Why We Put Off the Things We Love
To love something is possibly the scariest feeling in the world. Sure, we are brought up to discover our passions, some of us are even fortunate enough to experiment in different fields and slowly realize what it is we care about most, but to dedicate oneself to whatever it is makes our heart burn is more difficult than “happy ending” movies have taught us. Or at least that is how I’ve felt for a long time, but mostly recently.
To be 21 is, for most people I know, to not have a plan, or on the other hand, to have a plan so aspirational it seems nearly impossible. The overwhelming reality of what it is to pursue your passions is thankfully put off for three to four years, years we tell ourselves are spent learning and fine-tuning whatever skills are necessary, growing up, bypassing insecurities that follow us from high school… But when reality hits, when there is no longer an essay to write or a project to complete, where does that leave us? Are we prepared to wake up and chase the dream that’s been with us for what feels like forever?
As I write this, the third and final year of my undergraduate degree faces me like a Mexican standoff, not because I believe it will be particularly difficult, but because it means that the time for dreaming is nearing its end. Now that might seem like a bleak way to put it and it is not a statement that encompasses all I believe to be true about the closing of this chapter in my life, but it holds some truth, and that truth is what compelled me to start writing.
I don’t know what makes a good writer, let alone a great one, but then again, I don’t think anyone does. I especially don’t think great writers sit down to produce their first piece of work knowing it’ll be any good, but the worry, the fear, of it not being good enough… That is something I am sure has stopped fantastic writers-to-be. And that’s what this is all about: the fear, the worry.
Why do we put off the things we love? It’s not a revolutionary question, it has likely been asked and explored many times, by people who compared to yours truly are probably somewhat of a genius, but that doesn’t deduct from it being a good fucking question. It goes alongside questions such as ‘why are we scared of being happy?’ and ‘why do good people do bad things?’, things that seem so obvious to ask that we rarely trouble ourselves with actually answering them.
It is far easier to fail at something you don’t care about than something you’ve poured your heart into. You will hear that behind every great success there are a million failures, that Rome wasn’t built in a day, that the best of us are as graceful in the face of victory as they are in the face of defeat, but who does that actually comfort when you can see the thing you want most in the world, but just can’t seem to grasp it, not even for one second. Personally, I find them to be consoling, thoughts, prayers, but words of encouragement, no matter how well intended, can’t cure heartbreak and that is what stops us.
I guess, in the middle of what seems to be a very negative train of thought, there is one more question to ask. What hurts more? Is it more painful to give it your all and fail? To fall flat on your face after pouring hours, days, weeks, months, years, into something you love, or to never try at all. To spend those same hours, days, weeks, months, years, thinking you were better off not getting your hopes too high, rationalizing that if you tried, the chance it would’ve worked were close to none anyways, but never truly knowing.
Throughout human history we have fought to know. To know anything really, and we still know so very little. No matter where you go there will be people who think they know- hell, I think I know a bunch of stuff, and so do you, probably, but mostly people make educated guesses on everything from trivial to fundamental issues. So here I’m not going to pretend to know ‘why we put off the things we love’, I’ve said what was on my mind about this particular subject, but the truth is I have no idea, especially because your reason may be, and probably is, worlds different from mine. But while we are here, you can’t pretend to know either. What we can agree on, maybe, is that not knowing is terrifying and that life is just us taking one risk after another, some bigger, some smaller.
Why do I put off the things I love? Because picturing greatness is easier than accepting failure. Because there are over seven billion people in the world and shit isn’t working out for most of them, so why should it for me? Because dedicating yourself to something is hard and trying to make things work is even harder. But here I am writing this anyways and here you are reading it, so no matter whether you loved it or hated it or have no strong feelings towards it, this is me not putting off the things I love, even if just for one short moment.