It's either getting better or getting worse

My waning confidence in my writing skills has been a continuing point of discussion with Mrs. Dr. the Wife. Partly because of my previously held beliefs that I'd have written a book or something by now and partly because she gets really angry whenever I denigrate my abilities.

I was thinking about it again recently, because I'd like to win the next argument, and I figured that if I could clearly state my problems to myself, I might have a better chance against the logic-machine that is my spouse.

It occurred to me that a big part of my problem is the ease with which I used to write compared to the torture I endure now when I have to tackle even the simplest of assignments. Why was I so confident back then? Because it was easy. Why am I so hamstrung right now? Because it's so hard.

But I'm beginning to wonder if it was easy then because I wasn't very good. At the very least, I wasn't burdened with an over-abundance of self-awareness, which is why I look back on opinions I used to hold and cringe out loud. Seriously. Neighbors complain that my cringing keeps them up at night.

It's not that I'm so thoughtful or thorough now, it's just that I know better than I knew back then.

None of which helps me with my current assignment or the myriad other problems I seem determined to heap upon myself. Garp. It's gotten so even my fingers hurt in anticipation of writing something awful. Like this crap here.