I am terrified of disappointing people. FACT.
I have learnt this very recently, and I don’t like it. I might even go so far as to say, this subconscious fear has led me to, during my lifetime, not stray too far from the path of what’s comfortable and achievable so as not to fall short of the high expectations of others.
When I got home from Marciac, I had a week of reflection (and unexplained sadness), in which I realised what it was exactly, that had upset me so much.
A friend and I had been chatting enthusiastically, since the early part of the year, after little or no contact for the best part of four years. So when it came time to meet face to face, I was filled with the fear that I wouldn’t live up to the job. I even said to him, “Imagine if when we meet, it’s not at all how we imagined or envisaged.” Meaning, in actual fact, “what if I am not what you imagined.” So when there was a suggestion that this was, in fact the case, I was crestfallen.
The notion still wasn’t completely clear until my conversation with the Captain last week, while we were making plans to meet up in Cambridge after seven years. Once we’d made tentative plans to go for dinner, he said he was excited about seeing me after so long. My stomach lurched, my heart sank, and my response? “Don’t get too excited, you might be disappointed.”
Maybe this chronic fear of causing disappointment explains why I treat art and music as a hobby (much to the chagrin of my mother, who has actively encouraged both). I am, as I see it (and have always seen it), an average artist. And best, (when it comes to music) at organising and being behind the scenes.
And maybe this newly discovered aspect of myself, also explains why I enjoy writing here as much as I do, as Anne Pank; if it’s not up to the mark, I can swiftly sidestep all responsibility and steer clear of the uncomfortable emotions connected to letting the people I care about, down.