Saturday, February 15, 2014
My dad took the above photo of me while trying to explain something about how to use our camera. Maybe you can tell from my expression that I was resistant to being educated. That horrible shaky feeling was pressing on my ribs.
I hate learning new skills. I like having new skills, but I hate learning them. When I turned 17, I had never been behind the wheel of a car. I didn't want to tackle driving; my mom had to force me to get my permit. The lever she used was exasperation. "Sonya, you want the freedom of being an adult but none of the responsibilities." True. Eventually that reasoning was effective, because I felt guilty.
Like most people, I don't want to do things that are hard. For me, a big part of it is that I dichotomize my experiences into two categories: success or failure. I tend to think that if I'm not the best, then I'm nothing. So the beginning phase of discovering a new process or technique, when you have to deal with not being an expert instantly, makes me feel like crying.
The sewing machine. Emotional ambiguity. Configuring a website. Anything that I can't quickly encompass intellectually. All of these things make me anxious.
Speaking of new skills, I have yet to figure out how to use blush without looking sunburnt.