2 Decades of Feeling Inadequate

Over the past week I have been wanting to write about the trials of raising 4 well-mannered latter-day saints boys in the world today, but every time I sat down to start writing I was overwhelmed with feelings of being inadequate. Today, as I was pondering my quest I started thinking back to when these feelings started...
I was about ten years old with an English assignment to write a short story about something that interested me. I cannot remember what I chose to write about (it was likely going to be about my favorite Cabbage Patch doll, Emily, and her "twin" brother, Sam). I cannot remember how I started the story or what adventures they may have come across in it, but I do remember feeling so proud of what I came up with, I decided right then that I didn't want to become a doctor or surgeon, I wanted to write stories forever. Now, after 20 years all I remember about this story is the reaction that my mother had when she was helping me edit my puncuation and spelling. She told me that it was boring! Yes, boring, coming from a mother trying to help her youngest child correct simple mistakes on a writing assignment. She told me that I needed to write about something that would interest OTHER people. I don't really even remember what happened next, I can't remember changing the short story but I remember not writing anymore.
Come to think about it, a few years after this crushing incident, I took an art class. Now, those of you who don't know my mother, which is probably most of you, she is an amazing artist. She can draw anything she sets her mind to. I remember begging her to sketch pictures of me and my older sister all the time. One day I brought home my art book and she started looking through it. She critiqued one rendering after another, one in particular was a still picture of a fruit bowl. I knew it wasn't perfect and I wasn't particularly astounded by my artistic genius, but I can still hear her voice telling me I needed to draw what "other people see" when they looked at a fruit bowl.
Now, I'm not super smart, but to use Mr. Glenn Beck's words, I am a thinker. How do you draw what other people see? How do you coherantly write things that would interest other people? Shortly after her so called advice for my art class I quit drawing freehand completely. I started to imitate cartoon characters, drawing Garfield and Odie and the Seven Dwarfs. From these two incidences in my early childhood I lost my ability to use my imagination.
It's weird how many, many years later some little thing like that can change your ambitions and dreams. As I've gotten older, Jeremy has read some of the little poems that I've written or seen some little doodle from me and told me that it was good, or maybe even great. But it's much, much easier to believe the bad things. It's easier for me to not write or draw anything at all rather than to draw something that might not be up to someone else's standards.
But all this boils down to one thing, Eric is going to be bringing home more and more homework. Do I want to encourage him to use his imagination or do I want him to become a follower, a clone? I want to see his beautiful imagination blossom into a world of possibilities. He brought home an assignment one day about a month ago to draw things that start with the letter "G". He was asking me for ideas, and I started popping out words that begin with "G". I suggested a giraffe, a goat, a girl. He was overwhelmed by having to draw a giraffe at first, but we talked about what a giraffe has, a round body - long, long legs - a long neck - horns, etc. He slowly came up with a not-so-perfect perfect picture of a yellow and orange giraffe. It is my favorite drawing that he has drawn yet. From HIS perspective. That is something that I hope will always continue in him. Many times I have stumbled across him pretending his markers and crayons are fighting instead of quietly coloring a picture.
So, today, I blog about my crushed hopes and dreams of almost 20 years ago and hope that if it's too boring for any of you, you'll forgive me.