I have two fears in writing a news report. First, I fear to commit mistakes even with the minutest detail. Second, I fear to leave out even minutest detail.
If I won’t get over these fears, I’ll go mad. If I can’t overcome these fears sooner, I’d rather not do my job.
Plus I have to get comfortable (ironically) with competition and getting “outscooped” sometimes.
Every coverage I do reminds me that I am no superwoman. Sadly, it also reminded me of my illnesses and how fragile I am (literally). Perhaps the drive to do things right (or even control things to make them what I think is right) makes me want to do more than I am capable of. Perhaps, in the recesses of my mind lurked the unconscious impulse that life is what I make of it (it would follow that if I would not do anything good about my life, nothing good would happen).
My loved ones would ask me why I work so hard or why I have to take a second employment (in the past). I don’t even have my own family yet. Why don’t I take things lightly, as they are, one day at a time? Why I am so serious?
Oftentimes, I would just shrug and say, “Work is work.” And my boyfriend would retort, “Yeah, but work is not your life.” Then he would scare me that by the time I grow 30 years old, I’ll have the wrinkles (and even the posture) of a 90-year-old grandmother.
I won’t deny that I like my job. It awes me each time I would finish knitting the details of a story at the end of the day (and be able to generate reactions through praises or accusations the following day). It awes me to be working with respectable veterans and talented journalists who share beautiful stories of being human. It awes me to be addressing with different kinds of people, most of them are learning to be wary with the questions from the media.
On the other side of the coin, I won’t deny either that I grow up seeing (and feeling) my father and mother working too hard to cope up with the difficulties of the times. I see them spending little time having fun for themselves that it would be me uncomfortable on my part to have so much fun for myself.
My sister and I grow up with almost similar kind of mentality. Each time we wanted to purchase an item, we would check the price first, think kindly of our parents, and save for the item. Sometimes, we would end up not buying the item or having to wait a few weeks to own it.
Well, I cannot speak for my sister. For me, though, I am not blaming my parents for not having so much fun as much as I want to. In fact, I am grateful to them because I actually learn to be patient, to be wary of buying things, to think of others more than myself, to save for the future, to be sensitive, and many more.
I guess we have to meet other persons to learn more, make us whole, and keep us sane. My friends do that, thank God!
At work, well, I still believe work is work. I just have to learn to be more kind to myself so that by the time I’ll be 30 years old, my news sources will still recognize me.
As a start, I have to overcome my two fears.