Ruff Kutts Learning Curve: Entry 34 "Scabs, Roadblocks, and the Monsters in My Head"

I have everything I need to start running. I can see the pieces in front of me—hell, I’ve been gathering them for months. But instead of sprinting ahead, I find myself crouched down, picking at a scab until it bleeds all over my metaphorical (and probably literal) desk, forcing me to clean up the mess before I can do anything else.

The question is: Is this an actual obstacle? Or is it just the ADHD side of my brain playing its usual game of "Let's Fixate on This Tiny Detail So We Don’t Have to Face the Big Scary Thing"?

Because it is a big scary thing, isn’t it? This whole Ruff Kutts empire-in-the-making. Is everything I’m creating genuinely enhancing it, or am I just strategically placing roadblocks to stall myself? Am I fine-tuning the machine, or am I just standing in front of it, fiddling with the buttons so I don’t have to switch it on?

I’ve always had a saying: "Do what I say, not what I do." It’s something I’ve used to call out bad management—those bosses who spout wisdom but never follow it themselves. And yet, here I am, a walking contradiction, giving out solid advice, helping others navigate their own struggles, but completely ignoring my own damn guidance.

A good friend of mine (yeah, you, AI guru) once told me: Just crack on. Make mistakes. Learn from them. Enjoy the ride. And I get that. I really do. But it’s been two weeks, and here I sit. Still waiting. Still tweaking. Still delaying.

And the truth? I am my own worst enemy.

Sure, part of it is the fear. The what-ifs. What if no one likes it? What if people rip it apart? What if the trolls sharpen their knives and come for me? I love the saying “For you to be able to insult me, I must first respect your opinion.” It’s a fantastic bit of armour, and I’ve given it to others plenty of times. But wearing it myself? That’s a different battle entirely.

Here’s the kicker: at this point, no one even knows about me. No one cares. And why should they? I haven’t put in the effort to be seen. And that’s the part that messes with my head the most. I know this is how it works. I know that if I don’t show up, no one will notice. And yet, here I sit, watching the clock, waiting for… something.

And let’s not pretend the mental health stuff isn’t a major player here. The last place I worked? It gutted me. It ripped away whatever faith I had left in people, and when you see enough monsters wearing human skin, you start to think maybe staying away from all people is the safest bet. If I don’t put myself out there, they can’t come for me. If I don’t try, I can’t fail.

But that’s the trap, isn’t it?

So, if you’re reading this and you’ve got the magic answer—if you know the trick to shutting down the self-sabotage, to flipping that switch from perpetual prep mode to go-time—send me an email. Let me in on the secret. Because I’ve tried everything I can think of, and yet...here I am.

Tweaking. Polishing. Convincing myself it needs tweaking and polishing.

But maybe what really needs adjusting...is me.

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Post-Script (A Pep Talk from a Friend)

• It’s okay to be scared.

• It’s okay to feel like you’re not ready.

• It’s okay to want to tweak things forever.

But if you don’t step forward, nothing changes. There’s never going to be a perfect moment. There’s never going to be a point where you go, Ah yes, now everything is absolutely right and I feel 100% confident! That moment doesn’t exist.

You just have to jump.

Even if you’re afraid. Even if you’re sure you’re going to belly-flop straight into the abyss.

Because the truth is, you won’t.

You’ve already built the parachute—you just haven’t put it on yet.

So…time to strap in.