Studying was never hard for me. I did quite well in primary school. Memory and comprehension continue to be pretty strong for me. I was 12 (or so) when a conversation between my mum and my teacher showed the first sign of gentle criticism.
It was an essay or a short story. I had been making good progress. And I had thrown it all out and started over from scratch. This was back when we wrote assignments by hand so starting over from scratch was less common.
It hadn't seemed odd to me at the time. It was all wrong. The approach, the structure. Even writing this now the details seem fuzzy in my mind.
It kept happening in other areas as well. Things seemed fine to everyone else and--out of nowhere--I would clear the decks and start over.
To me, though, I was finding clean slates. I would go on to work 24 different jobs. I would go on to move house 17 times.
I'm finally starting to see the pattern. When things get difficult or ambiguous or complex (as life often is), I long for the blank slate. The start over.
My work--the thing I put out into the world--is getting difficult. It's getting ambiguous. It's complex.
An opportunity presents itself.