If I had the proper discipline, had locked away the inner critic, I shoulda, woulda, coulda reclaimed the languages lost.
Once upon a time, I fluently spoke five. Now, it’s any wonder my English makes sense have half of the time.
Spanish, German, French and Sign. Italian and Russian, once upon a time. Even dabbled a bit with Greek and Latin, too. Of Chinese (Mandarin), Japanese and Hebrew, the word count is few.
What holds me back, besides an absurd ‘attack?’ The repeated words, not einmal, not dos veces, but thrice – ‘the various skills of litereacy I lacked’ (silly inner critic,my main vice).
Should I find those recordings, those books, tutorials and give it a go? Of course, I know the answer – ja, sí, hi,oui , Я знаю,

What a wonderful skill! I never had that opportunity, but found I had just enough Latin to “read” some of the poems in different languages in The Story of Civilization. It was more of I understood the meaning, not each and every word. I’d pick at least one and return to it. Scattered attention won’t achieve a good result. Forget the inner critic.
I figured I’d return to Spanish and slowly work my way toward reading the Psalms once more.