Anti-Courage, my old friend

Have you ever considered the impact of fear in your life? And I don't mean actual flight-or-fight fear — we have that mechanism in place in our body for a reason. That fear is always worth attention and response. (And if you want a good book on the topic, I recommend The Gift of Fear, by Gavin DeGraw.)

The type of fear I'm talking about here is the psychological crazy-making kind that draws out your personal critic. I'll call her "Anti-Courage."

Last week a friend and I started working through the Cultivating Courage 21-day journaling course at Mindfulist. And in just one lesson, I realized how much of my day is spent in fear.

• Fear of penning the first word for a story.
• Fear of pressing send on an email with a magazine pitch.
• Fear of hitting "call" on the phone after dialing a number.
• Fear of getting on my mat to teach a yoga class. (Because who am I to take the seat of teacher?)

Most of my fear, I'm learning, arises around my work, in places I actually do have a fair amount of competency or skill. Where I've maybe even won fancy paper awards or accolades from peers. When it comes to doing things I have never tried, or know nothing about, I have little to no fear.

• Run a crazy obstacle race and jump over fire? Sure!
• Jump on a standup paddleboard and wobble myself around a lake. Okey doke.
• Paint, or collage, or wrangle together some sort of art project. No prob.

I think, for me, there is much less tied up in doing something I've never done — because if I look stupid I always have the first- (or second- or third-) timer excuse. Where my debilitating fear-critic, Anti-Courage, comes in to play is in those areas of my life where I'm supposed to already know what I'm doing. Where, many days, I feel like I'm really just fooling everyone. Where the pressure of perfection feels like a stranglehold.

As Brené Brown says:

When perfection is driving, shame is riding shotgun, and fear is that annoying back-seat driver.

Perfectionism kills success. I know that if I want to achieve more in my life, I have to give vulnerability the keys. And not just today, or tomorrow, but every single moment of every day. I have to write the first word, press send, hit call, step on my mat.

But vulnerability itself is scary. So am I really just exchanging one fear for another? I don't think so, because I agree with Brené when she also says:

Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity and change.

If I have a choice, I choose innovation and creativity and change over stasis. I choose Courage over Anti-Courage. But I don't think it will ever be easy. I will regularly need a tap on the shoulder, whether from rereading a passage of Brené's, or taking a course like Mindfulist's, or simply donning a bright red superheroine cape in my mind (over my worn-out jeans and tank top) and choosing the magic of flight over presumed fail.

It all comes back to choice. I have a choice to make each day. And so do you.

What do you choose?

No need to freak, right? (Right?!?)

This morning I've got a big interview for a story I've been assigned to write.

And I am freaking out.

I'm trying not to freak out. But I. Am. Freaking. Out.

My interviewee is a big deal. Not just out there in the world at large, but in my life. His work has influenced the way I think. His words are at times so intensely down-to-earth and relatable, and at other times, pure magic — at least in the sense that he seems to be speaking right to me.

And now, in a few hours, he will be.

Instead of him challenging me to think about things differently, I'll be asking him the deep questions.

That feels like a lot of pressure.

Of course, I've been in a similar place before.

I've freaked out (and geeked out) over interviewing, among others:

Amanda Palmer. Hunter Hayes. Norah Jones. Peter Sagal and Carl Kasell (who sadly would not record a message for my phone). Taylor Swift. Phil Liggett. Alton Brown.

And then, after getting on the phone and having my initial "Holy Heck I'm Talking To (Fill-In-The-Blank) Moment of Panic," I'd take a deep breath and remember that each one of these people was ... just another person. A successful person, yes. But still, just a person. With a body and a mind. A heart and a soul. A breakfast-lunch-and-dinner-eating human being.

Just like me.

Norah and I chatted about shopping at Target.

Alton and I talked about his love of flying airplanes.

Phil and I chuckled over the fact that he doesn't have a very good history when it comes to picking cycling tournament winners.

And Hunter and I laughed — and laughed and laughed about absolutely nothing at all of importance. (Super nice guy, he is.)

These tidbits might not be of the headline-grabbing sort. But to me, they're what I love most about interviewing, both "celebrities" and the woman next door — connecting with another individual, on a person-to-person level. Catching a glimpse of who's behind the persona. And then using a range of quotes and content to help tell a piece of that person's story, so that my reader has a chance to connect with them too.

Today, I have to remember that. Remember why I like doing what I do.

A little bit of freaking out is OK. It keeps me on my toes.

But then I just have to settle into my seat, open up my computer ... and dial his number.

(This is my Day 2 contribution to the Your Turn Challenge. Read others' contributions and learn more here.)

Show up & ship: the Your Turn Challenge

You know when a sign hits you over the head with a smack and wakes you right up?

That just happened to me.

I blogged every day last week. And I was super proud of that. And I planned to keep it going this week.

Until a case of the Mondays, and a slew of really amazing writing passed across my screen. Inspiring and clever writing like this piece by Mark Manson: The Most Important Question of Your Life.

And this, on the Myth of Perfection, by Susannah Conway.

And this, by Courtney Martin, on the Sacred Inefficiencies of a Very Human Life.

Cue the self-doubt. I got a major case of ...

The not-good-enoughs.

The I'll-never-write-like-thems.

The why-do-I-bother-anyways.

And then, like a whack on the side of the head (great book, by the way, which is why there's an affiliate link there, just so you know), or a tap of a magic wand, I found the Your Turn Challenge. A product of Winnie Kao, the Special Projects Lead for the incomparable Seth Godin.

So here I am. Writing a post.

Yeah, it's a post about posting. Which feels a little like cheating. But it's also about how sometimes we just have to shove the crappy thoughts about ourselves that take up residence in our mind aside and produce anyway.

Here's to, as Seth would say, shipping. Every. Single. Day.

Here's to, as my yoga teacher Jessica would say, showing up. Every. Single. Day.

Here's to, as I'm going to say, courage. Every. Single. Day.

(This is my Day 1 contribution to the Your Turn Challenge. Read others' contributions and learn more here.)

Beating myself up

[dropcap custom_class="normal"] T [/dropcap]his morning at my usual coffee shop a guy asked if he could share my table. It was a wide four-top, and while I tend to spread out, I certainly didn’t need all the space, so I said sure. I kept working on my laptop. Until the table began to shake lightly.

I glanced up. My tablemate had his cup of joe in one hand, his cell phone in the other. He was listening to music through some (really big) headphones – and tapping to the beats on the table.

I was annoyed.

I mumbled in my head.

I felt myself getting worked up.

I complained on Facebook about it. (I do love social media. Instant support!)

After about fifteen minutes, I packed up and left. (He was still there, apparently oblivious.)

And now, I’m kinda pissed at myself. It had been my table. My space he entered. (As much as a table at a coffee shop can be, at least.) And rather than say something to him, I retreated. What is it in some of us that keeps us from speaking up? That keeps us from standing our ground? Really, I should have been able to look up, catch his eye, and ask him (politely, of course) to (please) stop tapping the table. How hard would that have been?

But I couldn’t. I. Just. Couldn’t. I didn’t want to be seen as rude. Or bitchy. Or imposing on his activities. It was easier (at the time) to be all cranky about it, and ultimately, change not only my mood, but my plans.

I don’t want to be that person.

I want to be the person who has enough respect for herself that she can choose to be as important as those around her, and who can ask for what she needs in any situation.

I want to be the person who others respect, and who are willing to honor my needs, and consider my wants.

I want to be the person who can look conflict in the eye, no matter how big or how small, and come nose to nose with it.

I want to show up in my life. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. Every single moment.

Seems I have some work to do.

Bravery

It's been a long week. Yes, I realize it's only Wednesday. Still, it's been a long week.

That said, on Monday, I dropped by one of my favorite stores (EllyBlue) and found this chalkboard sign out front.

She who is brave is free.

When I think about the word "brave" — which interestingly, I almost picked as my Soul Mantra for 2014 — I conjure images of a Joan of Arc-type, sitting tall on a majestic horse, sword drawn, ready for whatever fight she may need to face. Of course, she also doing said action while wearing a gorgeous white flowing dress, with her hair perfectly coifed, and her lipstick a most excellent shade of rose.

(I have an active imagination sometimes.)

But being "brave" is so very rarely quite so exciting, or managed in such a quote-unquote perfect way. It more often takes the form of choosing to get out of bed in the morning in a daily fight against depression. Or in finally scheduling that doctor's appointment to figure out why a literal pain in your neck won't go away.

Or, in trying to figure out how to word a blog post just so — by releasing lifelong perfectionist habits, or I'm-not-good-enough thoughts, or anxiety about what people [shudder] will think.

All tendencies that can be self-destructive and binding.

Or in other words, not freeing.

She who is brave is free.

She who is brave is free. And it's baby steps of bravery, baby steps of "showing up" for your life each and every day, that get you to that free place. (My Soul Mantra this year actually is "show up." More on that in a future blog post.)

It's exhausting, but important, work.

And is why it's been a long week for me, just three days in. I've been tackling projects, testing my limits. Being brave. And I know my work is nowhere near done.

Which is also why I might just crawl under the bedcovers for awhile. Breathe in some good alone-time freedom. And start fresh tomorrow.