Tag Archives: VOTY

A Rising Tide

rising tide

I had an ugly mental moment this morning.  I’ve been cultivating a sense of abundance this week.  Trying to focus on all that I have.  Chanting, “I am enough, I am enough.”  Rowing my little boat and keeping it low in the water, right in the middle of the channel.

This Voice of the Year thing on Friday is a big deal for me.  I’m claiming that.  Some days, I numb myself from the excitement so that I don’t confess that I am thrilled to have wanted something and gone out and gotten it. I’ve been trying to stay in a positive, happy place with it instead of moving straight into “I hope I don’t screw this up” territory.

This is not a left-handed plea for y’all to say, “You’re going to be fine!”  I’m just telling you where my head went because I learned something from it.  I learned that it’s really hard for me to accept attention for doing something well.  I crave that kind of attention.  I seek it out.  But when it comes, I am afraid that the rug will be pulled out from under me.  I am afraid that someone else will come along and take what I wanted so much just because I admitted that I wanted it.  I am afraid that the “You’re OK!” store will be empty by the time I get there.

I am afraid.

That’s the gist of it.  At the heart of perfectionism is fear.  At the heart of my anxiety is fear.  At the heart of my depression is fear.  It’s always fear that I won’t be enough.

I am enough.

And here’s where the ugly mental thing came in.  I saw that another blogger, who’s very creative and clever and funny, will be doing an event the same time I will.  My immediate reaction, instead of, “Oh, wonderful!  I can’t wait to spend some time with her!” was “Seek and destroy.  If you get near her, you will be less.”  Suddenly, I wanted her to fail so that she wouldn’t take any of my success.

What the hell????  I’ve never even met her.

Luckily, I’ve been reading Brene Brown’s book, “The Gift of Imperfection.”  I recognized a shame reaction as I was having it.  And even luckier, I had a therapy appointment already scheduled for today!

I made myself sit with the fear.  I checked my evidence and it proved that I have a right to be there, regardless of who else is around me.  I talked it through and realized that this once-in-a-lifetime event is also a big package of every inadequacy trigger I have, all rolled up into one.  People will see that I am old and overweight.  I might cry.  I might get short of breath and look like I’m panicking.  I might not be that good.  I might be good, but not the best.  I might ask for too much.  Maybe it’s arrogant of me to walk out on stage.

I’m reading a story about Richard and it might not be good enough to honor his memory.

These are my triggers.  Maybe they will make me sing and I’ll just black out altogether.

Part of going to therapy is letting these feelings come up.  Sitting with them.  Saying hello, then moving ON.  Even when they are scurrying to catch up to me.

I did my work with my therapist and I came back to the knowledge that there is enough of enough for everyone.  I don’t have to scrap with other writers for a limited number of readers.  I can be good.  She can be good.  You can be good.  We can all be wonderful together.

The creative life is not a competition; it’s a tide.  A rising tide lifts all boats.  When I occupy a space of abundance in my own heart, I can share it with others.  When I’m stuck in fear, I have nothing to give.  I am going to loosen my grasp, let the tide take me.  A rising tide, lifting all boats.

I’m not even going to reread this because I might chicken out on publishing it.  Just remember this:  fear doesn’t have to stop you.  It won’t stop me.

I’d Like to Thank the Blogcademy…

new-years-eve-228714_640Y’all.

You guys.

Omigodomigodomigahd!

Y’all. Seriously. Y’all.

My little light?  It’s getting a big chance to SHINE!

 

 

 

Every year at the BlogHer conference, there’s an evening party called “Voices of the Year.”  Last year, Queen Latifah was the host!  It was one of the highlights of my first blogging conference–a joyful celebration of writing, because good blogging always comes down to good storytelling.  Last year’s VOTY stories ran the gamut from discovering one’s gayness at Jesus Camp, poisoning yourself in the effort to craft a perfect pine cone wreath, fighting to save a suicidal child when the medical establishment isn’t listening, chasing pin worms with a flashlight, being mistaken for your child’s nanny, living on the thin edge of poverty, and explaining race to your mixed race son.  I laughed.  I cried.  I was inspired.

Any blogger can submit a piece to Voices of the Year.  This year, over 2000 stories were submitted.  The selection process went through round after round after round.  From that pool, one hundred blog posts are selected.  Then from those 100, a dozen lucky bloggers get to go onstage in front of the whole conference and read a story.  

BH14_VOTY_Selected_150X15Y’all…I got selected as a Voice of the Year.

Squeeee!!!

And I got selected to read.

Hot Damn!!!

Or to quote Carlos’ favorite new phrase:  Seriously, dude.

I am thrilled.  Delighted.  Honored.  Scared-Shitless-But-Gonna-Do-It-Anyway.

And I’m proud.  Proud of myself.  Not for getting chosen by a panel of reviewers–I didn’t have any control over that–but for choosing myself. Back in February, when the submissions were opened, I chose myself.  It took me a couple of tries to get up the nerve.  I made a few visits to the website before I had the guts to hit Submit.  I overcame my doubts and said, “This is something I want to shoot for.  This is something I have the right to try.  This is something that would be really really really fun to do.”  I gave myself permission to want it.  I gave myself a voice.  It was heard!

I am tickled pink.

So today’s message is:  Put yourself out there. 

Oh, and here’s the funny part.  I’m at a bit of a loss.  If you go to the announcement page for 2014 Voices of the Year, there are links to these wonderfully entertaining posts.  But the ones that get read on stage?  They don’t have links–they’re a secret.  Y’know, gotta keep the suspense up.  So the link beside my name is just to Baddest Mother Ever, not the specific post that got selected.  

Wellllll…unfortunately, I can’t remember which story I submitted!  Duh.  So after a couple of days of playing it cool, I will have to email someone at BlogHer and say, “Thank you SO MUCH for giving me this opportunity to read….now, can you refresh my memory on what exactly I wrote?”  

So today’s message addendum:  Put yourself out there, but jot down where you put yourself.