There's no perfect title for this blog post (and other lessons...)
I'm a recovering perfectionist. I'm also a big believer in the theory of neuroplasticity (hence my conviction that it's both desirable and possible to recover from something like perfectionism). Thus far, that's all it's been: a belief. Something that would be nice in theory. Rewire my brain simply by choosing a different response or behavior? Sure! Why not?
But that all changed recently. It's no longer theoretical; I've become a living example of it. To illustrate, I'll take a seemingly simple thought and show you how 10-weeks-ago-Kat would have responded, versus present-day Kat.
Seemingly simple thought: "I should write a blog post!"
Here's what 10-weeks-ago-Kat would've had to say:
"Is now really the right time to write a blog post? I mean, you have a lot of other things to do: cleaning out that junk drawer in the basement, reading random shit on the internet for a minimum of seven hours and meticulously cleaning the inside of the microwave, just for starters. And supposing you do somehow find the time (though I honestly don't know how you'd manage that), don't forget that the post must. be. perfect. Of course you'll need to think up a witty, fantastic, perfect title that ensures your post will go viral in minutes--that goes without saying--but don't forget to also angst over whether to use ellipsis or an em dash in that last sentence. And proofreading. Don't even get me started on the number of hours you'll need to spend on that, because one wrong move means the end of everything. Ever."
And present-day Kat?
"Yup. Go do it. Right now. I bet you can have it done and posted in the next hour. Don't be precious about it."
So what made the difference? One word: doing.
I embarked on a 10-week journey that forced me to take action. And not the slow, painstaking, anxiety-ridden action that I was used to. We're talking, "shut up, get out your laptop and write this in 30 minutes because you don't have time to angst over it" kind of action.
And I have some cool by-products to show for all this action. The first is tangible: the inaugural issue of a monthly newsletter called Ephemera. (You can check out that issue here and subscribe here.)
The others are less concrete in the physical sense, but no less important. Here are three lessons I've learned from my 10 weeks of doing:
1) There's no perfect title for this blog post.
There's a title, sure. I mean, I've got to title it. But the idea that there's a perfect title lurking somewhere out there, and that I must find and capture this elusive perfect title before I press that publish button? That's pure fiction. And in fact, it's more dangerous than fiction. Because it serves to keep us (and here I'm thinking mainly of us ladies, for whom perfectionism is particularly prevalent) in a safe but very, very tiny box, from which we can't share our voice with the world.
2) Accountability makes the dream work.
A couple things happened over the last 10 weeks that could have easily derailed this project. The first was the death of a family member, and the second was a global pandemic. Let me be clear. I'm not espousing a, "who gives a shit if people are dying KEEP WORKING" worldview. Far from it. In both instances I needed (still need) time, space and compassion to feel not OK. But in the past, I would have jumped at these as perfectly valid reasons to put a creative project on hold. The difference this time was accountability. I had a group of fantastic women behind me and holding me accountable to submit work and meet deadlines. This accountability allowed me the space I needed, but also forced me to keep going. And if I can keep going during a global pandemic, I'm pretty sure none of my future excuses are going to hold much water...
3) It won't be a dumpster fire...and it probably won't go viral.
That voice in my head (the same one who 10 weeks ago would have persuaded me to go clean the microwave) is truly fantastic at convincing me that the my worst fears (torches, pitchforks, the online mob) will be realized if I am reckless enough to put my creative voice into the world. My worst fears indeed didn't come to pass, but this came with another, less exciting realization: neither did my greatest hopes. And that's OK. I can take action, and I can hustle, and I can put my best work out into the world, but I can't control the results. That part is up to the universe, and somehow, that's incredibly freeing.
So your brain convinced you to read this blog post (for which I'm grateful--many thanks to your brain, and don't forget to check out the newsletter, too), but now time for some cerebral rewiring: Go. Do.
But that all changed recently. It's no longer theoretical; I've become a living example of it. To illustrate, I'll take a seemingly simple thought and show you how 10-weeks-ago-Kat would have responded, versus present-day Kat.
Seemingly simple thought: "I should write a blog post!"
Here's what 10-weeks-ago-Kat would've had to say:
"Is now really the right time to write a blog post? I mean, you have a lot of other things to do: cleaning out that junk drawer in the basement, reading random shit on the internet for a minimum of seven hours and meticulously cleaning the inside of the microwave, just for starters. And supposing you do somehow find the time (though I honestly don't know how you'd manage that), don't forget that the post must. be. perfect. Of course you'll need to think up a witty, fantastic, perfect title that ensures your post will go viral in minutes--that goes without saying--but don't forget to also angst over whether to use ellipsis or an em dash in that last sentence. And proofreading. Don't even get me started on the number of hours you'll need to spend on that, because one wrong move means the end of everything. Ever."
And present-day Kat?
"Yup. Go do it. Right now. I bet you can have it done and posted in the next hour. Don't be precious about it."
So what made the difference? One word: doing.
I embarked on a 10-week journey that forced me to take action. And not the slow, painstaking, anxiety-ridden action that I was used to. We're talking, "shut up, get out your laptop and write this in 30 minutes because you don't have time to angst over it" kind of action.
And I have some cool by-products to show for all this action. The first is tangible: the inaugural issue of a monthly newsletter called Ephemera. (You can check out that issue here and subscribe here.)
The others are less concrete in the physical sense, but no less important. Here are three lessons I've learned from my 10 weeks of doing:
1) There's no perfect title for this blog post.
There's a title, sure. I mean, I've got to title it. But the idea that there's a perfect title lurking somewhere out there, and that I must find and capture this elusive perfect title before I press that publish button? That's pure fiction. And in fact, it's more dangerous than fiction. Because it serves to keep us (and here I'm thinking mainly of us ladies, for whom perfectionism is particularly prevalent) in a safe but very, very tiny box, from which we can't share our voice with the world.
2) Accountability makes the dream work.
A couple things happened over the last 10 weeks that could have easily derailed this project. The first was the death of a family member, and the second was a global pandemic. Let me be clear. I'm not espousing a, "who gives a shit if people are dying KEEP WORKING" worldview. Far from it. In both instances I needed (still need) time, space and compassion to feel not OK. But in the past, I would have jumped at these as perfectly valid reasons to put a creative project on hold. The difference this time was accountability. I had a group of fantastic women behind me and holding me accountable to submit work and meet deadlines. This accountability allowed me the space I needed, but also forced me to keep going. And if I can keep going during a global pandemic, I'm pretty sure none of my future excuses are going to hold much water...
3) It won't be a dumpster fire...and it probably won't go viral.
That voice in my head (the same one who 10 weeks ago would have persuaded me to go clean the microwave) is truly fantastic at convincing me that the my worst fears (torches, pitchforks, the online mob) will be realized if I am reckless enough to put my creative voice into the world. My worst fears indeed didn't come to pass, but this came with another, less exciting realization: neither did my greatest hopes. And that's OK. I can take action, and I can hustle, and I can put my best work out into the world, but I can't control the results. That part is up to the universe, and somehow, that's incredibly freeing.
So your brain convinced you to read this blog post (for which I'm grateful--many thanks to your brain, and don't forget to check out the newsletter, too), but now time for some cerebral rewiring: Go. Do.
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