Growing up, everyone had their “thing.” They were the athlete, the singer, the brainiac, the artist. It seemed like everyone else was gifted and I was just lost in the middle of average. I got straight A’s in school because I would turn my science fair board into a DIY Jeopardy game and play against myself for 3 days straight. I had never won a race or a spelling bee. I made the HS Volleyball team because I am pretty sure they never made cuts.
I never wanted to be the best at anything. I just wanted to know that I could be.
Public speaking courses are mandatory for college graduation so I chose to take a theater class. My parents had told me since I was 3 that I was a natural born actress because I have a flare for the dramatics. I enrolled and for the first time in my life, pretending to be someone else was the only time I didn’t feel like an imposter. I was finally instinctually good at something. I had found “my thing” and I was ready to pursue it.
“I want to be an actress.” When I told people about my new, life-changing decision, I was met with long pauses and weird glances that they apparently thought I couldn’t see. I got side-eyes and eye-rolls, ‘okayed’ to death. They didn’t believe me and why would they? I had been on course for law school when I took a left turn after taking two courses in theater. They never seen any of my work to show them it was possible.
I started to feel like I was crazy and my own self-doubt started to catch fire. I wanted to protect myself, when I found a quote on Instagram that said, “Work hard in silence, let your success be your noise.”
I had taken this advice so literally that from then on I had taken a vow of silence. I would tell no one a thing. I would give weird indirect answers to questions. I would sit in my room and write scripts and stories, pacing back and forth, practicing monologues alone, watching movies with a notebook in hand, studying screenplays.I would go to acting classes and writing workshops and never tell anyone where I going. I needed to prove I could with my success.
And this was the worst thing that ever happened to me.
I had wrongly accepted societies definition of success. Success was money and accolades, I did not have either. So I had to keep my head down and work in silence. I was succeeding in that, but you know what I wasn’t doing? Growing. I had no one to work with. No one to reach out to say, “hey, I wrote this, can you read it and give me some feedback?” No one to tell me, “this would be better if…” I was just writing stories and letting them die on note pad shoved in the back of a drawer.
I had mentally beat myself down. I became a person in hiding; afraid and ashamed.
I had no one & you can build nothing alone. You can not improve without critique. You can not move forward without help. I could trap myself in a room for the next 30 years of my life and write and in 30 years I will still be in that room alone.
Silence is the anti-thesis to success. It guarantees failure. I had to redefine what success meant and destroy the mindset that had destroyed me.
Success is opening myself up to learn from criticism.
Success is improvement.
Success is moving forward when I want to quit.
Success is accepting doubt and fear into my life and being brave enough to do it anyway.
Success is holding myself accountable.
Success is showing up.
Success is living a life that’s more than just waiting for time to pass.
Success is being authentic and content with who I am and what I have.
I also had to define what failure looked like to me. I had never given a face to this creeping feeling that was haunting over me. Failure was putting myself out there, trying my hardest and not getting anywhere. Then dealing with the shame of everyone laughing at me. Failure was getting those eye rolls and long pauses and getting ‘okay-ed” to death again.
Okay, so what if that happened? Would I die? Would I be homeless? Would my family and friends abandon me? The biggest fear that had paralyzed and stagnated me was being laughed at. My worst case scenario was something I had already survived.
Wouldn’t you agree that not trying because you’re afraid of being laughed at is a bigger failure than consistently showing up, trying your best and committing yourself to growth?
Failure was just fear in disguise.
Now my biggest fear is letting my whole life pass me by because I was too afraid to be laughed at. Now failure means something else.
Failure is not showing up.
Failure is not trying.
Failure is refusing to ask for help.
Failure is refusing to accept and learn from constructive criticism.
Failure is living your life needing other people’s permission and approval.
I was live and die for this meaningless quote I found on Instagram. I had no connections, no idea how to begin or what I was going to do. I just knew I was good at something and I didn’t want people to tell me I was wrong for trying. But by hiding myself away, I had created a guaranteed method to failure.
We live in the digital era where you can connect with people around the world who share the same dreams and talents as you. Whether you meet people in your neighborhood or DM someone in Japan; there is someone in the world who is where you want to be and they are willing to help you get there.
People say it all the time,“find your tribe,”–but how? Your childhood friends may not have the same interests as you. No matter how kind and supportive they may be, it’s important to have people you can relate to.
I used to pray for a community all the time. I used to visualize and “send messages to the universe”: I want a community of people who make me feel less alone. The universe can’t do the work for me. Just because I was not utilizing the resources doesn’t mean the help wasn’t there.
There are Facebook groups, Meet Ups, Instagram communities. There are thousands of niche pod casts and blogs who have built a community of people interested in your interests. There are people in your neighborhood with the exact same goals. Reach out and ask to meet up at a local coffee shop. Build relationships with each other, share your dreams.
Start. You may not be great today, but you’ll be better tomorrow.
Take the first steps:
- Say it outloud. To one person or everyone. Say it your therapist, to your siblings, to your parents, to your best friend, make a post on Facebook, I don’t care who you say it to. Just say it.
- Reach out. Put yourself out there and connect with people who are already doing it. Maybe they won’t answer or maybe they will. What’s there to lose?
- Take a class. Do the work, try your hardest, dedicate the time and effort, don’t flake out. Don’t short yourself by not living your greatest potential right now.
- Write out your weekly goals every single week.
- Find someone to hold you accountable. My best friend, Rebecca, and I write down all of our weekly goals on a shared note. We re-evaluate every Sunday. We give each other feed back, support and remind each other of our goals. We touch base to see how things are going or how we can help. Cheer each other on.
- Write out your version of failure. What’s the worst possible thing that could happen?
- Write down every single time you were too scared to do something, you thought you would die from the anxiety, and you did it anyway. Remind yourself every time you think you can’t, remember that you already did.
I’ll go first.
Step 1: Say it out loud.
My name is Christie. I like to write, act, tell stories with words, photos, and videos. I love to learn about people. I want to tell stories for the rest of my life.
Your turn.
(Remember: you are capable and you’re going to be okay.)
Sincerely yours,
CK
