What to Do When Positive Changes Freak You Out

There are positive changes for my family in sight on the horizon. A new opportunity, different housing, and (hopefully) an expanded sense of freedom in our day to day lives.

In a word, these changes are good.

But one night, as I was putting the baby down in his crib, it hit me all at once that with these good changes would come other shiftings, ones that weren't as much fun but were necessary.

OMG, I thought in a sudden panic, clutching the baby close in the night-dark room, we're going to have to change our health insurance.

I proceeded to then freak out (like, quietly, because near-sleeping baby).

But about a minute after that, after putting the baby down and slipping out of his bedroom, I started to giggle at myself.

Because a) a great new job opportunity certainly warranted enduring an change of insurance, and b) changing from one decent coverage plan to another is not exactly the end of the world. More annoying than anything else.

But my brain and/or that primitive, survival-oriented part of my being would have me believe that this shift was cataclysmic, that everything should stay exactly it is in order to avoid the change of insurance . . . even if current conditions are less ideal than the future conditions that come packaged with said change of insurance.

So, what to do when you're in the midst of a positive change in your life, like starting a great new job, or opening an art shop online, or trying to get pregnant, or joining a gym . . . and out of no where you find yourself freaking the hell out?

Consider trying the following:

Breathe . . . and don't do anything else. Don't rush to turn down that job offer, or cancel your gym membership. Just hold as steady as you can, and breathe deep. Like, a lot.

Consider what it is that you're actually worried about . . . or not worried about. Get out your journal and free-write, or go for a walk and ponder. Is it your animal brain worried about risks, even ones that seem like pretty sure things? Are you afraid of the success that may come from your positive life change?

Accept the uncomfortable. Change, even good, expected, celebrated change, can still be scary. Understand that it's not the wrong move if some discomfort is involved. In fact, that may actually be a sign that you're on the right track.

Be amused. As a friend of mine would say . . . be amused at the inner workings of your mind. Some of its mechanisms are great, and others are a little more rusty or complicated. If you know that this change is right for you at this time, breathe through it, attempt to understand it, accept its discomfort . . . and smile. It's going to be okay.

Have you ever had this happen -- where you're flying high on some fabulous new changes, only to be knocked sideways by unexpected anxiety or general "what the hell am I doing?" freakouts? How did you navigate it, either successfully or not? I invite you to share what you're thinking in the comments below. I'd love to know!

What Happened to Me After I Started Writing

“The beginning is always today.” ― Mary Shelley

I’ve loved the written word for nearly as long as I can remember. From “reading” (a.k.a. reciting from memory) The Little Red Hen to my mother as a three-ish year old to submitting a 30+ page mini-novel in response to my eleventh grade English teacher’s short story assignment to earning a degree in creative writing — I love words. Reading them, writing them, or gluing them into my art journal, I am a word junkie.

So it may surprise you to hear that I’ve only been practicing a regular writing habit for the last eight years.

You see, from childhood, I operated under the misconception that writing only mattered if it was going to be seen by someone else. So any time I had any kind of a creative writing assignment in elementary school, high school, and beyond, I went all in on it.

But on my own time? I did a whole lot of nothing.

Well, that’s not true. I read. I glowered at new authors’ books as they blossomed on our local book shop’s shelves, full of resentment (I mean, really — who did they think they were publishing a book? the nerve!). I perused Writer’s Market and calls for submission, only to turn away in panic, because scary deadlines. I pined away for a publication contract of my own, but did little in the way of actually pursuing one. I listened to writing podcasts, but never implemented the advice I heard. I participated in (and won!) National Novel Writing Month, but never did anything with my rough drafts — even the ones that weren’t half bad.

So I did spend a whole lot of time and energy thinking about writing, and being jealous of others who were writing and publishing. But I also let fear shackle me.

Until 2007, when I started a blog.

It wasn’t my first blog (Livejournal of 2004, I’m looking at you), but it was my first serious attempt at one. And by “serious attempt,” I mean a space in which I wrote regularly, regardless of how many people were (or, more accurately, weren’t) reading it.

In short, I blogged for me.

And I kept doing it. For years. Eight years and counting at this point. My focus evolved over time (like, a lot — I started out as a food blogger), but still — I wrote and hit “publish” regularly.

At first, it felt weird. Even with a lifelong adoration of the written word and a degree (with honors!) in creative writing from a prestigious liberal arts college . . . it felt awkward. Clumsy. Like writing into a void (which, let’s be honest, is what a lot of internet writing is).

But I kept on. And, eventually, I noticed that things were different. I was different.

What Happened After I Started (and Kept) Writing

It took three or so years, but one day, I realized that I was stronger than I was before I started my little blog.

I was a better writer than I had been. My technique was better. The resulting posts were better.

I created connections. I made friends with other bloggers, participated in hops and challenges, and both wrote guest posts and published others’ words on my blog. In a word, I was supported.

I was much more confident. The blank page no longer seemed quite as intimidating. In fact, I was so much more confident that I self-published my first book. And that confidence bled into all areas of my life, not just my work as a writer.

I took myself more seriously. No longer did I long to be a writer — I was a writer. I was writing, regularly, and sharing my work with the world. Maybe I wasn’t the next Anne Lamott (yet…!) (#bigdreams), but I was doing the work.

And, eventually, all of this combined to give me the, ahem, balls and belief in my own work to self-publish not only a fun little romance, but also a born-of-my-bloody-heart poetry collection — a.k.a. to take my writer-self from hobbyist to professional.

All because I started writing — for myself.

How to Get From Here to There

I think so many of us who long with the fire of a thousand suns to Be A Professional Writer balk at taking the actual steps toward making that dream happen because the road seems so long.

And it is. I’m not going to lie to you — it’s a long road. Countless hours of dedicated work that most people will never know, pouring your soul into words that maybe no one will ever read.

But

long as it may be, that road is the way from here to your writer dreams turned reality.

And really, it’s worth it. Now, looking back at 8 years of being a writer who writes (on top of a degree, honors, and all that came before), I can see how worth it is. I mean — people have read and are reading my books. Maybe not thousands of people. Maybe not even hundreds of people. But people are reading my books, and my words have changed small pieces of the world, and my heart is filled with delicious fire that I’m doing this work.

That’s the dream, right? Regardless of audience size, that is the dream.

And your journey from here to living right into the middle of that dream?

It begins today.

Real is Better Than Perfect

"You don't have to be perfect to be good, to be loved..." - Night Cycles

“Share your weaknesses. Share your hard moments. Share your real side. It'll either scare away every fake person in your life or it will inspire them to finally let go of that mirage called "perfection," which will open the doors to the most important relationships you'll ever be a part of." - Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing

As you may know, I'm a staff contributor to the delicious digital magazine The Phoenix Soul. Usually I submit poetry, but this time around, given that I've been living in the dance zone thanks to my dance fitness certification work, so I thought I'd contribute something along those lines. What resulted is a video about showing up to dance as a daily practice, which is such a delicious concept.

So, this video. There's a bit in there of me explaining my thought process and what I see dance practice as . . . and then there's a good 10+ minutes of me dancing around.

And the dancing looks mostly like flailing.

We're talking serious flail.

Like, awkward flail.

And watching that video? It's not fun for me. Because I how I feel when I'm dancing + how I look when I'm dancing don't seem to equate.

But I watched it. And edited it. And even threw up a little preview on Instagram -- some of the less flail-y dance, but still . . . I felt incredibly vulnerable sharing it.

I have privilege of interacting with some of the best, most beautiful souls as part of my online creativity biz + general wordalicious glitter-flinging efforts. You all are seriously awesome. So even though I felt vulnerable posting that video for all the world to see, I knew you'd back me up.

And you did. Because you are marvelous.

But one of the first comments that showed up, just seconds after hitting that "post" button, was not so marvelous.

"You have no rhythm," was the basic sentiment, left not only on this particular post, but on another dancing video I shared back in December as well.

[And let me just say that this is not going to turn into a pity party. I can take some negativity. And I have good boundaries. And I know that I have rhythm. I just dance kind of awkwardly, too. ;) ]

So this whole uncomfortable adventure has got me thinking -- what is valuable about my dance video? It's valuable to me when I post something and you all say nice things to me. That's really lovely, and my ego soaks that juice right up.

But the value can't end there.

Or really, I don't want it to.

I share because our society is obsessed with and demands perfection -- particularly in women -- and frankly I find it exhausting. Dehumanizing. Degrading.

Because I refuse to believe that I -- nor any other person on this wide world -- is only valuable if they are this perfect, this beautiful, this such-and-such-arbitrary-designation.

I share these random videos of me awkwardly dancing in my saggy spandex because I want the world to know that it's okay to fully inhabit your skin and your life as is.

Not later, when you've landed that job.

Not later, when you're married.

Not later, when you're ten pounds thinner.

Not later, when you've updated your wardrobe/lasered your lady beard into oblivion/graduated with a high powered degree/signed a book deal finally/etc., etc., etc.

Not later.

You are worthy/beautiful/valuable/powerful now.

And if I show up with my real-life mommy tummy and too-long toe nails and greasy hair that hasn't been washed in more days than I care to calculate . . . maybe you will, too. And then because you showed up real and true, that person over there will . . . and then that person, and that other person, and

all of a sudden we're not talking some silly video on Instagram, we're talking about changing the damn world.

That expected + demanded perfection? It's a mirage, ever-unattainable. Don't be its slave. Strive for authentic growth, not unsustainable, white-knuckled, impossible perfection.

Be your glorious human self.

Our culture feels like a cage to me at times, like I'm a rat fighting back with all the ferocity I can manage against the sometimes-quite-rancid cheese.

And sometimes, that fight looks like posting a [possibly not-having-of-rhythm] dance video on the internet.

And hoping that you'll join me, somehow, in your own way.

I'd like that.

(And! If you do want to join in, tag me! Find me on Facebook, or tag me @sheofthewild on Instagram + Twitter. I'd seriously love to enjoy and partake of your piece of this odd but delicious revolution.)

I'd also really like to know what you see and feel as valuable contributions to the world, both from others and from yourself. What is your mission? How do you choose to accomplish it? What do you believe? What do you believe about yourself? Tell me in the comments.

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One of the ways I'm trying to change the world is to make it easier for the many brilliant but unheard writers birth their words in book form.

So I've created this super-easy-to-use downloadable Kindle template to help make your publishing journey a lot less stressful. I know first-hand how frustrating Kindle formatting can be, and this is my part of the answer. And it just became available this week, so yay! If you're interested, find out more HERE.

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