Discomfort

It’s no secret that being seen scares me. I’ve tried my best to be open and honest about it (in as quiet a way as possible) because it makes things a tiny bit easier. When I name my fear, it gives it less power. So that’s what I’m doing today. Naming the fear.

Yesterday was the weekly coaching call with Sage. We’re getting close to the end of TEP3 and one of the questions we were asked to contemplate was “What discomfort are you willing to experience?” Essentially, would you rather be uncomfortable doing the thing, or disappointed because you didn’t do the thing?

This was a very powerful question for me. I wrote in my vision planner at the beginning of TEP3 that I’m not worried about making money or being best seller. Which is still true. But I also know that if no one reads my book, I’m going to be disappointed. So that leaves me with one question. What discomfort am I willing to endure to avoid the disappointment?

Something else that came up was how we receive feedback. I know without a doubt that I’m horrible at that. I take everything personally and feel like a failure at the slightest hint of imperfection. When I got the feedback from my beta readers the first thing I did was shut down and run away. I chose not to feel the discomfort. Thanks to Sage, I was able to face that discomfort and move through it to do my revisions. That had not been the case in the past. So at least I’m seeing some improvement. But Sage gave me a challenge. She said that when I get feedback I should pause and sit in the discomfort instead of running away.

I’m learning, though, that it’s not just negative feedback that sends me into hiding. Yesterday I decided to see what I could do to pull some of the followers from my social anxiety Instagram account over to my writing one. The posts that always received the most views and engagement were reels, so I went for it. I recorded a brief reel and after deleting and restarting a few times, chose to post imperfectly. Not only that, but I connected that reel to my writing account as a collaborator and somehow (I’m really not sure how) on my personal Facebook account.

And suddenly the notifications started coming in. I got comments and follows from all of my accounts. Which means that my social anxiety account, which was once my hiding place, is now being seen by my friends and family. And that is so very scary.

I think I just connected something. When I had my social anxiety account, I actually had quite a few followers and, while I wasn’t super seen, it was more than I had expected. And I was mostly okay with it because I didn’t know any of them personally. Besides, if they were following me there was a high probability that they have social anxiety as well and wouldn’t think that anything I shared was unusual. But the idea of people I know, friends and family, seeing that side of me is what is scary. Even when they are supportive.

Which is a whole lot like why I could get up on stage to perform in theatre, but talking to a small group can be so hard. Because it’s not personal. When I’m performing a play, it’s not me. When I post on my social anxiety account, it’s like I’m a character. I’m what’s expected for that particular audience. And I do that in so many areas of my life. I play a role to get through social situations. Even with friends and family (that feels incredibly vulnerable to type). I put on the role I’m expected to play depending on who I’m with. And the thought of people seeing me as anything other than my carefully curated persona that they are used to is like peeling my skin away and leaving me raw and exposed.

So the question remains, am I willing to sit in this discomfort? I want to be. I want to be authentic. And that means that I’m not just one thing. I’m a lot of things. Sort of like my book. I don’t have just one audience. I don’t have to pigeonhole myself and trim away the things other people might not understand. Even when it’s uncomfortable.

I will tell you right now that this post is making me uncomfortable. So I’m considering this practice. I will sit in the discomfort and show my anxious brain that I can survive, regardless of any (or no) feedback. I will peel away my layers and show people that I am more than just one thing.