Why it terrifies me and how I’m learning to work through the fear

I am a new online writer.

I have always written in private. But this is me finally going public.

I am also a perfectionist with impostor syndrome who has spent her life running away from pretty much everything.

I don’t mean the type of perfectionism you admit to with a smug smile when asked to list your weaknesses in a job interview. I mean the crippling kind that creeps up behind you to whisper ‘well, if it isn’t perfect, is it really worth doing?’ Then Impostor Syndrome chimes in, ‘and who do you think you are anyway?’

They offer me the sweet release of giving up and I gratefully accept. Once again saved from the unthinkable humiliation of not being perfect.

Who is the enemy of this charming pair?

Consistency.

As always when starting something new, my first form of procrastination is to overwhelm myself with tips and advice. According to almost all of the articles I read and the email courses I took, consistency is the key to being a successful online writer.

This is not a surprise. It’s very sound advice. It makes perfect sense.

Simple.

But not easy.

Every time I hear the advice repeated, fear bubbles up my throat and my heart sinks.

A couple of years ago, that might have been the end. I would have rationalized my way out of an impending disaster. Ciao. But now, with one simple (but not easy) shift, I am feeling able to work through the fear, let go of perfect, and just keep going.

Where does the fear come from?

In my family, everyone has a passion that they excel in. I thought I had one too.

In a society in which expertise is segregated into neat little compartments, I thought I was only allowed one and that it had to be a perfect fit.

I went for it. I worked hard.

As it turned out, my fear of auditions and dislike of pretentious people didn’t mix well with the contemporary dance world.

Unfortunately, I had pinned my whole identity onto the shimmering image of being a dancer so the crash was painful. A slow motion pile up that took years to domino out of control.

The trauma reverberated.

In the meantime, I tried desperately to contort myself into a string of new identities; Fitness instructor, world traveler, biologist, yoga teacher, activist, farmer, Zumba teacher…the list goes on.

Each time, the whispers and shadows of perfectionism and imposter syndrome would catch up with me. My first big crash had fractured my self trust so I was flimsy and vulnerable to their mutterings.

For years, I was determined to hoard all my proverbial eggs in one perfect basket. I thought the problem was that I just hadn’t found the right one yet. As each basket ripped apart, I was left juggling eggs… and well…

Messy.

Each smashed egg, felt like a smashed identity. My sense of failure and mourning grew.

This sounds like I’ve had a miserable life. I haven’t. There was much beauty and joy in the details and I learned so much. But the falls were hard.

The cycle of ‘Yay, I found my thing!…oh wait it’s hard…quick, run away before I fail again!’ was a strong recurring pattern.

This is where the fear comes from.

What if it happens again?

Breaking the Cycle

I have just turned 40 and I suppose you could say that I’m ‘settling down’. I have my first long-term rental contract, my own garden, a lovely husband and a golden dog. We would like to have a family. Something I NEVER thought I would do.

It’s terrifying and wonderful.

And it demands consistency.

I have chosen to be in a situation in which other beings rely on me. When things don’t turn out to be perfect, I can’t run away. When I feel like my mask is slipping, I can no longer hide.

I am breaking the cycle with one big mindset shift.

I am learning to lean into discomfort.

I had heard the phrase ‘lean into discomfort’ countless times in wellness contexts. I had even used it myself in my soothing ‘yoga teacher voice’ as I encouraged bodies and minds to bend just a little bit more. But until recently, I don’t think I understood how it plays out in ‘real life’. Or just how vital it is for living well.

The discomfort I’m talking about pops up at different times for different people and getting through it is the key to achieving consistency. For me it pops up early and often. While writing this article for example.

It’s a physical experience.

A tightening of the chest and throat, tense shoulders and jaw, tongue pressed to the roof of my mouth. My body twitches and fidgets with suppressed flight response. Brain fog prevents me from thinking and writing cohesively. Curling tendrils of fear grab on to the legs of each word. A messy and contradictory inner dialogue; ‘I can’t do this…just push through; you can do it… it’s ridiculous to think I could do this.’ A feeling of despair.

This is when I lean in.

There is one thing that allows me to do this without being swallowed whole. I call her my witness.

She is calm and compassionate and has a good sense of humor. She stands back and tells me the mess and the fear are ok. To just accept and learn. She doesn’t make any grand promises. She just enjoys the ride without judgement.

Of course she’s not perfect. She sometimes get entangled.

But she is the one who has the capacity for consistency.

She is me!

Gaining Mental Agency

As I struggled to find my place in society, I gradually started to lose faith in mainstream cultural narratives and ‘the system’ as a whole.

While this was destabilizing, it was also liberating.

I slowly realized that some of my core assumptions about how I ‘should’ live, were not true for me. Difficult questions arose and my mind started to stretch. This allowed an expanded self-awareness to develop. I gained more mental agency. A more fluid consciousness.

I finally let go of the idea of ‘one perfect basket’ and allowed my eggs to nestle in several niches. Imposter syndrome started to retreat because the weight of my integrity was more evenly spread.

It wasn’t a smooth journey. There were many bumps and still are. But at least I was conscious that I was on a journey.

This is when someone recommended I give meditation a try.

It was during my first intensive meditation retreat that my witness really came into being. I was learning the Vipassana technique, which is all about observing without judgement. In other words, leaning into discomfort. My mind was ripe for it and the shift was huge.

For the first few months after the retreat, fear was a distant memory. I was suddenly able to hold things lightly and choose how I responded to the world.

For that short time, I was the witness.

I don’t believe meditation is a cure all for every mind, but it works with my mental structures. It is one of the few things I have stuck with. The initial effect faded over time. The fear returned. But I am motivated by the memory of that state. A feeling of possibility.

When there is discomfort, the same old fearful complexes arise, but my habitual response is different. There is more choice. Most of the time, I can recognize when I need to stop, move my body, go outside, or push through.

One of the reasons I managed to stay consistent with my practice is that meditation feels like a ‘meta move’. It overarches and squidges into the spaces between all of society’s neat little boxes.

For me, writing is similar. Perhaps for this reason, I have also stayed consistent with my writing practice.

From my embarrassing teenage diaries to my more thoughtful adult musings, my pen has also been an observing voice overarching and squidging in between.

The transition from private to public is uncomfortable.

Time to lean in.