While writing this post, I realised something. The reason commitment is so hard is because it’s a form of vulnerability. Regardless of what you’re committing to, you’re leaving yourself exposed.
At the beginning of the month, I read a book. And I haven’t stopped talking about it since. The book in question is one that required several recommendations from trusted friends before I picked it up – Daring Greatly by Brené Brown.
Sometimes, books come into your life precisely when you’re looking for the words to vocalise feelings you can’t (yet) define. So it was with Daring Greatly.
I like to think of myself as someone who’s got everything figured out. I’m the (wo)man with a plan. Professional life – sorted. Personal life – sorted. There’s nothing to complain about. Perhaps that’s part of the problem.
When something unexpected hits, I flounder.
This post has been taking shape in my mind for a long time now. I had expected to write a book review. But when a book resonates so strongly, perhaps it’s worth considering the context.
I’ve been silent for a long while. Initially, I’d simply gotten caught up in life. Then, the pandemic hit.
Of course, I still had my usual interests to write about if I were so inclined. In March, I achieved a lifelong dream of visiting Cornwall. In June, I saw seals off the coast of Norfolk. In July, I hiked Dartmoor. In August, I relaxed by the second largest lake in Finland.
You’ll notice the months of April and May are conspicuously absent. Lockdown months.
These months were spent navigating my new normal – new job, new flat, new sense of malaise. Sure, I did all the things everyone else in this country did – Zoom parties, weekly National Theatre streams, bizarre new hobbies. And still, I found myself with an unsettling amount of free time.
I was always so active – walking upwards of two hours a day, daily gym sessions, weekly theatre visits, regular catch-ups with friends – and now I was cooped up inside with my new birdwatching binoculars. And there’s not enough birds around to watch, so you end up forced to face yourself.
Without my usual distractions, I’m not sure I’m happy with who I am. And it’s that much harder to silence the “gremlins”, as Brené Brown calls intrusive self-criticism.
The answer, of course, is learning to accept yourself – not making excuses, but accepting yourself as you are and always striving to improve. I don’t know whether my attempts at self-improvement are sufficient, but I feel that despite the setbacks, I’ve made progress.
I started writing poetry again. I became interested in photography. I’m growing a garden. I took a leap forward in my career. I’ve made new friends and reconnected with old ones. I talk to my family every day. I’ve grown to understand myself better.
And so, it’s like Brené Brown says, the answer is showing up. Showing up, standing in the arena, and daring greatly. Opening yourself up to external criticism, perhaps, but knowing within yourself that you’re enough.
In essence, that’s what this blog is. And that’s why I’m here, occasionally writing something – useful or not – read by someone or read by no one. It’s my attempt to show up and to be heard.
Swordfoosh 