Like so many women, I've spent my life trying to be perceived a certain way. A way that earned me praise because it aligned with my parents' values: that I be thrifty and efficient and smart and competent and tidy and spiritual and nice and always on time. That I do the right things at the right phases of life. That I not be wasteful or a burden or a mess.
As I celebrate my birthday (I could now wear a jersey from a certain California football team), I can't help but reflect upon where life has taken me and my own choices in the journey. And at this phase of middle-age, I'm realizing just how much of my choices haven't been about embracing my gifts or pursuing joy, but merely avoiding censure.
Ouch.
I know I'm not alone in this. Women in our culture are held to very high standards. We're made to feel ashamed if, as Brene Brown put it, we can't "do it all, do it perfectly and never let them see you sweat." But, she notes "this web of unattainable, conflicting, competing expectations about who we’re supposed to be...is a straight-jacket."
Getting out of the rut of feeling "not enough," and all the ways that feeling impedes living life fully, requires being courageously vulnerable and authentic. Shame thrives in darkness, but withers when exposed to the light and to loving acceptance instead of censure.
That work for each of us begins with being authentic to and with ourselves. The one area I've struggled most with in my writing life is being reticent to allow my inner rebel to exist. The longer I suppress her, the more she returns the favor and keeps me stuck.
My inner rebel currently has me working on a new novel in my series, but *gasp* it's out of order. It would chronologically fit between my first and second published book.
The voice of shame says, "what kind of idiot writes book two after book three? It's creative suicide. You can't do that. It's wrong. Just stop now. You're going to ruin what you've already accomplished."
And my rebel voice replies, "who says you have to write a series in order? What a dumb rule. This project is awesome, and deep, and will take you to amazing places creatively, emotionally, and spiritually."
And so the project stutters along, flowing when I let the rebel have her way, and stalling when that paralyzing fear of breaking a publishing taboo wins the day.
In 2015 I began gathering a bunch of blog posts, and writing some new material, all focused on productivity, especially on tips to leverage small pockets of time to keep in touch with writing projects when life is hectic. That book is about 85% written.
Why haven't I finished it? The voice of shame accusing me: "You writing about productivity? What a laugh. You're the most unproductive writer in the history of the world. You've only put out two novels, four years apart. Why would anyone want your tips?"
And my inner rebel counters, "Well, who wants productivity tips from some four-novels-a-year person who has no friends, no hobbies, no side hussle, and neglects her family? That's not where much of anyone really lives. But there most certainly are people who want to know how you squeeze a little creative joy into an already full life."
See, when I let my inner rebel talk, she's actually pretty awesome. She isn't interested in life's shoulds but rather coulds: "This idea could be a little scary and weird and possibly not pan out, but it could lead somewhere cool. Let's explore!"
What risks does your inner rebel goad you toward?
As I celebrate my birthday (I could now wear a jersey from a certain California football team), I can't help but reflect upon where life has taken me and my own choices in the journey. And at this phase of middle-age, I'm realizing just how much of my choices haven't been about embracing my gifts or pursuing joy, but merely avoiding censure.
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| Photo by Penywise at morguefile.com |
Ouch.
I know I'm not alone in this. Women in our culture are held to very high standards. We're made to feel ashamed if, as Brene Brown put it, we can't "do it all, do it perfectly and never let them see you sweat." But, she notes "this web of unattainable, conflicting, competing expectations about who we’re supposed to be...is a straight-jacket."
Getting out of the rut of feeling "not enough," and all the ways that feeling impedes living life fully, requires being courageously vulnerable and authentic. Shame thrives in darkness, but withers when exposed to the light and to loving acceptance instead of censure.
That work for each of us begins with being authentic to and with ourselves. The one area I've struggled most with in my writing life is being reticent to allow my inner rebel to exist. The longer I suppress her, the more she returns the favor and keeps me stuck.
My inner rebel currently has me working on a new novel in my series, but *gasp* it's out of order. It would chronologically fit between my first and second published book.
The voice of shame says, "what kind of idiot writes book two after book three? It's creative suicide. You can't do that. It's wrong. Just stop now. You're going to ruin what you've already accomplished."
And my rebel voice replies, "who says you have to write a series in order? What a dumb rule. This project is awesome, and deep, and will take you to amazing places creatively, emotionally, and spiritually."
And so the project stutters along, flowing when I let the rebel have her way, and stalling when that paralyzing fear of breaking a publishing taboo wins the day.
In 2015 I began gathering a bunch of blog posts, and writing some new material, all focused on productivity, especially on tips to leverage small pockets of time to keep in touch with writing projects when life is hectic. That book is about 85% written.
Why haven't I finished it? The voice of shame accusing me: "You writing about productivity? What a laugh. You're the most unproductive writer in the history of the world. You've only put out two novels, four years apart. Why would anyone want your tips?"
And my inner rebel counters, "Well, who wants productivity tips from some four-novels-a-year person who has no friends, no hobbies, no side hussle, and neglects her family? That's not where much of anyone really lives. But there most certainly are people who want to know how you squeeze a little creative joy into an already full life."
See, when I let my inner rebel talk, she's actually pretty awesome. She isn't interested in life's shoulds but rather coulds: "This idea could be a little scary and weird and possibly not pan out, but it could lead somewhere cool. Let's explore!"
What risks does your inner rebel goad you toward?
