Wednesday Wisdom: Just Say Yes

I'm currently reading "Year of Yes" by Shonda Rhimes as part of a commitment to, quite literally, get my life.  The book is fabulous and I highly recommend it but this blog entry isn't me reviewing Shonda's book, it's me reviewing me.

I know I'm a month early for conversations about resolutions and lifestyle changes but hear me out. Every year on my birthday I take stock of the year I had.  I think about what brought me joy, what brought me pain, the lessons I learned and the ones I missed.  I look at the year that passed and the person I started the year as and who I ended up becoming in that time and figure out what I want to bring with me into the next year of my life and what I let go of and leave in the past.

I started doing this when I spent my 24th birthday pregnant and alone.  Let me clarify that before any of you make assumptions.  I have and have always had several football teams worth of family members within walking distance at any given moment.  My father had 14 brothers and sisters and my mother had 11.  I have enough cousins to populate a small country and I'm extremely close to quite a few of them.  My parents, for every rough patch we've ever had, will run to me faster than Flo Jo and Carl Lewis if I ever say "I need you."  I had friends—the ones you can depend on (to quote Houdini)—and "friends" that smiled in my face but all the time wanted to take my place (to quote the O'Jays).  I also had my oldest daughter with me and my little brother hadn't passed away yet and we were closer than two peas in a pod. So my being alone wasn't about literally having no one, it was about what I was feeling and going through at the time.

I was seven months pregnant, on the heels of a very nasty break up that left me with very little other than a broken heart, broken spirit, a beautiful daughter and another on the way. I wasn't working, I was living with my parents and I was deeply, deeply ashamed of who I'd become and how far I'd fallen.  In the middle of eating a red velvet cupcake and crying I promised myself that I'd be in a better place by my next birthday.  

And so began my personal year in review.  

Well, yesterday was my birthday.  As per tradition, I had a red velvet cupcake and took an honest look at my life.  It's a lot better than it was at 24 but there's still room for improvement.  One of those areas is my tendency to yes to everyone but myself.

My mom needs me to do something for her?  Absolutely, yes.

My daddy needs something?  It's done.

My children ask me if I can do, be, make, come to, ect?  Mama makes it happen.

My family needs (not wants lol) me to help? Tell me when and where.

My friends are going through it and need me?  I'm coming through w/the 'S' on my chest.

I want something? — Record scratch.

I can't really...

I'm not sure if...

I don't think...

I wish I could but...

Saying yes to myself is never my first response.  Which is surprising, given that I feel I've come a long way in the whole "respect your worth/recognize your value" journey.  At 37, (Lawdhammercy 40 is waiting on me at the door!) I can't imagine allowing myself to be brought to the low place I inhabited at 24.  You don't get to harm me and I remain silent.  You don't get to hurt me and I make excuses.  You don't get to dehumanize and devalue me and I accept it as "an issue" you're working on. You don't get to betray me, and I continue to set a place for you at my table.  I have learned a measure of self care, is what I'm saying.

But I realized yesterday that I need to take it further.  

In her book Shonda Rhimes talks about her sister planting the seed that started her on her journey by pointing out that Shonda "Never says yes to anything."  She had invites to go there, do this, speak here, and she turned them all down.  Now, she felt she had her reasons (she was introverted, she has social anxiety, she had children to raise and an empire to build) but what it came down to, the truth beneath the lies she told herself was that she was afraid.

And I get that, because so am I.  And over the years I'd told myself the same lies to justify why "no" was my default response when it came to my needs, wants, desires and opportunities.

Introvert? Check.

Anxiety? Check.

"Single Mom"? Check (Ya'll know why those quotes are there, right?)

"Too busy"? Check

It's not that those things weren't (and in some cases are still) true. It was that, at the core, those aren't the reasons I said (and continue to say) no when it comes to me.

The truth is I am afraid of failing.

I am afraid of being found lacking.

I am afraid of not being accepted.

I am afraid of not being good enough. 

These are not easy truths to tell myself, about myself. 

But they are my truths. And I have to embrace them and acknowledge them if I'm going to change them or at the very least, learn to walk in them comfortably.

And here's where all that ties into my writing. 

I've always wanted to be a writer. Not a singer, not a dancer, (except for that brief period where I wanted to be a ballerina which...whew. Not with my ability to trip over air lol)  not an actress, but a writer.  Over the years I've talked myself out of it a hundred times for a hundred different reasons but at the end of the day, the truth is I'm afraid. As long as I'm an "aspiring" author, I can't be a failed author.  As long as I'm forever working on this novel or outlining that story, I don't have to worry about rejection.  I can't be rejected by publishers if I never send them a manuscript.  I can't be told "you can't sit with us" by fellow authors if I never walk up to the table.  I can't disappoint and disgust readers if I never put any out any material. 

Sure, I'll never win the race if I don't come out of the starting blocks but I'll also never lose the race if I'm not a participant. 

The stone, cold truth is I've kept myself in limbo.  I start projects and don't finish them.  I rarely talk about my writing projects with anyone. I don't share my writing with anyone (I don't ask for help, I don't ask for feedback, I don't join writing groups) unless it's fanfic and even then I just post and slink quietly away (no promo, no asking for beta readers, just...yeah).  I do all the prep (research, plotting, outlining, character boards, character profiles, world building) start writing...and then abandon it.  

I never finish.

And I always have a "good" reason.

My muse left me.

I got this other great idea that I just HAVE to work on right now.

I'm going through _____ right now and writing isn't a priority.

I've lost my mojo for this story.

And on, and on and on the excuses go.

But the reality is, I am afraid of finishing.  I am afraid of putting myself out there. I am afraid of my dream going down in a hail of one star reviews from disgruntled readers and snickers and crickets from underwhelmed peers.  

If I say yes I can and yes I will...then I might fail.

Or disappoint someone.

Or embarrass myself.

Or get it wrong.

Or get it right and create expectation.

Or...

Or...

Or...

The possibilities are endless.  And I'm worse case scenario kind of girl (my anxiety and depression manifest in some serious catastrophic thinking, ya'll) so of course, it's always the least favorable outcome that I visualize coming true.

But, the thing is, I didn't say yes last year, not really.  Sure, I did some things, took some "serious" steps like setting up a social media presence and awkward turtling my way into some friendships with fellow writers.  I even swallowed my fear and panic and wrote a guest book review for a friend's blog.  I also let a few of my offline people (okay fine, three and one of them is my therapist) know that I'm writing again in a half ass effort at some accountability but I did everything but write consistently.  I did everything but finish.  

So, like Shonda, I'm spending the next year saying yes. 

Not to everything and everyone mind you, lol.  Just...I'm opening myself to opportunity.  I'm saying yes and allowing for the possibility of both failure and success.  

This time next year I will not be an "aspiring" author with books "coming soon."

This time next year I will be an author with a body of published work.

I am scared as hell...but I am still saying yes.