We're all scared of each other, so let's just be scared together
For those afraid to share their voice
The fact that you’re reading a newsletter from me today is a feat, because man, I’ve been a mental mess over this one!
I can’t tell you how many thoughts have gotten stuck in my knuckles (Is that why I can’t put my rings on in the morning?) because they haven’t felt impactful enough…thought out enough…or BIG enough.
Isn’t that hilarious, given how I just changed the scope of my posts to focus on the opposite?
The “small” things I’ve wanted to write about haven’t had weight. So, my frozen voice has had no choice but to, well, wait.
But the other night,
In the middle of the night,
That all changed.
For well over a month, David has had this lingering, gnarly cough that gives both of us anxiety at night. When he has a mid-sleep hack attack, he worries about keeping me awake while I worry about him worrying about me. It’s a silly cycle that has led us to sleep in separate rooms for what has felt like 84 years.
On Sunday night, though, we attempted to join forces again. (Keyword: attempted.)
When his throat racket struck at 1:30 a.m., my alleged husband — who I now call “roomie” — escaped to the guest room before I could even make sense of where I was. (You mean I wasn’t actually trying on flow-y, floral dresses in California? Dang, those prints were vivid!)
As I laid there hearing the poor guy coughing into a pillow behind a closed door down the hall, I could feel his discomfort.
He had something he had to get OUT, yet he felt bad about it. He went into hiding over it. He did everything to stifle it, in fear of the nuisance he would be if he stayed LOUD about it.
I know I’m painting a severely more dramatic picture than how this felt for David, but here’s why I’m drawing it up this way:
Every time he attempted to quiet himself, all I could think about was a theme that’s been weaving through my pre-writing mind and recent deep convos:
FEAR.
Fear of doing it wrong.
Fear of making noise.
Fear of judgement.
As we laid in our separate rooms alone — divided by a worry we both ultimately felt — I saw this as a metaphor for what happens when we’re ready to SHARE.
From vulnerable questions and embarrassing confessions to burning stories and ALL forms of art, when we begin let this stuff fly, something happens. We feel like David felt when he started coughing.
We worry about inconveniencing people. We just know it will raise eyebrows or fall completely flat. So, we run and hide and suffocate that once-great idea into a pillow. That thing that started out so wonderfully in our minds is now dirt.
And while we’re burying it…
We think we’re the only one who’s scared.
We think we’re the only one who’s incapable.
We think everyone else can share things with ease.
But here’s the thing:
Everyone else is thinking those EXACT SAME THINGS.
(Well, everyone but Guy Kawasaki. He told me he doesn’t get nervous. Does he also eat lightning?)
After I had that AHA moment over muffled voices, I rolled out of bed and immediately started journaling with the only utensil I could find in my nightstand: this thing called a pencil. (Remember those?)
For the next 20 minutes, crouched on the floor, I furiously filled the last four pages of a hot pink leather journal I started nine years ago this month whilst living in Germany. (You wouldn’t believe the full-circle things I read on those pages later. Oh, and the pencil I was using said “Falling Walls Berlin.” Everything’s connected. Everything.)
The first thing I wrote down was something I said in Part 1 of Break the Ground:
We’re all scared of each other, so let’s just be scared together.
This fell out of my mouth at the end of a loving rant — all sparked by every participant’s shockingly shared fears of getting it wrong AND their assumptions that everything I share online is done with confidence.
<Brit looks around>
WHO, ME????
Yeah, no.
I’m always scared. I mean, it took a week for my muscles to unravel after leading that live call. I was terrified to do it, and sweating all the way through it, but oh, how I knew I needed to do it. And wow, am I glad I did.
I’m still processing a lot of this, but here are three early takeaways for you:
1: What feels insignificant to you could be MOTIVATING for someone else.
One of the BtG participants asked to pick my brain about how I published my book, so I told her I’d type up some basic bullets to get us started. Two and a half pages later, I didn't think she’d learn anything new.
For example, to get inspiration on how to design and format it, I shared how I spent hours flipping through books at Barnes & Noble and holding every book I owned. But this felt obvious. It felt weird to suggest something so simple. I almost didn’t include it.
Well, guess what she said when she received it?
I absolutely loved reading the self-publishing email. I’m so excited to get started. I’m totally going to go looking at all the cookbooks and decide the format, too. This is why I love chatting with you because you give me tips I wouldn’t have thought about.
BOOM.
2: What feels imperfect to you could be BEAUTIFUL for someone else.
Before one of the ladies signed up, she told me she was “Japanese and a slow talker especially in English” and that she was a little bit nervous. I encouraged her to join, especially since her One Thing is to share her voice without feeling pressure.
Well, her English isn’t perfect by any means, but the speed at which she speaks is beautiful. It gives her words power. It gives her delivery great depth and emotion.
Since the first workshop, she’s been posting various wonderful videos and reminding me of the magic that happens when we just…go…slower.
She even signed on for some book coaching with yours truly. (!!!)
3: What feels not ready to you could be PERFECTLY timed for someone else.
Remember a while back when I said I was setting out to finish that other book I’ve been working on for 76 years? It’s certainly been in motion, but more of a slow motion. I can’t tell if I’ve been held back by self-doubt or giving myself grace in this season of motherhood…or both.
But one thing that’s happening that I NEVER expected is that it’s impacting my accountability buddy. The book isn’t even near completion. It’s still in a bunch of Google Docs. It doesn’t feel like it has a cohesive message yet. And hilariously enough, coming from the gal who LIVES for the small things, the chapters feel too simple. They feel too obvious.
But Jodi begs to differ.
She recently told me how the content has been showing up for her in moments of tension and uncertainty. What I feel is quirky, weird, or would make someone yell, “DUH!” she believes is super helpful, accessible, and downright refreshing.
Wow. Just wow. Something that’s not finished, polished, or even remotely packaged yet has already landed for one person deeply.
That is BIG.
I hope today’s letter (which I almost scrapped entirely!!) lands for you exactly the way it needs to.
I hope it moves you to share a little more of YOU with someone else. Because I promise you, someone out there needs it. You will NOT be a nuisance. You’ll be a welcomed interruption…a perfectly timed gift…a breath of fresh air.
And if you ever need an extra nudge or someone to say ME TOO, I’m here for you. I see you! It’d make my day to hear from you.
To sharing our voices and being scared together,
I'm so happy to read what you mentioned! I'm motivated to keep speaking up without pressure. With relaxed condition. Thank you Brit!
“We’re all scared of each other, so let’s just be scared together.” SO GOOD. This post makes me feel freer and less alone. If your posts have a common thread, I’d say this is it. Or one of them. And it means I always want to read them right away!