Permission Slips

Permission Slips

I love Brene Brown’s concept of permission slips: writing ourselves notes that tell us what we are allowed to do as a method for getting unstuck.

Lately I’ve been doing this and I’m amazed by how powerful it can be. Some of mine are:

  • You have permission to write what you want to write
  • You are allowed to feel successful even if no one says it
  • The goals you’ve set are achievable if you are patient
  • Believe in yourself, Julianne – you can do this!

Try it. Write your name on your permission slip so it’s not too general. Make it specific to you. Feel the liberation that comes from knowing you are all you need to pursue your deepest desires and talents. Stop waiting for someone in authority to give you the green light. You are the authority.

permission slipsI’ve been struggling with my lack of qualifications lately. Looking for a part-time job when you aren’t officially trained in one specific vocation is rough on the self esteem.

I know my value is not located in my achievements. I’m worthy of love and care no matter what my tax return lists as my income or the number of books I’ve sold. It’s the same for you. But sometimes the world beats us down anyway. The good news is, the falling down doesn’t matter. Only the getting up and trying again counts.

Confidence is a tricky beast. When it flows, we feel invincible. We can do anything. But when it ebbs, that’s the time for permission slips. We need to remind ourselves that we have what it takes to sit in the driver’s seat of our own lives. We don’t need someone smarter, stronger or braver to rescue us. We can do that all by ourselves.

I can use my experience to tell people younger than me to persevere in something they love and finish it so they receive a qualification in something. This will make their lives smoother and easier. But if I continue to feel the need for this legitimization of my skill set, I have training options open to me. As long as we are alive, no matter what age we are, we can start a new adventure. We can learn, grow, evolve, become expert in an area of our choosing.

We can refuse to settle for less than we long for. We are in charge of our own permission slips. We can move bravely forward, creating the future we desire, refusing to give up when the inevitable bumps and detours arise. No one else is going to make our dreams come true. That’s on each of us. Permission slips can help us get there when we feel discouraged. Thank you, genius Brene, for this powerful tool.

Rejection

Rejection

 

rejection

Rejection is a bitch. It can take you out at the knees and severely bruise your confidence.

I received a rejection this week for a government grant I applied for. I wanted to take the Literary Salon experience of meaningful conversation to as many high school English classes as possible in the 2016-17 school year.

I thought this project fit well in the Spoken Word category, but the deciding committee did not agree.

 

Expectations

I fully recognize that a huge part of my problem with rejection is the expectation that I build around certain outcomes. This is my fault. I’d love to be breezy about every aspect of my life (hell, even a few areas would be a good start!) but find this immensely challenging.

In theory, I should’ve applied for this grant and then carried on with my other work – writing a manuscript and a screenplay, querying agents, submitting to magazines, developing new workshop topics, sending out speaking proposals, creating another grant application – and allowed the chips to fall wherever they are meant to without investing in any desired future result.

I need to practice this. I have no shortage of other projects to work on, but I seem hardwired to daydream my way into what I long for most, and then become righteously pissed-off when the reality veers away from my carefully-laid plans.

We all face rejection, in one way or another. As a writer, I’ve stuck my damn hand up in the air and volunteered for it, but some still hurt more than others. Perhaps it’s the cumulative effect of too many “no’s” without a “yes” thrown in to break up the monotony.

Internal Monologue

Our internal monologue is what gets us into the deepest trouble. I should know by now that saying to myself, “It’s okay, Julianne. You tried and that’s what matters. This particular committee didn’t see the value in this work but that doesn’t mean it’s not worthwhile. Keep on going – you’re doing fine” is healthier and more productive than the alternative, “You suck and everyone knows it. Why don’t you do the world a favour and stop writing, speaking and creating altogether. You’re only embarrassing yourself.”

Rejection is a part of life. How we handle it is what matters most. I’m going to allow myself to feel this one by having a good cry and then summoning the courage to call the grant office and try to understand why my application failed. If I can learn from this for the next setback, it will help me in the long run.

Where I go from here is the important part. Which voice will I listen to? The angry, critical, shaming one or the loving, hopeful, supportive one? I get to choose that. So do you.

Self Care and Pride

Self Care and Pride

I’ve noticed something in the last few literary salons I’ve facilitated: a link exists between self care and pride. Both words make people uncomfortable but in total different ways.

As a culture we have work to do in these areas. We’ve sped up the pace of our daily lives, causing the concept of self care to fall to the bottom of our to-do list. And we’ve also begun to define pride as selfish, egotistical, shameful.

Why do these two words (okay, three words but let’s lump “self care” together into one) make us squirm? I’ve heard women and men deflect away from questions centred on these ideas. In the two salons I ran yesterday in a high school, male and female students in grade nine and eleven shied away from anything involving pride and self care.

I find this fascinating. Like the brilliant Brene Brown’s research linking shame and vulnerability (not that I’m in the same league as my hero…see, there I go, qualifying what I’m about to say so it doesn’t sound too boastful), I am beginning to see that self care and pride are somehow connected.

I don’t understand it yet, but my Nurture is Valuable project ties in here (I’ve now interviewed 9 women on my way to my goal of 100 – please get in touch if you are willing to answer 5 short questions via email) and I want to pursue this further. We seem to feel afraid of our own strength. It’s uncomfortable to stand up and say, “I’m good at such-and-such. I’ve worked hard. I made/wrote/raised/cooked/organized/cold-called/created/cared for/succeeded at this.”

Self Care and PrideWhy is it so challenging to own our abilities, work ethic and outcomes? When I wrote the question, “What is one thing you did last year that you are proud of?” I assumed it would be hard for women to answer but easy for men. WRONG. So far its stumped almost anyone who has drawn it randomly from a bag of questions, including straight A students and those with solid careers.

And self care baffles people across the age and gender spectrum too. I’ve had to define it over and over, and it still falls flat and lifeless among the different groups engaging in conversation. It seems to be arrogant to talk about our successes publicly and embarrassing to explore the topic of looking after yourself. How long has this been the case in our North American culture? Has it been brewing for years or for decades?

I’m going to dig deeper into this subject. Does anyone have thoughts that they would be willing to share with me? My work is taking me in this direction. Personally, I am longing for radical self care, anchored by strength and pride in who I am and what I can do in this world.

My heart aches for meaningful connection and intentional conversation with other like-minded people, which is the birthplace of the literary salon. I have identified my own need to learn to love myself, exactly as I am, so I can in turn offer this gift to others, for we can only give from our own overflow and not from our deficit. I have much to discover on this topic of self care and pride. Who wants to be part of this with me?

A Season of Plenty

A Season of Plenty

I’m trying to believe that I’m in the right spot along my life’s path. Too often I waste energy and joy by convincing myself that I’m falling behind. I get online (likely my first mistake) and I start comparing my progress to someone else’s. This leads to a self-induced panic that boils down to one thing: scarcity.

I hate viewing success as a pie with a limited number of slices. This faulty perception breeds paranoia and an unhealthy drive to be better than someone else in order to get ahead. Either the world is an exciting place, full of abundant possibilities, or it’s not.

Why is it so tempting to lean toward scarcity as a worldview? It’s so small and limiting. Abundance is much bigger, wider and happier. My thoughts betray me when I long for them to set me free. As humans, we are not meant to stay cramped and afraid. We are creatures of infinite possibility, but why would we try out our wings if we believe we are going to fall to the ground?

a season of plentyProcess takes time. I’m convinced that the immediacy of the internet has given us outlandish expectations that everything we want is just a simple click away. Why wait for anything? As a culture, we’ve been sold a pack of lies about how entitled we are to success without actually working for it.

The natural world is about process and always has been. Our seasons last for months and you don’t get to skip ahead just because you want to. New growth takes time to unfold. Our modern on-demand world has set up impossible standards for us. We are looking for a shortcut to what we desire. Waiting and working hard feels like it’s for suckers, but it’s the only way there is. I’m recognizing that my perception is what needs to change.

I am on a path to something and so are you. It’s often slow and methodical. It winds on us with no advance warning. We follow our curiosity and sense of wonder to see where it will take us next. Roadblocks pop up and we must spend valuable time, money and resources finding a way around them. All of this matters and it’s all part of the journey. It’s our path to walk.

Comparing our road to another person’s is a waste of time. Our hard work is leading us where we want to go. The key is to disconnect from the fantasy of overnight success. No such thing exists. I have to believe that I am where I need to be. Perseverance is slow and long, but it gets us where we long to go. I’m choosing to see the world as abundant and optimistic, instead of scarce and competitive.

I’m on my journey and you are on yours. It will likely help us both to cheer each other on and hope that together we can accomplish more. I’ve done the small and cramped worldview, and it hasn’t given me good results. It’s time to open it up: to go deep and wide and bountiful; to move away from scarcity and into a season of plenty.

I Am Enough

I Am Enough

I made a list of things I wanted to let go of in 2016. At the top of the list was this: my deep-seated fear that I am not enough.

I had no idea when I wrote that how massive the reverberations would be in my psyche from the earthquake this would cause. We’re seven weeks in to this new year, and expressing a willingness to work on this hidden area of shame and being less-than has cratered my life.

The explosion is the worst. It blows all of your security and coping mechanisms apart. You are left with nothing safe or familiar. You feel naked, exposed, stupid, alienated. You think you cannot survive what just happened, but then something miraculous occurs: you do.

i am enoughGetting at wounds that feel primal takes a herculean effort at courage. We want to scatter, like rats or cockroaches, as soon as the light touches the poorly-healed scar. Our deepest and darkest secrets reside in these places. The pain is staggering, fresh, overwhelming. The first instinct is to run; to put as much distance as possible between you and the hurt, to throw everyone else off the scent by summoning every trick in our arsenal to show that we are the opposite of our greatest fear.

But if we don’t run, something remarkable happens to us and in us. We stare it down. In my case, I saw that over the course of my life, I’ve developed healthier skills that helped me face the anguish I’d been running from.

Just because I felt less-than doesn’t mean I am less-than. I could prove, to myself, that I am more successful than I’ve been allowing myself to take credit for. While staring into this stinking abyss of not being good enough, I saw that I already had what I needed to be happy, fulfilled and optimistic. It was already there. Now the task was to claim it, to hold it in my hand, to cease striving for someone else to give it to me and simply be enough exactly as I am in this moment.

It all had to fall to shit before I could see it clearly. I had to risk losing everything and everyone to see how much I already had. This one has been a muddy, long slog. No one else was responsible for my own sense of worth. This was on me. I had to feel the sting of the shame and the fear in order to stare it down and come out safely on the other side. And damn, was it a solitary and terrifying journey, but the other side is as wide open as the prairies.

I’m free in this new landscape. I own my choices, my value, my soul, my fresh belief that I am enough and always have been. But worrying about what came before is a fool’s errand and I’m done being foolish. I can only move on from here and live out of this place of truth and beauty, where forgiveness finally exists for myself as much as for anyone else.

It will be less lonely now, for I can choose whom to invite into this new reality – the one where I am enough, simply because I breathe, and not because I’m terrified to show you just how hard I’m working to prove my worth to you. Those days are gone and it all looks so different now.

Our inside reality determines how we experience everything. I’m not setting my value now in a hypothetical sense. This is finally real, part of my daily experience, and I’m not handing this gift to anyone now. It’s mine, I own it, and I’m going to treat it much better from this point forward.