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I was a little reticent to put up the last post. It can be so easy to say,”Well, yeah, you can do X, look at all the stuff on that list. You’re obviously so much more Y than I am.” Maybe, maybe not.
I may have something you don’t, though. Blog archives.
When I do something that I’m proud of having accomplished, especially related to being shy/HSP/introverted, I usually write about it and post it here, with the hope that you will read it and get something out of it. Preferably inspiration, but whatever.
You’ve Done Eeeeeeeeeeet!
Once you’ve accomplished something, unless it’s HUGE, it doesn’t stick in the forefront of your mind. It slips further and further back until it’s almost not there. And this can be a great motivator, this wanting to move on to the next great thing of yours, but when your’e feeling low, it’s a problem.
I’ve got an easy way to look back and see what I’ve done, which is good, because when I was writing that post, I didn’t remember everything. I had completely forgotten that I rode a horse after refusing for 20-odd years. I forgot about contract negotiation and the taxi driver too. annoying git
Anyway, if I can forget these things after having done them and then written about them, I can only imagine what non-blogcentric folks manage to forget, especially in a time of the I-can’ts.
Twofer
Truthfully this is a two birds, one stone kind of deal. When you write about something, you create a story, one you can tell when you’re first getting to know people (or later) and it’s already there for you to draw upon. Second, you’ve got a record for when you get hit by the I-can’ts.
Obviously, you can journal, in a notebook or on your computer, or
You can email yourself, using the subject line to create a smart folder for organizing, or…
You are awesome, I am sure of it. You’ve also done more than you can think of right now. I’m sure of that too. Keep track of your stories. They tell us who you are, but they tell you who you are too. Usually when you need it most.
How do you remember what you’ve accomplished?
Want to receive small comfort zone stretches and resource recommendations every couple of weeks? Sign up for Inching Along and I’ll send you one small (possibly even fun) challenge that you can easily accomplish plus other nuggets that I find.
We’re being open here, sharing and saying things we don’t always say out loud. What helps: Sharing your stories and Ideas. Cheering and telling what works/worked for you. What hurts: shoulds, harshness, and such. (I used to teach first grade, I can’t help it.)
Today, we’ve got an interview with Torre DeRoche, author of Swept, Love with a Chance of Drowning (af). I’ve been following Torre’s blog for a while now and when I found out a bout her book’s impending release, I knew I wanted to interview her for my dear caterpillars.
If you subscribe to Inching Along, you’ve seen the short review I did in the last issue, and I’ll be doing a longer review on here in about two weeks. I’ll say this right now, though: I read Swept straight through. I started reading on the couch, took it with me to supper, to the bath, and on to bed, staying up two hours past my bed time.
And now, our interview:
The Social Caterpillar: First, I’d like you to give us the thirty second version of your story.
Torre DeRoche: My story is about how I met a man in a bar when I was 24, and I found out on our second date that he’d been saving and planning to sail the world on his own small boat. I’ve had a fear of deep water as long as I can remember, so I thought he was kind of crazy, but I was drawn to his fearlessness. Despite my better judgement, I ended up falling in love, and when he was due to depart 8 months after we met in the bar, I found myself having to choose between facing my biggest fear and jumping aboard with him, or saying goodbye.
I decided to go for it.
My book is about facing fears. It’s a love story, and it takes place over two years in the South Pacific … until it all started to turn a bit pear shaped!
TSC: You’ve mentioned that you are an introvert, do you consider yourself shy and/or an HSP? If so, did that affect how you interacted with people you met along the way?
TD: I probably fit the HSP category, but I suffer from so many neurosis that I can’t keep track of them all! I am an introvert, and I’d also consider myself to be a bit shy. Yes, this did affect how I interacted with people while sailing. It’s obviously a very isolating sport and being an introvert is a good trait to have on a boat. But in the second year when everything started to go wrong, I found myself withdrawing and hiding out on the boat a lot, and this was probably the worst thing I could’ve done. Looking back, I should’ve spent more time with sailors and locals when I was feeling down, rather than giving in to that comforting desire to turn inwards. That said, I did make plenty of amazing friends. Connections formed really quickly out there, as we were sharing a very unique experience together.
TSC: One idea you touch on, pretty early on, is preparation. How do you know when is enough?
TD: If I prepared another sailboat for a voyage, I could easily select all the right equipment and stock the boat with supplies for the long passages. Experience teaches you how to prepare, but if you’re new to an adventure, how can you possibly know how to prepare for it? I read books, I talk to people who’ve done it, and I try to be realistic about real dangers vs. irrational fears. There’s always a risk that you’ll get caught out in a freak occurrence, but if you prepare for every possible worst-case scenario, you’re not really leaving the comfort of home. Adventure is about resourcefulness and being outside of your comfort zone, so feeling nervous and under-prepared is part of the challenge, which eventually leads to the accomplishment.
TSC: I noticed, a couple of times, that when you experienced one of the emotional valleys of travel, you were able to swing back up intentionally. How do you shift your focus so that you keep positive when things start (and continue) to go wrong?
TD: Usually by acknowledging that I’d made a choice to be there. If you resist where you are and you feel sorry for yourself, then you’ll have no power over your emotions. If I was down, I’d tell myself: you’re here, you’ve chosen this, appreciate it. I would focus on the beauty and I’d try to be present. Music was a big help too. On the boat, little things like a gourmet meal, a cold beer, or a hot shower were ecstasy. Life aboard is charged with emotions – you can go from perfect calm, to sheer terror in a matter of seconds. Sometimes, even music and beer can’t help you.
TSC: If there was one thing you could have done differently, in planning for self care on your trip, what would it have been?
TD: I would’ve loaded the boat with more foods from Trader Joe’s! In terms of my own health, I know I would’ve gained a lot from learning yoga and meditation before we left. It would’ve given me a mechanism to control my fear and anxiety, a way to stay fit, and a solution for boredom on the long sea passages. Aesthetically speaking, laser hair removal would’ve been a wise decision!
TSC: Now that you’ve done the huge-scary-thing, are other things not as scary as they would have been before? If so, like what?
TD: Yes, I feel capable of almost anything. It completely changed my attitude to life. I’ve been drawn to challenges for as long as I can remember, but before I sailed, I always stuck within the realm of my comfort zone by attempting things I was already good at.
Writing wasn’t something I felt confident with before attempting a book, but I figured: well, if I can sail an ocean, I can write a book too! That self-belief got me through it.
A large portion of any success is having the guts to leave the safety of the shore behind you. I’m much more willing to take daring leaps, and that has liberated me.
TSC: Knowing what you know now, if you had it to do over again, would you?
TD: Would I go back to that earlier time and place and get on that boat again? Yes. I gained so much from the experience and I would never want to go back and change what I did.
Would I go again now? I hope so. I’m still very drawn to the ocean, but it’s an intense lifestyle. I dream of it a lot, but I also love listening to wind and rain outside of my house and feeling safe and snug within the walls of my nest. You’re very vulnerable on the ocean, and it always feels like Russian Roulette. Still – it’s a captivating lifestyle.
TSC: Have you chosen your next adventure? Will there be one?
TD: Yes. I won’t give it away yet, but I can tell you that it won’t be on a boat this time!
If you’re curious about Swept, Love with a Chance of Drowning, you can see an excerpt and Torre’s got a giveaway, but today (10/29) is the last day, so hurry.
Have you been thinking about adding a few comfort zone stretching challenges to your life? Get those plus resources and other fun nuggets of info in your inbox every other week, sign up for Inching Along today.
We’re being open here, sharing and saying things we don’t always say out loud. What helps: Sharing your stories and Ideas. Cheering and telling what works/worked for you. What hurts: shoulds, harshness, and such. (I used to teach first grade, I can’t help it.)
We make ourselves vulnerable every time we put ourselves out there. Talking to strangers, going out on a date, sharing our art… It’s unnerving at best, but when it goes well, the feeling is amazing. And when it goes badly, it’s rarely as bad as we thought it might be.
Third Verse, Same as the First
I’ve been feeling like I’m a bit stuck in my routine. As hot as it was this summer, I just didn’t want to go out much. Of course, now I’m brimming with ideas of things I want to try: improv, singing lessons, stand up paddle boarding… to name a few.
But… I wanted something that isn’t such a dense time and emotional investment. Then Tori tweeted this:
and I went here and it was perfect. One sketch book, thirty-odd pages, plenty of time.
Risk v. Reward
I could participate in small chunks, but the final piece would be put on display. I’ve got some Am-I-Good-Enough monsters hanging out on the edges on this one, but for the time being, they’ve agreed to consider this an experiment.
It’s been years since I submitted anything for a show, so this is exciting from that perspective as well. Catherine has her Giddy to Terrified Ratio of 7:3 and I’m beginning to think that’s what excitement is, just the right combination of joy and fear.
Do you have a joy to fear ratio? What is it?
You’ve been wanting small comfort zone stretches? What a coincidence! I send one out every other week, along with resource recommendations and some other fun nuggets of info too. Sign up for Inching Along to get yours.
We’re being open here, sharing and saying things we don’t always say out loud. What helps: Sharing your stories and Ideas. Cheering and telling what works/worked for you. What hurts: shoulds, harshness, and such. (I used to teach first grade, I can’t help it.)
After having a conversation with Taryn in the comments on her blog, I realized that I had added a trick to my Trying Things bag and I never told you. It’s incredibly easy and super useful too.
I started doing this in Guatemala when I would walk through the square, with the park surrounded by vendors. Wonderful smells coming from all the goodies cooking, people calling to one another, stall after stall of beautiful fabrics intermixed with touristy tchotchkes.
So overwhelming.
I would walk through and not even slow down. When I got home, I always thought of how I *should* have stopped and bought a pastry or looked at some scarves, vowing to do so next time. Of course, next time, it was just as overwhelming as the last.
Lady’s Choice
So, I started practicing “If I were choosing to… I would”. Like this: If I were choosing to interact more with the vendors, I would stop and look at the jewelry table. I don’t have to *do* anything, just notice and think about my options. If the thing I would do sounds appealing, I can go ahead and do it, or not.
Since I’m distanced from the whole thing by the fact that it’s what I ‘would’ do, not what I have committed to doing, I can carry on, without doing a thing, no blame. It’s great. Also, it gives me practice at taking time to think in overwhelming situations.
What tricks do you use so frequently that you don’t even think about them anymore?
Have you been thinking about adding a few comfort zone stretching challenges to your life? Get those plus resources and other fun nuggets of info in your inbox every other week, sign up for Inching Along today.
We’re being open here, sharing and saying things we don’t always say out loud. What helps: Sharing your stories and Ideas. Cheering and telling what works/worked for you. What hurts: shoulds, harshness, and such. (I used to teach first grade, I can’t help it.)
What were the vegetables you would eat when you were a kid? Mine were cooked peas and corn, raw broccoli and carrots. That’s it. I was a picky eater, not as picky as some, but I definitely had (have) very specific ideas about what I liked and what I didn’t.
I wouldn’t go anywhere near cooked spinach, any other cooked greens, cooked carrots, cooked broccoli, tomatoes raw or cooked, radishes, beets, any kind of dried bean in any form, whole grains… you get the idea.
Fear Knows No Logic
And I was terrified of peppers. Bell peppers. No one could convince me that they were not hot. I quite simply would not put one in my mouth. Until I got to Sweden, where my first morning in language school, my host mother laid out a full Swedish breakfast for me.
Having been raised eating cold cereal and fruit with the occasional pancakes and eggs, I was a bit confused by the array of cheese wedges, sliced deli meats, soft rolls and hard tack, and… sliced bell peppers. In my jet lagged haze I just stared at the spread, so my host mother cut a roll in half, spread it with butter, sliced some cheese to put on top and then added two slices of bell pepper.
You Want Me to Eat What?
I had no idea what to do. I couldn’t eat hot peppers, especially not for breakfast, but I couldn’t refuse the food she had take such care to lay out and then make for me. So, I took the open faced breakfast sandwich and tentatively took a bite. Of course, the pepper was sweet and I haven’t looked back since.
I remained convinced that my food preferences from childhood were still the same, even with proof to the contrary. When I was 20 my mom convinced me to try black bean soup and I liked it. Of course, it was just that one thing, right? And it was, because that was all I allowed it to be.
Baby Steps, by way of Veggies
One by one I allowed new things into my diet, becoming proud of finding ways that I liked brussels sprouts and hummus. My palate continued to expand and I joined a CSA. Upon the first delivery, I was faced with a box filled with things I had no idea what to do with. Collard and mustard greens, yellow summer squash, zucchini, turnips, eggplant and fresh purple hulled peas.
Obviously I hand’t given the idea of what actually grows in North Texas much thought when I came up with the plan to join a CSA. Because that list up there, that’s what grows in the early spring. Tea in hand and one by one, I found recipes that I would eat, sausage soup with white beans and greens, herbed sauteed squash, zucchini bread, turnip and potato hash, baba ganoush, and a cow pea and vegetable soup.
I got to the point where I would say that the only things I wouldn’t eat were capers, olives and Ethiopian bread. My hatred of olives was so strong that when I was a child I would insist that the open jar of olives at the Thanksgiving table be moved away from me, due to the risk of an… untowards event. I was convinced I would puke. The olive bar at Whole Foods? I would hold my breath while walking past it.
Telling Stories, Again
But I started to wonder, what if I was wrong, what if the story I was telling myself about hating olives was no longer true? At the same time, I was still convinced that intentionally eating an olive would make me sick. Disgusting evil little things that they were.
And so, toes in the water I went. At a wine and cheese tasting I tried a soft goat cheese with olives in it. I couldn’t tell they were there. The same with an olive bread. Okay so ingesting olives in small quantities hidden in other foods wouldn’t cause instant death or even gagging.
Run Away, Run Away!
Earlier this year while I was at Rally! I shared a salad with Havi. It had black olives in it and I started to ask about having them on the side but decided to see what happened. Mostly, I ate around them, but at the end, I tried one. It was salty and while I wouldn’t actually go so far as to say that I liked it, I didn’t hate it either.
Huh.
So, I now have a couple of questions:
Are there maybe some olives in that massive olive bar at Whole Foods that I might actually like?
What other stories have I been telling myself for so long that I just believe them without question?
And, of course, a question or two for you: What are your ‘olives’? What stories do you tell yourself, that may not be true?
In the comments:
We’re being open here, sharing and saying things we don’t always say out loud. What helps: Sharing your stories and Ideas. Cheering and telling what works/worked for you. What hurts: shoulds, harshness, and such. (I used to teach first grade, I can’t help it.)
Are those lovely stories in your head preventing you from actually moving towards creating them as reality?
You know the ones:
Won’t it be great when…
I’ll be so happy once…
I can’t wait until…
Telling Stories
We get so caught up in the stories, we forget that we can bring them closer to fruition. The perfection of the future seems so far from the reality of the present that we continue doing what we have been doing, because we don’t feel capable of making the grand sweeping changes that would make that future story a reality.
And for the most part, we’re not capable of making, or at least sustaining those huge changes. All at once. Baby steps, inching along, it’s how you make it up a volcano and it’s how you make lasting life changes.
Right Here, Right Now
Where are you right now? Eating mostly fast food and freezer meals and suspecting that you feel pretty lethargic because of it? Okay. Where do you want to be? Eating all (or almost all) home cooked meals from whole ingredients? Okay.
Our usual inclination: Throw out all packaged foods and start fresh.
What we end up with: An empty pantry and a sense of panic.
Which causes us to: Go out and restock the pantry with packaged foods, and a combined sense of security and shame.
Or…
An Inching Along Option:
Find three breakfasts that you would be happy making and eating. This takes as long as it takes.
Buy the ingredients for one of them.
Make that one.
Make any adjustments you want/need to it.
Repeat 2-4 for the other three breakfasts.
Get into a routine with the breakfasts.
Repeat for snacks, then lunches and finally suppers.
While you’re making a new routine for snacks maybe you replace your burger in a bag lunch with a healthier soup, one that comes in a box, but you know what each ingredient actually *is*.
Or maybe you start by spending some time each day noticing how you feel after you eat. Paying special attention to what foods make you feel better or worse.
Small is Feasible
A little bit each day. Or not even each day. A little bit at a time, whatever that time is for you.
Of course, this doesn’t just apply to food, or even physical health. It goes for any lasting change you want to make.
Where am I now?
Where do I want to be?
What’s my first, smallest step I can take in that direction?
Repeat.
For the rest of your life.
Because that’s what this is, *your* life. You get to create it on your terms.
What’s one change you’ve been considering? What’s the first small step you can take to get there?
And if you want some help in working through your Where am I/Where do I want to be questions, when you sign up for Inching Along, you get a free In Bud Session.
You can’t always get what you want, but, if you try sometimes,well you just might find you get what you need. -Rolling Stones
I’m pretty good at getting what I want. I get into programs that I apply for, I find the right ways to get people do what I ask, I find work arounds for when the solution isn’t obvious.
But, usually, I’m clearly qualified for what I want to do. When I apply for a program, I’ve made sure to meet or exceed the requirements. When I’m making a request or suggesting a work around, I’ve done my research and have the details aligned to back up what I want to do.
Something to Say
Over the past year or so, I’ve been sitting with the idea of speaking, giving talks, maybe getting up on stage, you know, with a microphone and everything. I’m nervous, I don’t feel ready, and even just writing about it makes my arms all tingly.
More and more, I feel the need to give public speaking a real try. I may hate it, but I want to know that, for sure. Or… I may love it, though probably, the truth will be somewhere in the middle.
Sit, Stew, and Stir
In my own manner of circling the edges of an idea, I’ve been looking at Toastmasters for practice, and I’ve found a few to visit, but I haven’t gone yet. And, of course I’ve been looking at short talks like Ignite, Pecha Kucha, and 140 Conference. Right now, a TEDx seems like a reasonable, though far away goal.
With all my poking and planning and stewing, I completely overlooked another path: Online Conferences. I follow Introvert Entrepreneur on Facebook and there was a call for presenters in my feed. With a deadline two days away. Perfect, since it gave me just enough time to write and leave my words to sit overnight, but not enough time to overwork anything.
The Qualification Barrier
So, I started filling out the form for presentation submissions. And there were no qualifications. Now, please understand, I’m sure Beth Buelow has criteria for selection, but you did not have to have previous speaking experience, a certain level of education, a published book to your name…
There was nothing to let me say, ‘Well, I meet the minimum requirements, so, I know I’ve cleared the first cut’. I could only do my best and hope. And while I wanted to have the opportunity to speak at the Virtual Introvert Conference, I knew that really I had succeeded at my first step, putting myself in a position to be selected or not. I wrote my submission and pushed ‘send’, and in doing so, I took my first real step and that counted all on it’s own.
Bonus
A week later I received an email stating that while I had not been chosen to speak, Ms. Buelow would be interested in interviewing me for her Podcast, The Introvert Entrepreneur. An offer that was unlikely to have come otherwise.
And maybe that is my first step, speaking in response to questions, which itself brings up the idea of panels. More to sit with and stew on… There is no one right way. There is no failure. You try, you see what happens, you correct your course and try again. And sometimes there are bonuses. Mostly it’s a matter of how you define ‘success’.
Have you taken any small steps recently or tried for one thing and gotten something else?
If you’ve been following along the past few months, you’ve seen bits and pieces of what I’ve come to call my bus insanity. It’s not a very nice name, but it is what it felt like.
When I decided to move to Austin, I decided to go carless. Austin has Car2Go, buses, bike lanes and it’s pretty pedestrian friendly too. Downtown, there are also taxis and pedicabs. For longer trips there’s the train, car rental, and of course the airport.
Freak Out
Only, it turned out, I was freaked out by riding the bus. Well, that’s not exactly right. I was freaked out by the idea of doing it wrong. Yep, that again. See, there are so many tiny details involved in riding the bus and I *hate* doing things wrong. Even things that I would forgive of anyone else, or not even notice if anyone else did them.
And so, the chorus began:
Do I just stand at the bus stop?
Do I flag down the bus?
How do I pay?
What if the bus-ticket-machine-thing won’t take my money?
How will I know when my stop is coming up?
When do I ring for my stop?
How do I ring for my stop?
And then, the stress and accompanying fatigue and pain. Mercy.
Break it Down, Um… No
Usually, I would break it down into smaller steps. And I tried. I went on the bus with a friend. I watched people at bus stops as I was walking places. Only, there’s only so much you can break it down. Once you get on the bus, you eventually have to get off. Then you have to get home.
I finally realized that 1) I needed to have absolutely no other pressure on me that day. No plan to be anywhere specific and any particular point in time and 2) the only way to do that was block out a whole day for it.
You’ve Got Two Choices of What You Can Do
There are two ways to look at anything you are going to do. You can look at it a something you have to get through. Or, you can look at it as an adventure. I’m sure you can guess which one you are more likely to repeat once you’re done.
If I just rode the bus to the store and back (one ride, a half a mile each way), it would have been something I had managed to get through, something I could check of my list of having accomplished. It would have been unlikely that it would have much easier for me the next time.
So, I had a Bus Adventure Day. First, I went to the yarn store, which, for me is wonderfully comforting. One bus east and a transfer south. Of course, I missed my stop by one, I think. I’m still not real good at reading where I need to stop on the map on my phone, but I have since discovered that the list style directions give the cross streets for the stop.
Cranky Pants and Gingerbread Pancakes
There had been some people on the second bus who were cranky and being rather loud about it and that kind of threw me for a bit. So, I went to a cafe and had breakfast in the afternoon, a treat of gingerbread pancakes, fruit, bacon and tea. If I had been getting through my bus difficulties, I wouldn’t have stopped because it would have just added more time, but since it was an adventure: Afternoon Breakfast!
On to the megastore. While I’m not a fan of megastores, they are the only places I know where you can buy recycling bags for the city pickup. When I got to my stop, there was a man singing and dancing and clapping. I’m still not sure if he was off his meds, on somebody else’s, or just enjoying himself without caring what anyone else thought.
Confuddled Won’t Kill You Either
I got confused on this one and got off the bus one stop too early, which wouldn’t have been too bad, only it was about 100º F, so, it was kind of icky. Also worth mentioning, I need to get a water bottle. It’s too freaking hot in this state to wander around waterless, it’s dangerous and also, pointless.
On the way home I managed to miss a stop which meant I had to run to catch the next bus. Also, the talking people, they have made me decide to start wearing earbuds from now on. I really don’t wish to have another conversation about enemies. Especially ones who are imagined. Um, yeah. That.
The Truth About Adventures
Things I know about adventures:
1) Things will go wrong.
2) It doesn’t matter when things go wrong, since it’s all part of the adventure.
Riding a bus isn’t much of an adventure for most people, but it worked perfectly for me.
Is there anything you would like to turn into an adventure, or maybe already have? Please share in the comments, I’d love to hear about it.
Looking to stretch your comfort zone in tiny ways and pick up some resource recommendations? Sign up for Inching Along, and every other week I’ll send you one small (possibly even fun) challenge that you can easily accomplish plus other nuggets that I find.
We’re being open here, sharing and saying things we don’t always say out loud. What helps: Sharing your stories and Ideas. Cheering and telling what works/worked for you. What hurts: shoulds, harshness, and such. (I used to teach first grade, I can’t help it.)
I really wanted to call this post Glitter and Blood, but, really, I it was only a few drops. You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? Right, starting at the beginning, then.
The Beginning
So, as most of you know, for my 34th birthday, I bought a costume that would allow me to ride on a float in the Carnival Parade in Rio de Janeiro. On Saturday I went to pick up my costume, but it hadn’t been delivered to the company I had ordered it from. In the five hours I waited before they told me that, I met some awesome women who were dancing with the same school I was, one New Yorker from Oklahoma (Jen) and two Swedes (Ulrica and Anna) who share my middle name (Theresa).
Twenty six hours later, they arrived with our costumes, sort of. You see, we had ordered finely crafted Carnival bikinis with feather headdresses and collars, ornate gloves and boots. They brought us serged squares of nylon with scraps of fabric as straps and ties, gold lame hooker boots and a bird’s nest cap with a mohawk of feathers, all adorned with craft store leaves, attached with hot glue. Right.
Choosing to Have Fun
While the quality was craptacular, the ultimate issue was do we choose to be pissed off or go and try to have fun. We chose to go, since we had all traveled to Brazil specifically for the parade. After Ulrica told them precisely how ashamed they should be for calling that a Carnival costume, she made them take us to the Sambadrome by taxi and then walk us to our floats, as Jen was on a different one than the rest of us.
After changing our clothes on the side of the freeway in that way that only women know how to do, we waited. People came up and asked to have their pictures taken with us, since we were with Mangueira, one of the most respected schools in the parade. Not that you would know it from the way they handled the costumes or even the floats this year.
Up, Up, and a Wait
We climbed on our float, (note: I do not recommend combining five inch platform boots and scaling a ladder made of scraps of left over wood) and were told to find the spots we wanted. We found three together and the guy helped Ulrica on to her platform and left. So, we waited. Again.
During the intervening four hours we tried to get someone to help us up or at least bring us the ladder, but no. Then, as we pull up to the entrance to the Sambadrome, they suddenly realize that no one is at the top of the float and a dozen men swarm the float and try to get us to climb the float itself to get to the platforms. In our boots.
Right.
So, up the ladder, I went, while a man held it in place. Only, when I got to the top of the ladder, there was nothing to hold on to and I didn’t have any leverage to hoist myself up onto the platform. One man grabbed one hand and another grabbed the other, dragging me up, but since my knees weren’t clear of the platform I got a bit bruised and scratched up in the process.
It was Just a Bit of Blood
With one knee bleeding I made my way over to the other side and found an empty platform. Soon, we were off, lurching along with the platforms swaying as we went. And with my elevated adrenaline level following close behind.
As the platform swayed and my legs wobbled, at first all I could do was manage to stay upright. You see, I’m almost all leg, and when you add the five inches of boot to my original 5’8” you (I) get a rather high center of gravity. I also got a bit of a pole to grab onto for balance, only it was so short I had to grab it with the tips of my fingers. Not highly effective for managing balance.
We danced and sang and I kept an eye on where the ground dancers in front of us stopped so that I could brace myself for our next lurching halt. While I smiled and looked out into the audience, I would occasionally see people trying to get me to be more enthusiastic, but since my choice was showing enthusiasm or remaining vertical, I chose vertical.
The End
I knew I wanted to be in Carnival to see if I could do it. And I gave myself permission to stop at any point. I could in fact walk away, whenever I chose. And for me, having that freedom made continuing that much easier. Also, buy the time the parade started, I was so irritated with Manguiera, I did not care at all what anyone thought. So freeing.
While, obviously this was a big one, we have opportunities to see what we are able to do, all the time. Can you correct the waiter when he brings out the wrong order, can you stand up to ask your question at the next conference you attend, can you write a letter to the editor and send it in? What is something you would love to know if you can do? I really want to know, please tell me in the comments.
Looking to stretch your comfort zone in tiny ways and pick up some resource recommendations? Sign up for Inching Along, and every other week I’ll send you one small (possibly even fun) challenge that you can easily accomplish plus other nuggets that I find.
In the comments: We’re being open here, sharing and saying things we don’t always say out loud. What helps: Sharing your stories and Ideas. Cheering and telling what works/worked for you. What hurts: shoulds, harshness, and such. (I used to teach first grade, I can’t help it.)
I haven’t said anything on here because it feels like, the more I talk about something, the less likely I am to follow through on it. Like, there’s a point where having talked about it so much is like having experienced it.
But, as wound up as I am and with less than a week to go, either I’m going to go or not. One post won’t make or break my resolve. I’ve signed up to be on a float in the Carnaval Parade in Rio.
That’s why I’m memorizing a song in Portuguese, a language I barely know.
That’s why I’m futzing about tan lines, something I can assure you has never happened before. Ever.
That’s why I keep wanting to hide further and further inside, away from all the people who come out for the neighborhood parades.
Will I or Won’t I?
Truthfully, I have no idea if I’ll really be able to get up there and be on the float. But I have to try, for me. You see, this year, my birthday falls during Carnaval. The day after I plan to ride around the Sambadrome in an outfit that looks remarkably like a pair of skivvies with a headdress, I will turn 34.
I took it as a sign… the timing, not the costume. And let’s be honest, I wanted to take it as a sign. If I can muster the intestinal fortitude to be *in* Carnaval, then I can pull off just about anything. Anywhere. Ever. A true test of knowing that something is more important than the fear.
Tuesday Will Get Here, No Matter What
When I had to make presentations in high school, I would get physically ill. Like, running to the bathroom ill. And every time I would think of the presentation, my stomach would drop. I was too scared to prepare, thereby creating my own worst nightmare. Then I had a realization.
Tuesday will get here, no matter what I do. I started saying that because the presentation I had coming up was on a Tuesday, and I still say it that way. And if Tuesday is going to keep coming, then I might as well do my best to prepare so that I can do my best once it’s Tuesday.
No Place to Hide
When we think about the things that make us nervous, we want to hide. And while hiding can be easy, it mostly doesn’t help. So, now, when I get nervous, I listen to the song while reading my transliteration of it. Transcribing it into pronouncable chunks was my first baby step, then just listening, now practicing.
And, you wanna know what? I’m getting it! Which is good since my parade day is Sunday. Truthfully, I think I can do this. And most days, I feel I can do it too. When I start to feel scared or even, just nervous, I start playing the song and it reminds me that I know more than I think I do. And that preparation is the best way to ground myself in the now and be able to move forward, one samba step at a time.
Since I really want to know, I’ll ask you again,
What do you do when the fear hits?
Looking to stretch your comfort zone in tiny ways and pick up some resource recommendations? Sign up for Inching Along, and every other week I’ll send you one small (possibly even fun) challenge that you can easily accomplish plus other nuggets that I find.
We’re being open here, sharing and saying things we don’t always say out loud. What helps: Sharing your stories and Ideas. Cheering and telling what works/worked for you. What hurts: shoulds, harshness, and such. (I used to teach first grade, I can’t help it.)
