It's February 5, which means that I've missed the whole New Year's Day Blog Post thing by a considerable margin—but I'm still going to do it, you know why? Because I actually have a new year's resolution this year. Like, a serious one. And I want to DOCUMENT it. And I want people to WITNESS it. And I want you to YELL AT ME ABOUT IT if you see me breaking it.
(Actually, don't. That'll probably stress me out. But if you are a super close friend and you want to take me out to coffee and buy me a donut and gently tell me you've noticed me breaking my new year's resolution, like, yeah, do that.)
So, okay. Here's my New Year's resolution for 2020:
This year, I am going to be brave. And (this 'and' is maybe the more important part because I suspect it should directly affect the aforementioned statement), I am going to stop saying—to myself and to other people—that I'm not brave.
I think I've been talking myself out of bravery. You know how, when you're a parent, you're careful about what you say about your kids in front of your kids? Because you understand that what you say about a kid in front of them shapes their perception of themselves and can either be a help or a hindrance as they grow up. Self-confidence goes a really long way, and you know it's your job to build into it. So why would I think that talking negatively about myself in front of myself(?) wouldn't negatively affect...myself?
I know this isn't a new concept—people have been rambling on about negative self-talk for ages—but I've actually been noticing it in my own life this year.
Every time someone asked me how I was feeling about my book or an upcoming event or whatever, my usual answer was, "I'm terrified," or, "It's really scary," or, "I'm so nervous." And I noticed myself really dwelling on that even when I was alone. I'd be brushing my teeth the morning of an interview and looking in the mirror and thinking, Why did I say yes to this? I'm terrible at public speaking and I'm so shy and I'm so afraid...
Basically the opposite of a motivation speech.
I don't know when this started! I used to be a brave person—kind of to a fault sometimes. I'm the same exact person who snuck into a journalism class once because they were running the media room at the Junos and I wanted to run the media room. And I did. I ran the media room! And I was not afraid. I'm the same exact person who had a weekly music segment on a little cable show. And I was not afraid! I'm the same exact person who walked around CMW with my little tape recorder asking for interviews and meeting new people—just for fun! And I! Was not! Afraid!
But I'm also the exact same person who, for all of 2019, was just basically Jello.
And I'm not saying that 2020 is the year I start climbing up on my bathroom vanity and shouting affirmations at my reflection—oh no, no, that's not happening—I'm just saying that I'm going to catch myself when I start talking about being a scaredy-cat, whether in conversation with another person or just in my own head, and I'm going to cut it out.
I'm thankful, actually, that I have another shot at this whole book release thing. I did it really poorly last time because I was so (whispers) afraid and I kind of cheated myself out of what could've been a fun experience. Like the Junos or the cable thing or CMW—those aren't, like, huge big deals to other people, but they're personal touchstones for me, tangible things for me to look back on when I wonder if I could be brave. I can be because I have been. And I will be!
Okay. That's my resolution. I resolve to do that.
(Actually, don't. That'll probably stress me out. But if you are a super close friend and you want to take me out to coffee and buy me a donut and gently tell me you've noticed me breaking my new year's resolution, like, yeah, do that.)
So, okay. Here's my New Year's resolution for 2020:
This year, I am going to be brave. And (this 'and' is maybe the more important part because I suspect it should directly affect the aforementioned statement), I am going to stop saying—to myself and to other people—that I'm not brave.
I think I've been talking myself out of bravery. You know how, when you're a parent, you're careful about what you say about your kids in front of your kids? Because you understand that what you say about a kid in front of them shapes their perception of themselves and can either be a help or a hindrance as they grow up. Self-confidence goes a really long way, and you know it's your job to build into it. So why would I think that talking negatively about myself in front of myself(?) wouldn't negatively affect...myself?
I know this isn't a new concept—people have been rambling on about negative self-talk for ages—but I've actually been noticing it in my own life this year.
Every time someone asked me how I was feeling about my book or an upcoming event or whatever, my usual answer was, "I'm terrified," or, "It's really scary," or, "I'm so nervous." And I noticed myself really dwelling on that even when I was alone. I'd be brushing my teeth the morning of an interview and looking in the mirror and thinking, Why did I say yes to this? I'm terrible at public speaking and I'm so shy and I'm so afraid...
Basically the opposite of a motivation speech.
I don't know when this started! I used to be a brave person—kind of to a fault sometimes. I'm the same exact person who snuck into a journalism class once because they were running the media room at the Junos and I wanted to run the media room. And I did. I ran the media room! And I was not afraid. I'm the same exact person who had a weekly music segment on a little cable show. And I was not afraid! I'm the same exact person who walked around CMW with my little tape recorder asking for interviews and meeting new people—just for fun! And I! Was not! Afraid!
But I'm also the exact same person who, for all of 2019, was just basically Jello.
And I'm not saying that 2020 is the year I start climbing up on my bathroom vanity and shouting affirmations at my reflection—oh no, no, that's not happening—I'm just saying that I'm going to catch myself when I start talking about being a scaredy-cat, whether in conversation with another person or just in my own head, and I'm going to cut it out.
I'm thankful, actually, that I have another shot at this whole book release thing. I did it really poorly last time because I was so (whispers) afraid and I kind of cheated myself out of what could've been a fun experience. Like the Junos or the cable thing or CMW—those aren't, like, huge big deals to other people, but they're personal touchstones for me, tangible things for me to look back on when I wonder if I could be brave. I can be because I have been. And I will be!
Okay. That's my resolution. I resolve to do that.
2 comments:
GO FORTH AND BE BRAVE. I am trying to be that, too, in 2020. We can do it. I believe in us.
Ashlee! I didn't see this comment until now, but now it feels EXTRA applicable...
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