fear – Emily Downward

The Fear and Thrill of Trying Something New

August 6, 2015August 6, 2015emilydownward

I’m often encouraging my clients to do things that are a bit scary or out of their comfort zone, in order to help them achieve the goal or feeling they want to create. We all get stuck in ruts, doing things and thinking the same way day after day until something causes us to change. Sometimes we initiate the change because we realize the way we’ve been doing things is no longer working for us. And other times we choose to do something different just to shake things up a bit!

As a Martha Beck certified master life coach, I strive to work and live in accordance with the core values from Martha. The first one is “Live it to give it.” To me, this means using the tools and methods I recommend to my clients on my own challenges and areas I want to improve.

I recently did a big shake up, doing something I’ve never done before: stand-up comedy. A friend of mine provided the opportunity and encouragement, renting a club for an evening and inviting me to do a sketch. I knew I had some funny material from some really bad dates (which I find make great stories!), but I had never done stand-up. I’m not one for tons of research, but I watched some videos of my favorite comedians and noticed how they put things together. The set up, the timing, the punch line, and of course, the delivery, are each critical. I wrote out my ideas, and I read through them to three different friends, making adjustments each time after I saw where the stories lagged or where people laughed or didn’t.

I was SO NERVOUS! I did what I could to make it easier on myself: In addition to my research and practice, I had written out a couple of note cards with key phrases to remind me of each story and joke, so I didn’t put the extra pressure of memorizing it on myself. I wore a black top purposefully, in case I sweated profusely due to nerves. And I invited a couple of friends for support.

As with most things, I comfort myself in what might seem like a strange way. I imagine the worst that could happen, and get my brain thinking through how I would survive or cope with that. For this particular scenario, I imagined 1) they might not laugh, 2) I could get booed off the stage, 3) I could offend someone who doesn’t like my style of humor, 4) I would embarrass myself. Actually thinking through these makes it seem less scary to me. It’s something about putting words to the fear that makes it seem less daunting or all-consuming. I decided I could live through any of these worst-case scenarios – just a bit of a bruised ego to risk – and with all the preparation behind me, the only thing left to do was leap.

Last Saturday, it was show time.

I’m thrilled to say it went well. (You can watch it here. Note: Does include some profanity, so not for children.) And as I left the stage to applause and laughter, I experienced a massive adrenalin rush. It was incredible, and although my hands were shaking more than I’ve ever seen, it felt better than any rollercoaster or other thrill ride I’ve experienced.

There’s something about trying something new, pushing yourself to the edge, risking a bit, that has incredible rewards. Regardless of the outcome, you learn something from the experience.

What has life been tempting you to do differently? What small, or large, risk can you take today towards living the life you want?

The Messy Side of Becoming

June 12, 2013emilydownward

[My lovely teacher Martha Beck developed the Cycle of Change model that describes the process we go through with any major change. It begins with Square One: Death & Rebirth. I’ve been experiencing a lot of major change this year and getting intimately familiar with Square One. I thought I’d share my experience in hopes it sheds a little light for someone else.]

I think what’s so hard about Square 1 is the Death part. I have some friends who beautifully model a graceful embracing of death and dying. I value that quality and thought I was making strides towards that, but there’s this petulant part of me that is more like child that doesn’t want to go to sleep and miss something. I cling to who I once was, or what I thought I was, or, more aptly, my old way of thinking. The kicker is, even if I didn’t really completely like everything about who I once was, I still cling to it all just because of its familiarity, rather than seeing this as an opportunity to jettison those parts that weren’t working and create something new that fits better.

Logically, I know that death is a part of life, and that it’s the natural order and cycle of things. But emotionally, I struggle with the grief, fear, sadness, and anger. I fear the feelings will be permanent, so I resist them (thereby prolonging them, ironically). I try to mask my feelings, pretending everything’s fine, which takes so much more energy and creates dissonance inside me as my heart yearns to speak the truth. I dip my toe into the feelings and feel nearly overwhelmed by the undertow, so I quickly jump back on to the shore of resistance. There I am, clinging to the sand as the waves are sweeping it out of my clenched fists anyway. It’s painful to hold on, but I’m more afraid of letting go. But at some point, the pain gets to be too much, and I feel like quitting, giving up. “What’s the point of it all?” I feel like screaming.

Still petulant, I say to the Universe, “Fine! I give up!” and I let go. I let go of everything. I let go of my ideas and my dreams of who I thought I was and what I wanted so badly, and I let go of the pain of trying to be okay. I fall into the depths of my emotion. Falling, falling, I relax and let it carry me down. But then, I’m not down. There’s peace. Glorious peace that feels like a balm of contentment. Having finally let go, I can see new possibilities. I have so many more options than just the one I was clinging to. And I don’t have to let go of my dreams, it’s just the plans I had to get there that have changed.

I can see light again, the calm after the storm. And it feels so sweet. Still scary, as I navigate new territory that I haven’t been through before. I feel as vulnerable as a crab that’s just outgrown its shell, having split the old shelter and crawled my way out, I find that my new self is tender and exposed. But also hopeful. And I know the contrast between the storm and the peaceful aftermath are what make it so sweet, even though I wish I could bypass the storm altogether. (Maybe next time? Nah, probably not.)

Facing your Fears

April 18, 2012emilydownward

What are you most afraid of? What about it scares you?

One of my fears is the fear of heights. Even watching a television show or movie where the actor is precariously perched on a high ledge or walking a tightrope makes my palms begin to sweat. (In fact, my palms just got a little sweaty even writing that!)

I wasn’t always afraid of heights…when I was 8 years old, we lived in St. Louis. I visited the Arch several times. On one visit, after riding the rickety elevator up to the top with my dad, I climbed up to the little window and leaned my head up against it.

“Look, Daddy! If you lean way over you can see the bottom of the Arch!”

My dad didn’t join me in my discovery. It was enough for him just to hear me say it!

I’ve learned that babies are born with just two fears: the fear of loud noises and the fear of falling. All other fears are learned. So whether I learned my fear of heights from falling out of a tree or from my dad warning me not to get too close to the edge of a platform, I learned it. It’s not a bad fear, as fears go. I can see how it can be protective.

However, I am also very stubborn. I don’t like to be held back by things, and I don’t like chickening out of a good challenge. So several years ago, when my team at work when out to a ropes course, I tried everything. Most of the exercises were “team building” — different activities to get us to work together and succeed as a team. But one of the final, optional exercises was individual. I volunteered.

The goal was to climb up a telephone pole (standard height, which is WAY high). Once you reached the top, you had to stand on top of it. (FYI, telephone poles aren’t that wide, so my size 9 feet were hanging off both the front and back a little.) Hold on…have to wipe my palms….okay, so once you’re standing at the top of this pole, you have to jump and grab a trapeze bar. It’s not close. You really have to push and jump for it.

It took me several minutes to get to the standing position. And then I had to contemplate and really screw up every vestige of courage I had, and then plan a bit more. Finally, I jumped with all my might and reached for the bar.

My fingers JUST touched the bar, and I saw the bar swing out of reach as I felt myself falling. I began screaming.

Now, yes, they did have all the safety gear on me, and although I felt the falling, I didn’t hit the ground like a sack of flour. They eased me down. But by that time, I was hysterical. Crying. Gulping for air. Repeating, “I missed the bar! I missed the bar! I missed the bar!”

My coworkers tried to reassure me, telling me I was safe.

Oh, God. My coworkers are seeing me go absolutely crazy hysterical.

I was in full fight-or-flight mode, though, and there was no graceful way out.

Looking back at it now, it’s certainly not one of my finer moments. Not nearly as sweet as my triumph at finishing the triathlon, family and friends (and strangers) cheering me on as I cross the finish line. But it taught me nearly as much as completing that tri did. From this hellish telephone pole experience I learned:

1. I shouldn’t pursue work as a telephone repair person. I also probably shouldn’t try for a job in a trapeze act.

2. I didn’t die. While I FELT like I was going to several times (at the top of the pole, just missing the trapeze bar, falling, and even riding the panic attack on the ground), I didn’t. Our brains are really good at catastrophizing — imagining the worst outcomes — but they are just as capable of opportunity mining. We just have to focus our incredibly powerful brains in that direction.

3. I have courage. Maybe even more than I thought I did. I’m glad I tested it, because knowing I did this crazy stunt (or attempted to), I was better able to make other leaps, to different jobs, to different cities, to new relationships.

So, I wonder, what are you afraid of? Where in your life do you need to make a leap?

(And no, that picture isn’t of me. Although someone WAS taking pictures that day, I have completely forgotten where I stashed them.)