Expunge

A humiliating public speaking nightmare became reality for me during my first-ever presentation on a conference call that’s usually attended by about 90 of my peers.  In an attempt to tailor my talking points to my audience, I made some last minutes changes and ended up losing track in the middle of my very organized script. Stumbling over my words led to a deadly silence that felt like an eternity, followed by more time struggling to get back on track. My face was beet red.  My heart was sick.  This was a moment in the sun for me and I felt burned to a crisp.

Ouch!

Moving beyond an awkward misstep is never easy.  Our first inclination is to want to make the whole thing disappear.  We magnify what went wrong and overlook what went right.  I am particularly adept at beating myself up and throwing the baby out with the bathwater. While I can console and grant others grace, I have trouble applying that practice to myself.

There’s a good chance we’ll falter when we reach for something new.  It’s this risk that prevents many of us from chasing our dreams. 

But there is a really liberating aspect. Mistakes are on the agenda. No one expects you to be able to write a Grammy-winning song the first day you show up for guitar lessons.  Nor complete a marathon the first time your feet hit the pavement. So you give it your best shot and build on the experience. 

The beauty of learning from mistakes is twofold.  Identifying what to do differently next time is helpful in terms of perfecting your skill.  And there is the added benefit of taking your mind off your bruised ego.  The sting is not so fierce when you’re focused on some constructive action you can harness for next time.

It helps to get some perspective, too.  When I mentioned my blunder to a friend who had been on the call, she looked at me wide-eyed, saying she hadn’t noticed.  The skeptic in me thought maybe she was just being nice, but I trust she would not have been able to hide her empathy if I had been truly awful.  Knowing I don’t need to walk around with a paper bag over my head makes it easier to put it behind me.

How you recover from your mistake says more about you than the mistake itself.  Pick yourself up quickly.  Brush off the dirt. Smile.  If tears are going to flow, tell yourself you’ll save them for the car. You’ll at least make it to the parking lot. 

Pay it forward.  You’ll master the skill in time, and likely encounter someone in the future who will be sitting in the shoes you’re in now.  You’ll be able to connect in a really personal way by sharing your story in the form of coaching or comfort to another who will welcome your wisdom.  And while it seems implausible in the moment, you will find humor down the road.

As for me, I’ve talked with a mentor about where I went wrong and found another outlet to practice my presentation skills. Now I’m hoping time will work its magic as it does in the aftermath of childbirth:  A merciful erasure of all recollection of pain leaving me eager to do it again. 

If we’re going to reach our dreams, we need to get out of our safe places and stretch beyond the comfort zone. Getting to the big goals won’t be without challenges.  Think of failures as opportunities to hone your skills, not obstacles, and stay proudly on the path to where you want to go. 

Verve

Nate and I are participating in a super cool art exhibit this year.  It’s called The Sketchbook Project (you can read all about it via the Art House Co-op link adjacent to this post).  Our books are on exhibit right now in New York, the first stop and eventual permanent home after the 2012 tour.

We have been excitedly anticipating this since we submitted our sketchbooks at the end of January, and Nate decided we should not share our creations with each other until they arrive in Chicago next month. 

Friday he received a text message alerting him that “diana m” had checked out his book in Brooklyn!  Of course, when he let me know this I gushed with mom-excitement.  He tried to brush it off as no big deal, but just the hint of a self-satisfied smile crossed his face, especially when I lamented, green with envy, that mine was probably gathering dust in an unexplored corner of the library.

While I am anxiously awaiting the text announcing my maiden viewing, I can’t help but be thrilled his came first. What a great experience for him to own outright. There is nothing more exhilarating and motivating for an artist than the affirmation that comes with putting your work out there.  In that moment his art became infinitely real for him; the validation he needs to confidently call himself an artist.  How cool is that?

Trepidation

Dating is one of the places I want to go. It made the top five on my atlas this year because it’s becoming increasingly evident to me that we don’t get where we want to go without some focused effort. 

I’ve been leaving it up to chance, expecting the man of my dreams to drop into my lap without any attempt on my part to make it happen, and shockingly, he hasn’t arrived.  Maybe I need a new plan? 

Today marks the fifth anniversary of my divorce.  I don’t know what I expected for myself on this milestone, but I’m certain I didn’t expect to be stuck on the starting block.  When I look at the situation, though, my results are commensurate with the effort I’ve put in:  Zero effort = Zero dates.

I have no excuses for my apathy.  Only that I am afraid. 

I thought I was doing a good job of hiding my apprehension, but it is pervasive in ways I never imagined.  A friend recently recounted her experience observing me from a distance at a school function. In her words, nothing I was giving off in my stance or mannerisms made her feel like I was approachable.  Yikes!  I have some work to do.

This is more complicated than a flawed theory of attraction; this is about me allowing fear to sabotage my desires.

So now I’m brooding over the unparalleled power of this emotion.  What is the antidote for its paralyzing effects?  And how do we keep it from getting in the way of what we want?

The obvious answer lies simply in being able to say we are afraid. Naming fear is powerful.  Just being able to articulate what it is that scares us lets us take control of the situation.  I am afraid of things like rejection and the probability of a fast-moving relationship that may leave me feeling pressured to commit. I also worry I’ll yield to the old behaviors of my marriage watching the real me erode away while trying to please someone else.

We can begin to suppress fear by looking for the aspects of the situation that we can control.  In my case I can control how I handle rejection, accepting that it is part of dating and it doesn’t mean I am unlovable.  I can control if and when I commit to someone.  I can be aware of my propensity to put the needs of others ahead of mine and keep my dreams front and center.  I can remind myself I do not have to settle for someone who expects me to be anyone but me.

Now it’s a matter of taking a small risk. I’ve started letting people know I’m open to dating.  It’s a baby step, for sure, but maybe the next time a friend meets a great single guy I’ll come to mind. And I’m paying attention to how I present myself in social situations.

Celebrate when risk pays off, and be kind to yourself if it doesn’t.  We never move forward as quickly when we are timid or tentative as we do when we’re comfortable and confident.  Try to be patient.

Fear stops us in our tracks.  You won’t get around it until the desire for your goal trumps your terror.  If you suspect you’re hiding behind excuses to mask your demons, ask yourself what’s causing your angst and answer honestly. 

Share your fears with a friend; just talking has an amazingly quelling affect. Maybe you’re tempted to hold it all inside, thinking your worries are silly or embarrassing?  You are not alone.  We can all relate:  Everyone is afraid of something.  

Conundrum

One of my mentors in what I’ve come to call my child-raising network offered some insight the other day around challenges my 13 year-old is facing.  My son had shared with him this interesting perspective: “. . .just met someone I don’t like, guess my life’s about to get s#%*&y!” 

As I consider the counsel I’ll provide on this subject, I can’t help but relate to it.  Haven’t we all been put in situations with people we’re not particularly fond of and let them take us down a poisonous path?

I like to tell my kids to surround themselves with people who are happy, make them feel good and help them to be better people.  A positive attitude is contagious and we can’t help but absorb the enthusiasm exuded by those we like and admire. But we all know we don’t always get that choice.  Some people become part of our lives through no decision of our own and if we don’t hit it off we need to find ways to continue to stay positive and move forward. 

As adults, I like to think we have a little more control over this, but in the era of social media, I have to admit I’m confused.  We’re invited to “link in” and “friend” people, with an option to accept or decline. But who hasn’t received an invitation that was cause for question?   Do we really get to choose the people in our networks?    

It helps to define for ourselves what we want to get out of social media.  I am big believer in cultivating networks that align with my interests and get me where I want to go.  Whether the goal is to raise fine young men, go on a date or publish a piece of writing, the people in my life are both the vehicle and capital to make things happen. I carefully select people I trust, admire and enjoy.  After all my dreams are precious cargo and I’m making myself vulnerable to achieve them. 

But not everyone sets the same criteria for social networking. This is the dilemma. There is no litmus test for accepting invitations.   Should my connections be people I can attest to, would recommend a friend date or entrust with my children, or are they no more than acquaintances I’ve encountered somewhere along the line?    

The quality of the relationship is important to me. Our social media connections are very public.  There’s a part of me that believes my connections are a reflection on me. I’m not sure how accepting every invite I receive achieves my purpose and I don’t know the repercussions of refusal.

The jury is still out on this one for me.  How do you use social media?

Postscript – Today’s blog title is courtesy of my 13 year-old son.  We’ve started a word wall to capture cool words for the blog.  Thanks honey, I love this one!

Eponymous

A friend who’s known me since I was 19 asked last week if I planned to start using my maiden name again.  He says it is much cooler than the moniker I took on with my marriage, an opinion I share with him.  When I divorced my kids were little and I thought it would be easier for them; one less thing to worry about explaining amid a sea of awkward conversations.  For myself, I rationalized that I was at a point in my career where I was gaining traction in my networking with some name recognition.  It felt like one more place to start over that I didn’t need to tackle at the time.

My immediate response to his question was “it’s just a name”.  But I have to admit I’ve been contemplating a change lately. The journey to find myself has brought me back to square one.  It just feels right that my name should be there too.  

Our names are synonymous with our identity, defining who we are.  Our parents labor over choosing the right combination of first and middle, with careful consideration around how the two will look, sound and feel when combined with the fixed surname. Our name is the first gift we are given, beyond the obvious gift of life.

As I chart out the different places I want to take myself this year in pursuit of my goals, I find I’ve become hooked on the alias.  I brand my art with the three initials I was gifted at birth.  My penname is my maiden name.  I’ve chosen to author this blog under the name of the blog itself.

Why do we do this? 

For the creatives out there, names are our personal brand, both identifiers and symbols.  Choosing a pseudonym and combining it with graphics creates a vehicle to convey our mission, values and spirit.  Windlass, for instance, was chosen for several reasons:  It’s a nautical term fitting with my love for anything related to the sea. By definition in yourdictionary.com:  a winch, esp. a simple one for lifting an anchor, a bucket in a well, etc. It speaks to internal power, and as a verb, it is the very act of lifting.  I used two fonts in the logo to make the distinction between the “wind”, a zephyr that fuels us forward and the “lass”, for the girl in all of us. Punctuated by the imprint of a woman’s shoe which doubles as the sails of a boat and that anchor we can choose to lift at any time, it is the essence of my message around every woman’s power to drive her destiny.

There is a protective side to the a.k.a. that allows us to move forward while our ideas incubate and our confidence grows.  It creates a safe place to test the waters. Our passions are the genuine and the raw in us.  It’s scary to put them out there in a public way. An alias is a little bit like a suit of armor, shielding us from the hurt of rejection with an invisible degree of separation between us and our work.  

Will my disguises eventually be uncovered?  I hope so.  Right now, though, they are a little shot of courage propelling me to get to where I want to go. I can be Superman and still walk around in Clark Kent’s humble body.  Go ahead; embrace the liberation that comes with an alias.  It might be the key to igniting your dreams.

Meld

Today I read a provocative quote from Sheryl Sandberg, the COO at Facebook.  Her 2010 TEDWomen talk spread through those of us working in corporate America like a wild fire when she suggested women impede their own career advancement by not being fully in the game, citing an equal partner at home as a success factor for women who reach the top.  She is inspiring and her enthusiasm for empowering women is infectious:  Watch her here http://www.makers.com/sheryl-sandberg

What I’m pondering at the moment is this comment:  “The most important career choice you’ll make is who you marry.”

Wow!  If you’re in one of the many relationships that are not 50/50 partnerships enabling both people to pursue their dreams, you might be wondering if you married the right guy. You love him.  How do you tilt the scales?

Consider how you are approaching this topic.  Many of us are guilty, by default, of anchoring ourselves in the role of primary caretaker and owner of all things related to the home.  We can assume that part of it is simply love for our children and a desire to care for our families.  Part of it is a feeling that society tells us it should be like this.  And part of it is what we think others expect of us.  

But don’t assume this is what your spouse expects of you.

Accepting that we naturally lean toward the home front is helpful in and of its self. But you get to decide how much time you spend there. Think about what your ideal balance looks like and use it as the starting point.

Ask for what you want.  I don’t know why, but lots of us find it really hard to articulate desires that are solely our own.  We’re used to putting everyone else first, and it can seem almost selfish to put our own needs at the top of the list.  But you need to make this conversation happen.  Continually attempting to shoe horn your career or other interests around domestic responsibilities leads to frustration and contempt.  It’s the dry rot of marriages.   

Your guy is likely more supportive than you know.  Not too long ago I chatted with a colleague who was blue over his wife’s sadness when their daughter left the nest. A stay at home mom for 18 years, her whole purpose shifted and she was lost.  In a sweet gesture to engage her, he brought home a canoe, and then was genuinely surprised and disappointed when she didn’t want to join him in the water.  When I inquired if he asked her if she liked canoeing before investing in one, he smiled sheepishly and said no. I bet she’d tell him what she liked if he asked.

Don’t worry; you did marry the right guy.  He loves you and wants you to be happy.  Be brave.  Invite him in to your dreams.  Let him know where you want to go.  He’ll see your passion and want to help you get there.  And it might even spark some passion between the two of you.

Bask

My friend Kathy and I set out for what ended up being a 6 mile trail run last Saturday.  We chose one of our well-traveled paths, inevitably encountering the creek I always have trouble crossing.  I never enjoy water features as part of my running, but Kathy was excited for me this time because an unknown benefactor, seemingly aware of my plight, had constructed a make-shift bridge. There’s a steep incline on both ends, and of course I hesitated before leaping on to it.  Kathy coached me to pick up some speed and be confident.  Taking her advice, I made it safely across.  We both cheered.

Doesn’t seem like much does it?  But we all encounter obstacles on the way to reaching our goals. Too often we are so intent on getting to our destination; we don’t allow ourselves the joy of savoring the steps we take to get there.   

There’s something to be said for celebrating small victories.

Let’s face it; life is not about the end game.  It is a journey to be experienced and enjoyed as we go.  Saving up the celebrations doesn’t guarantee our desired outcome, nor does it make it any sweeter when we get there. 

When you’ve set your sights on a big dream, you need to break it into smaller pieces to reach it, sometimes for no other reason than you’re not sure what comes next.  The steps you take aren’t always pretty or graceful, but they get you closer to what you want.

Taking time out to recognize and appreciate achieving a milestone is often the respite and salve we need to keep plugging away in challenging situations.  The road to our most meaningful goals is a series of small steps that often feel risky, scary and larger than life.  Just because we’re not at the top of our mountain yet, doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the view half-way up.

We get to choose how we experience life. It’s rarely predictable, prescribed or perfunctory.  Take some time to enjoy, you’ll still get where you want to go.

Windlass

Women nest.  It’s been our purpose since the beginning of time.  The bond between mother and child is impermeable, indelible, infused. In fact, it could be argued that if women didn’t bond with their children, the species would be at risk for extinction. It needs to be this way.

Yes, the world has evolved.  Yet we women, whether we choose to have children or not, remain the dependable, stable anchors for our families, keeping everything running smoothly, while satellites in the form of loved ones orbit around us. Many of us revel in this role, and fill our days making others happy.

But are we making ourselves happy?

If the answer is no, it’s time to do something about it.  To quote one of my favorite poets, Mary Oliver, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

I believe it is noble and just to be devoted to our families and those we love, but not at the expense of ourselves. Shaping who we are around the perceived expectations of others is limiting, deflating, and an incredible waste of the unlimited potential inside each of us.

It’s time to think about where your passion lies, and map a course to get you there. Sure, it’s scary, but the rewards are worth it. My goal with this blog is to provide inspiration and ideas for action to get you where you want to go. 

We all have the power to lift our anchors and sail.