I’m someone who spends a lot of my time in my head. I often find myself practicing conversations in my head before I say something out loud. Or if I’m about to do something new or go somewhere new I meticulously plan how it’s going to go. Which is fine until it doesn’t go that way: Until the person I’m speaking with says something unexpected, until the event doesn’t go like I’d planned in my head, then I’m faced with the conundrum of what happens next. 

I’m also one of those people who, after saying something even slightly wrong, finds myself awake at night replaying the conversation over and over in my head. (It’s very much like this Flo & Joan song in there.) I’ve been known to recreate conversations from ten years ago with all of the things I should have said back then. 

Basically, the idea of being a fool or even being seen as a fool is high on my DO NOT WANT list. 

But I also love to learn. And I want to keep growing. And I want to show up in the ways that count for my community. And it turns out, learning, growing, and showing up usually means that you’re going to look (or at least feel) like a fool sometimes. 

If I learn something new, I’m probably going to be bad at it at first. Stumble over things. Appear kind of clunky.

If I continue to grow and show up I’m probably going to say or do the wrong thing. Or show up in the wrong way. Or do something that doesn’t work. 

The goal isn’t perfection, it’s reacting well to the correction. It’s getting up and trying again once I’ve tripped. It’s being embarrassed and continuing to show up. It’s showing up even if I don’t entirely know what’s going to happen or what will be expected of me. It’s volunteering even if I don’t quite know how to do what’s being asked.

It’s being willing to feel uncomfortable, to maybe look foolish, to be vulnerable enough to get it wrong (and to stay in it even after I do). 

It’s also learning to do my own self-regulation. To take seriously the practices that help me to remain grounded (for me that’s journaling, meditation, connecting with trusted friends and advisors, and having enough time alone). When I feel off kilter or embarrassed I take it to my trusted advisors or to the pages of my journal. I breathe deeply. I make sure I have time to process and integrate the new things I’ve learned. 

If I want to show up in solidarity for other people I’m going to need to be humble enough to admit what I don’t know, vulnerable enough to get it wrong and keep showing up anyway, and willing to let others take the lead and tell me what they need. 

It’s hard work, it’s uncomfortable work, but it’s worth it.