Some of you know that I launched on Kickstarter last month. The Dear Little Fish campaign is running right now, the days and hours and minutes ticking by like little heartbeats in my chest.
And this is what I want you to know about the whole Kickstarter business – it has me straddling the threshold of joy and absolute terror.
Can I say that? That I’m swamped with joy and I’m terrified?
It’s what happens when you put your whole self out there.
Which is what I’ve wanted to do my entire life.
But I was scared.
I mean scared in that deep I’m not enough so why should I even try kind of scared. I was scared with the fear of what I’ve named my “superlative anxiety” kind of scared. I wanted so much to be the kind of writer (Anne Sexton meets Malcom Gladwell meets Hunter S. Thompson) AND mother (you meets Aphrodite meets Mother Teresa) AND compassionate human (Nelson Mandela meets Buddha meets Mary Magdaline) that I never gave myself a break. I never felt like I lived up to my idols so I kept myself quiet.
It’s funny, I remember getting all steamy watching a particular cello player. He was not legendary. He lived in Salt Lake City, like me. But, God … watching him was like watching pure joy. He gave himself so fully to playing that I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He was brilliant and beautiful and all I wanted to do was to have him play cello forever. But for me, somehow, the rules weren’t the same. I had to get the big nod from some dead writer or some publisher whom I’d never contact because in my mind, I just wasn’t good enough yet.
This is what the Kickstarter has done for me. It’s forced me to confront the part of me that has “superlative anxiety,” and to kick its ass. This Kickstarter has helped me channel my inner Uma Thurman in Kill Bill. I am standing in my own banana yellow jumpsuit and I am kicking doubt’s ASS. All of the doubts. Every. Single. One.
And here’s the thing – I bet I’m not alone in battling the ninjas of self-doubt. And I’ll also bet that I’m not alone in having moments where I have conquered that doubt to put myself out there fully and completely.
I want to hear your stories. In 100 words or less, when have you put on that banana (or sea foam or bettie blue) jumpsuit and gone full out, letting your pure, beautiful self loose on the world?
Let me know. I want to compile your answers and send all this beauty out to all of you.
It’s a fantastic way to keep our collective joy pocket full. Channel your inner ninja and let me know how you kicked some A$%!!