Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of showing up. Really it’s something I’ve thought about for the past year, but suddenly I can’t stop thinking about it. Mostly because I thought I knew what it meant until I recently realized that no, THIS is it.
When I was younger, I thought I had my life planned out. It was really more of a checklist, but it all seemed so simple. Go to BYU, make the ballroom touring team, find a husband, graduate, get a grown up job, and start a family someday. Easy. But, much to my dismay, you can’t just make a plan and expect life to respect your wishes. I went to BYU and made the tour team, but I obviously didn’t find a husband, and my education and career paths did not go as expected. I found myself having to make decisions I didn’t anticipate needing to make (especially on my own). I was lost in uncharted waters and, heaven forbid, I did not have a plan for that. Paralyzed by possibility, I fell into my safety net. Little by little, my new life built itself on a thousand and one concessions I made because life didn’t go as planned.
Here’s the thing. Historically, I have been a person easily discouraged by life. When something didn’t go as expected or desired I would build up walls to avoid any further risk or disappointment. But that action cut off the potential for any of the good things I wanted to happen, to you know… actually happen. Those walls were inadvertently sending an energy into the world that pushed away the very things I most wanted. One doesn’t get to pursue success without risking failure; it’s just not possible.
I’ve been reading several books recently by Brené Brown, who also gave one of my favorite TED Talks. Brené is a researcher who writes about vulnerability and living a wholehearted life. She’s real and relatable, and I would highly recommend her books to anyone because they will change your life. In her book “Daring Greatly”, she cites a quote from a speech given by Theodore Roosevelt (from which the book draws its name).
It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.
–Theodore Roosevelt, “Citizenship in a Republic”
It resonated with me, more than ever before, that showing up and living your life with raw vulnerability is truly the most courageous thing you can do. I no longer want to be safe on the sidelines; I want to be that woman in the arena with my face marred by dust and sweat and blood. A woman who has openly erred and come short, but who gives life all she’s got again and again and again.
So now I’m learning that you have to do the things you really, really don’t want to do. In fact, more often than not they’re the most important things to do. You have to get comfortable being uncomfortable and be willing to do the things that are really inconvenient and really quite difficult.
Showing up means saying thank you, I love you, and I’m sorry. It means saying these things even, and especially, when the words don’t come easily. It means opening your heart up to love and adventure and making the decision to jump headfirst into new opportunities for growth, but also being willing to ask for help when you need it. Living a full life requires your active participation. It is your responsibility to show up, so to speak. And that willingness to show up changes us. It makes us a little braver each time.
Failure is inevitable. I’ve spent nearly my whole life avoiding putting my heart on the line, and even that didn’t protect me from ever getting hurt. Life is scary and terrifying and at times overwhelming. To show up is to risk all of these things every day on a grand scale. But that’s the point. The more you risk, the more you experience freedom from the fear itself.
It all hit me recently when there I was, Meredith Grey, standing there asking my own McDreamy to love me. Pick me. Choose me. Love me. For the first time in my life, I was there, actively present, saying this is what I want and I’m going to fight for it. Like Meredith, I loved him in a really big kind of way. In a pretend-to-like-his-favorite-soccer-team, let-him-eat-the-last-Chip-cookie, plan-our-future-together kind of way. But even so, you ultimately have to make the decisions that are best for you and find what makes you the happiest and most true version of yourself. My world did not revolve around him; he is not the sun–I am.
And now here I go, once again, to the edge of that metaphorical cliff. That treacherous cliff of vulnerability and uncertainty. But something is different this time–there’s a peace and stillness in the air. This time I know that there are worse things than falling, like hiding away and wondering, “What if?” This time I am making the hard decisions and throwing myself into the things that are terrifying, exciting, and life-changing.
This time I am choosing to show up. Here is my heart, I am all in.
0Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy–the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.
–Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection
