I'm on my bike, it's slightly too warm for my outfit. I put some thought into what I was going to wear today, the kind of formal thought that's not weather related. I wanted to be wearing the right clothes. Respect the room, etc. I'm really excited, and it’s the kind that feels scary. I lock up my bike and open the door to my friend’s studio (thanks again, Sarah!) and get ready. In roughly an hour I’ll be auditioning for a talk on a topic that is so personal, I've only just dug it out myself. I'm auditioning for a keynote on a topic that I haven't even told my closest friends about. The topic is my version of “what's in your way becomes the way”.

I know magic lies beyond comfort. Pinterest told me. And before that it was me teaching as a consultant fifteen years ago. Flip chart, permanent marker, small circle: comfort zone, large circle: where the magic happens. But this morning feeling uncomfortable isn't feeling pinteresty. It feels like fear.

The last time I felt this afraid was jumping from the 3-meter board right into the deep, blue sea on my favourite island. I always dare myself to jump. No matter how often I do it though, I'm exactly as scared as the time before. There is no getting used to it. Practice doesn't seem to soften the fear.

I know the sea will catch me, salty but soft, but the free fall in mid air? I can't get used to that. The height is the height every time. I can't seem to make a habit out of this.

I remember listening to someone making a habit out of risk. It was Tori, Tori Dunlap. Her podcast financial feminist taught me money last year. And risk. What she said makes real sense:

The fear I’m feeling? I’m going to talk about what I’ve been hiding for the last 40 years. Today I’ve decided to lead with that fear. I’m risking my old self.

The weird thing? I’ve missed this feeling. Despite the fear, I feel alive.

We've learnt early on that it's important not to wear the wrong hairclips in grade 1 (my daughter's risk yesterday) not to be judged for fully being yourself while auditioning (me, today). For my daughter the risk of being laughed at is real and I take it seriously. Being laughed at hurts. But she is anticipating this before it has actually happened. What if nobody laughs? What if she's meant to be a trendsetter? (We're talking about Lilo & Stitch hairclips) And me? If my words don't land today, I can tell my story somewhere else tomorrow.

If I flip the risk, I can discover what it is costing me to not take it. It's costing me my voice. So the question isn't necessarily “What will happen if I fail?” (my daughter will be laughed at; I won't be chosen), but “What will happen if I don't go for it?” (my daughter won't be a trendsetter and I won't be a speaker, and you?).

Comfort or courage?

Say hello to the second Activity Book for Adults Done Giving Up ⚡️

Stay curious. Stay courageous.

^{Written by a human. Unpolished. On purpose.}