You may have wondered last summer: Why should Kate stay here? Why not sell what’s left of Wit & Delight and move on like so many of her colleagues?
My answer to you is disappointing, because really, I don’t know. But I do know that the path away from writing is like being sucked into a black hole. I could choose which abyss I would fall into.
The whole question is—What else can I do?—There was an answer: This is what I do best.
Walking away from Wit & Delight was the ultimate self-betrayal, but I refused to face it for months. I knew I couldn’t let it go, but I couldn’t bear the shame of staying there.
To stay in what’s necessary, I pay a price: I face questions I don’t know the answers to.
How can I be myself?
How can I be myself if I pay the price of being criticized every day?
How can I know who I am when I don’t know who held the switch, you, the reader, or myself?
When the armor comes off
In June I was listening to ~. Interview with Brené Brown As I went for several walks, her words floated over the vibration of my footsteps and rang in my ears.
In the interview, Brené talks about the armor we all collect throughout our lives. Armor is the protective behaviors and attitudes we adopt to protect ourselves from perceived vulnerability, shame, or judgment. These behaviors can include things like perfectionism, cynicism, people-pleasing, emotional numbness, over-achieving, and withdrawing from relationships.
The armor is there to help us feel safe when we go out into the world and break free from our families. It helps us find love, work, and life outside of our familiar comfort zone.
The cost of this armor is vulnerability. Armor often comes from the fear of being seen as inadequate, defective, or unworthy. We believe it will protect us from the pain of this vulnerability: rejection, criticism, or disappointment.
It works until it becomes too heavy to move, then it falls off.
Brown says this attrition process happens between the late 30s and mid-50s.
I increase my speed. No, no, no. I’m not ready yet.
I tried to take a class on differences. understanding The concept and practice of vulnerability life that.
My armor turned to dust in the July heat, evaporating from my body. I felt naked, scared, exposed, and longing for the protection of home and the innocence of childhood. I crouched with the kids, eyes level with theirs, rolling barefoot in the grass, asking them questions about the world they imagined. We made messes, made cookies, made gooey Play-Doh pieces, stayed up late, and smelled of salt, dirt, sweat, and love. Their world wasn’t imagined. They lived.
Children are not half-baked versions of adults. They are whole and complete, but they will be bent and pressed and shaped into versions of themselves that will fall apart later in life. How wise they are, and how short-sighted we are not to see them as teachers.
I threw them into the lake, jumped off the dock, and went down the water slides. They blinked at me like little Buddhas of joy and delight. Children are not half-baked versions of adults. They are whole and complete, but they will be bent and pressed and shaped into versions of themselves that will fall apart later in life. How wise they are; how short-sighted we are not to see them as teachers. Guides back home.
Accept what it means to be human
I started looking at my social media feeds differently. I celebrated other people’s successes. I really celebrated. My heart burst with joy when I saw my longtime colleagues achieve great things. Like any group, we’ve been through the same specific trials and tribulations of our industry, and we know how sausages are made. We know what it takes to get there. And I saw a glimmer of what I was made of.
When the back of my neck got hot, I surrendered to my anger, owned it, and let it go. I learned the virtue of looking at what was bothering me or displeasing me and saying, “No, that’s not for me.” I learned to see envy, disgust, and jealousy as signs of light on a foggy shore. I swam toward them with curiosity, exploring dark caves to find my mined pieces hidden beneath the ash and debris of my now useless armor.
When my husband asked, I told him how I really felt. I told him straight. I didn’t worry about the weight of my humanity or whether I would be a burden for him to carry. I didn’t hold on to comments that were meant to hurt. I didn’t hold on to comments that I didn’t understand.
I felt peace and realized that I didn’t have to express every opinion with my tongue. I didn’t have to perform to anyone. I learned the virtue of keeping much of my life a secret. I learned to tolerate criticism and hold space for nuance. I learned to live with crowds and expansiveness. I learned to give myself space and then I had a lot of space to give to others. We can all be brave, fearful, petty, lewd, bright, brilliant, silly, foolish, frivolous, profound, loving, and cunning. Human beings who have been given permission to fully expand into our humanity.
Leaning on Authenticity – and All That Comes With It
Part of allowing yourself to be who you are is being open to all the meaning of your authenticity. You will meet people who support you, people who oppose you, and people who don’t see you at all. But unless you allow them to see you, you will never know who is who.
I was looking for an answer How to be myself.
I was looking for the next chapter so as not to face the end of this book.
I couldn’t find either one.
What I discovered was the courage to open my heart to questions that had no answers.
The courage to restrain the masses.
The courage to show favor to others.
The courage to live, to write, to exist here Without armor.
Part of allowing yourself to be who you are is being open to all the meaning of your authenticity. You will meet people who support you, people who oppose you, and people who don’t see you at all. But unless you allow them to see you, you will never know who is who.
We can weave a tapestry out of the rags of failure. We can assemble a new home out of the rubble. To build anew, we must face ourselves. We must face the meaning of pain. We must embrace the strength it takes to not turn away from everything. The gift of that discomfort is a pearl: the knowledge that you were not made to break. You can be who you are, break down, and lose nothing.
That’s when I knew why I wasn’t like that. complete here.
Flowers growing from cracks
When I think of the woman who started this site, she is me, but at the same time, she is me who no longer resembles me. She is at my core. She needed a place to express the seeds of her pain. The pain that was so compressed and hard in her chest, fused with her organs. This pain was essential to her survival, an inoperable lump inside her. Year after year, this pain gave way to the natural erosion of life and love, like a rock on a mountainside. Little flowers sprouted between the cracks and crevices, delicate and proud in the harshest climate.
Then a crack appeared and the lump collapsed. This is what was left.
Are you brave enough to create conditions where flowers can grow in a place where only the strongest survive? Perhaps.
Kate is the founder of Wit & Delight. She is currently learning how to play tennis and is Testing the limits of her creativity. Follow her on Instagram @withanddellight_.
