Passing the Open Window (Thank You, John Irving)

I can't remember the first time I read Hotel New Hampshire by John Irving, just as I don't recall when I first discovered The World According to Garp (also by John Irving). HOWEVER — and, yes, I know you're not supposed to ever start a sentence with "however" — I remember what it felt like to read the line "pass the open windows." It was intense because it meant to keep going when the shit was so deep or you were so stressed you wanted to, well end it. Jump out the window. Give into the pain.

This journey I've been on to publish a novel AT THE AGE OF 61 (there, I said it) has been stressful, intense, and energizing. Crazy. There have been times when I didn't know if I'd make it because I've had to do things outside of my comfort zone. Marketing, for example. I used to be a marketing writer, for fuck's sake, and the thought of having to reach out and touch people on my own behalf was freaking me out. But...

Why?

I, literally, couldn't sleep some nights because of how uncomfortable it makes me. Not made. Nope. Makes. I'm still not feeling good about what all this "see me, watch me, follow me" shit is about. And I probably never will be. But I needed to get in touch with the deeper meaning for myself so I could be the best steward of my own work that I could be. And because this is not just a "one and done" thing for me. I am on the path to focusing solely on my writing and cooking, my passions that fill me constantly, and it is important for me to understand what's behind this feeling of discomfort.

When I realized what made me so angsty, I wanted to scream: Imposter syndrome. I have a healthy, hearty dose of imposter syndrome.

Shit.

That sucks. Big time. How will anyone believe in me if I don't believe in myself? And the funny thing is, I do believe in this book, I believe in the story and my love of bringing people together over food. I believe in other tales I plan to tell and the food I put on the table to share those yarns. The issue isn't that I don't believe in my work. The issue is I get caught up in is, well, me.

Linda.

Embracing our brilliance

I'm working on stepping into accepting myself as a viable commodity others will invest in. Whew! That was an awful lot of words to say I'm embracing my brilliance. WORKING on it... working on it. It's a process. Doing so means I mentally stand in front of the open window in my mind and look out into the horizon, not down into the abyss. And I take little mental and emotional leaps out to fly not fall; taking risks and working with the discomfort that comes from them.

In my own way, I'm giving the open windows as John Irving describes a pass. I'm taking a lot of deep breaths, hot baths, and long walks to work through the anxiety — yes, real, honest to goodness, sitting straight up in bed with wild-eyed horror anxiety — that comes with the self-promoting I have to do for my own success. I'm embracing the need to leap and grab what is on the other side of that jump to lift me up rather than weigh me down.

Don't misunderstand me. I'm completely scared shitless about everything I need to do to give myself the lift to live my passion. I just choose to leap at and face it rather than jump down and flee it.

I'm not alone, right?