When The Negative Voice Is Screaming

It's just a storm, so walk forward in the rain.

Introspection Saturday.

Folks, some days it's a real struggle. I've had my fights with depression and anxiety (er … I’m still fighting, rather). I've been overwhelmed with grief (still am), I've had relationships go sour, and I've had friendships end.

For a long time, the most abundant emotion inside of my brain was self-doubt.

I’ll be real with you, it still is, and continually fighting it has me exhausted.

Here's the thing about self-doubt. It turns you into a people-pleasing doormat, and I'm not afraid to say that I spent much of my life that way. I didn’t have the tools or wins to realize what I was doing to myself.

When the doubt is there, you end up constantly asking for permission, seeking approval, and tempering your self-worth. It drains confidence in yourself, causes you to disrespect your own boundaries, and generally brings total misery. It doesn’t mean there aren’t pockets of success and joys, it just means there’s a cloud constantly following you around, pissing on the parade, and you can’t just shake your fist and shout it away.

My cloud is particularly large and a bit darker these days, for a host of reasons, all internal, and it’s putting me in a position where I’m having great difficulty sharing my thoughts and fighting for productivity. I have a short vacation to look forward to in about 10 days, and I’m looking forward to that break benefitting the mental health.

Still, I produce what I can - writing and content loaded with heart and humor, because writing from emotion and leaning into comedy (if not straight up absurdity) is how I cope with depression, grief, self-doubt and imposter syndrome. I am the dictionary definition of Sad Clown most days. “Make ‘em laugh, get back to the dressing room, get out of the costume, then sit there in stoic silence locked in your internal malaise until the next show.”

I have a handle on why I do this and it helps to mitigate it’s effect, but I was struggling to find those reasons for the majority of my adult life.

About 15 years ago, I felt similarly (some things never change), so I started hunting for ways to break free. I took up martial arts (eventually running my own school for about 12 years), dropped the ego, and started challenging myself. I punished myself training for Spartan Races (earning my calendar-year Trifecta in 2013), and took on a different mindset.

After 13 miles with a shattered ring finger on mile 7.

I ran races in New York, Montreal, and Vermont, about a year out from back surgery on a busted disc. Damn you, degenerative disc disease and that stupid L4! I trudged up and down a ski mountain for 7 miles, shattered the bones in one of my fingers, and kept going through 8 more miles of obstacles, mountain, and muscle failure until I got to the end on a freezing, rain-soaked night in Killington, Vermont.

1:00 AM at the hospital after the race, still caked in mud. The X-Ray tech had one look and said, “What the fuck did you do to your hand?”

Was it akin to war? No. Was my life in danger? Absolutely not. Was it a psychological battle more than 20 years in the making? You bet your ass it was. I was locked in a knife-fight in a dirty back alley - just me and my self-doubt screaming, "QUIT ALREADY!"

During that run, I watched physical beasts - fit and in their prime - pack up and quit, walking off the course and going home. I heard athletes talking about how stupid and meaningless it was. I hit a medical tent to tape up my gnarled finger and watched people in blankets sipping hot chocolate before they packed up and bailed, 7 miles into a grueling 13-mile obstacle course in that cold rain.

I was there alone. Body, brain, water, and fuel.

The shift in my mindset was attitude. I made myself a promise - I will get to the finish line, even if I have to crawl past it bloody and broken. They'll haul me away in an ambulance if they have to, because I will not say, "I quit."

When it came time to write the debut novel in late 2020, I had zero idea what I was in for, but one thing I knew was that I'd get to the finish line, and I'd hold that work in my hands at the end of it all.

So, I did.

This is a special book, and I firmly believe an under-the-radar gem for fans of urban / contemporary fantasy.

The most important thing about holding yourself accountable is that it develops boundaries and self-worth. I know I am an excellent author. I have a huge range of skills and talents, I write with heart and humor. I hold to my word as a member of the community, and I always expect others to do the same.

Now, I'm not telling you to go hurt yourself. I'm not advising that you start doing insane stuff like riding around in a homemade hot air balloon or visit the Titanic in a janky submarine (iykyk).

What I am saying is stop it. Stop selling yourself short. Stop lacking confidence, allowing people to steamroll your boundaries, and being afraid of speaking up when you feel you've been slighted because it upsets the apple cart. Don’t fear judgement, and even if the clouds are dark and you’re having a hard time believing your own positive affirmations, say them.

Mostly though, don’t dim the light of your writing because it may not be what someone else expects of you. Don’t hold back, and don’t stifle your own creativity. Fight for it. Give the world an authentic you.

There is nobody like you. So pour the coffee, crack the knuckles, don't be afraid to leap over the fire, and have your own back.

We can do this. 💪

Fresh out of the water and over the fire during the 8-mile Montreal Super. Weetabix is gross, btw.