Be RECKLESS
You know what I've noticed? I seem to have lost my sense of lightheartedness. There is a cloud over me, keeping me company most days. Sometimes she drifts away and lets the sun in, and those moments are glorious; but lately she's been around all the damn time.
She's a very serious cloud. She has a comb-over (she is very self-conscious about it, even though I'm too polite to say anything), wears wire-rimmed glasses that keep slipping down her nose, and she keeps admonishing me.
"You are lazy," she tells me disapprovingly, when I don't do any of the things my strict, German mind tells me I have to do in order to be classified as a worthy, functioning adult: clean the house, prepare healthy and nutritious meals, work on my next book, work out, use my time wisely. That last one is a cardinal rule of being German, and it's a good thing I left my country voluntarily 15 years ago, or they would have kicked me out by now.
Instead of being a well-functioning adult, I've been frivolously wasting my time. I've been spending an inordinately large amount of my free time reading the refreshingly fluffy romance novels by Susan Elizabeth Phillips, watching Grey's Anatomy obsessively, and baking (and eating) cakes like it's my job. (Which at some point, I wanted it to be, but if it would have been, I would be dead by now. I can't resist eating my own cakes. Yup, they're that good.)
"You are weak," the cloud says in that disappointed voice she has. (I hate that voice - it makes you instantly feel guilty.) She really has me there. Despite having done all the heavy lifting on the farm daily, for six months straight, I feel physically and emotionally weaker than I have in a long time. I developed such a persistent wheeze over the last few months that I finally consulted my doctor about it, and his diagnosis was as surprising as it was unwelcome: adult-onset asthma, most likely triggered by hay.
Hrumph. My health and relative physical strength were traits that made up half of my personality, particularly since my husband's illness. Wheezing like an 80-year old who's been smoking 2 packs a day since before the time Madonna was born put a serious damper on my self-worth.
"You are not good enough," she hisses, brandishing a bolt of lightning threateningly.
"You don't have to tell me that,' I hiss back. "I already know."
And there it is. After all this time, after all the soul searching, and the painful lessons, and the growing and expanding and doing things waaaay out of my comfort zone, and being nearly 40-fucking-years-old - it's still there.
That feeling that I'm a fraud.
That I don't know what I'm doing.
That I'm doing stuff I have no business even thinking of doing.
I get it when my publisher asks me how I'd like to distribute my soon-to-be-released book. ("Directly to consumers and local retailers? Or through national distribution channels?" My immediate (silent) response: "HOW THE FUCK DO I KNOW??? I'm not a real author! I have no idea what I'm doing!")
I get it when I receive an email from the local yoga studio, completely out of the blue, asking me if I'd be interested in teaching yoga. Who, me?? The wheezing, weak, emotional wreck I currently am? Are you serious?
I get it every time someone tells me I should do something. "You would be perfect for it!" they will say enthusiastically, and I'm so pleased that they've thought of me, but also so ashamed that I'll have to tell them that they made a terrible mistake in choosing me. Because I'm the wrong choice. I'm not good enough.
The old Imposter syndrome strikes again.
Knowing that even the greats like Meryl Streep, Kate Winslet, Tina Fey, Emma Watson, or Jodie Foster (for more, click here) struggle with the same feelings (as insane as it sounds to us, right?), is comforting.
But what really helps me when I'm in the grip of The Cloud, is to find the humour in it.
I will agonize for days (or weeks), burst into tears without warning, startling my poor husband, wailing and bemoaning the fact that at some point in time, I evoked the impression that I actually wanted to do something with my life (an impression I now regret greatly).
That period can go on for quite some time. (For those of us involved in it, it will feel interminable.)
But then, one morning, I will wake up, feeling inexplicably invigorated and, even more importantly, brave.
And I will feel reckless. That reckless feeling never lasts long, so I better make the most of it.
It's the most exquisite feeling. While you're reckless, you can be, and do, anything.
For example, you can write an email to a cafe+book store you've loved and frequented for years, and offering your book to them. And they may turn it down (actually, they most likely will, because I seriously doubt that's how things are done?!?), but you will feel amazing for having done it.
Brave.
Wild.
Reckless.
And you know what? That reckless feeling is worth every rejection, cloud, and self-doubt.
Because you tried. You put yourself out there. And Meryl Streep is scared, too.
Here is the email I send to said cafe+book store:
Dear Wendel's,
My name is Miriam Verheyden, and I LOVE your cinnamon buns. I also love books, and your bookstore in particular - it's cozy, quirky, and has the best unique gifts!
Like many book lovers, my dream has always been to write a book myself. Last year, I turned that dream into reality, and in April, my first book is coming out!
Let's Pretend This Is Normal, published by Mascot Books, is the true story of how, at the age of 22, I fell in love with a 48-year old father of four.
Up to that moment, I was a scared young woman who had absolutely no idea what to do with her life.
I didn’t know what career I should choose, where I wanted to live, what kind of person I should be. I didn’t like myself very much, so I was desperate for other people to like me. If they did, surely it meant I was likeable?
When I met Richard, not only did I make a choice that was – in the eyes of the world - irresponsible and doomed to fail, but I also risked pissing off a whole bunch of people. But I couldn’t help myself. My head hadn’t been a very good adviser, and my heart spoke loud and clear. It told me that if I didn’t give love a chance, I would always regret it.
So I did.
It was the scariest thing I have ever done. But it was also the very best thing I have ever done.
It taught me that the best things in life are found on the other side of fear.
Let’s Pretend This Is Normal is a love story, yes - but it's also a story about how to figure out life if you have no idea what the hell you're doing. I wrote it for everyone who has ever been scared of making the wrong choice, of not fitting in, of not being quite like the rest of them. If you have ever been worried about never finding happiness, this book is for you.
Having my book on the shelves of your beautiful book store would be an honour.
Please let me know if you are interested in carrying my book, so we can discuss further details.
Sincerely,
Miriam Verheyden
Whatever happens, I was reckless.
And it felt pretty damn good.
Here's to more reckless endeavours for all of us!
xoxo Miriam
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Vol. 48