1. The Knock-On Effect
I was slated to give a presentation at a statewide annual writers’ conference. I’d give many presentations before. I always over-prepare, which then frees me up to be in the moment—to perform as my best self.
Ordinarily, I love presenting: it makes me feel alive.
This time felt different. I was surely about to tank in front of a lot of people. I questioned the value of my material. It wasn’t deep enough. I would only repeat what a roomful of cynical writers already knew. I’d come off as trite and, gasp, dull. My flow wouldn’t flow.
Why the sudden trepidation? I knew the material. Had delivered it before. No fresh risks here.
So why was I so filled with dread?
Then I realized: This was the knock-on effect.
In the days and weeks leading up to this presentation, I’d endured a number of personal setbacks and professional rejections. Taken together, I felt beaten down, discouraged, and defeated. You know how you sometimes feel “off,” or out-of-whack?
Recent events made me question the rightness of my actions, the soundness of my decision-making, and most certainly, my skills as an author.
Doubts piled upon doubts. By the time I was ready to mount the stage to deliver my presentation, I’d already done a lot of pre-game tailgating: I was loaded with pre-existing doubts.
This, then, was the knock-on effect: Full to the brim with doubt and worry, I was primed to pile on even more. The dial of my autonomic nervous system was already set on high. I had nowhere to go, psychologically, but to the state I was already in.
After the presentation was over, and I’d done well, and the whole thing went off without a hitch, I learned a lesson:
The past is not always prologue. When you’re in a heightened, doubtful (watchful) state, the next thing to come along isn’t necessarily the same as whatever came before.
Patterns do break; they are not necessarily forever—nor do they define you indefinitely.
We always have the capacity to renew, to hit re-set, to begin again with brighter expectations.
Coming in Part 2: The Baseline Distortion.
Amy, kinda reminds me of the old country song: happiness is Lubbock, Texas in the rearview mirror. Lubbock is a perfect symbol for all our pent up negativity that weighs us down. A case could be made for removing rearview mirrors altogether.
I needed to read this today. I look forward to reading your book Doubt Monster when it's published next year. We see a lot of writing about fear (Feel the fear and do it anyway!) but doubt really is different than fear.