Being able to be real with yourself, not judge yourself too harshly is the hardest battle of all. A story about this journey, written by the beautiful Olivia, a gorgeous lady I had the pleasure of coaching and meeting through the Melbourne Multipotentialite meet up. You can read more about being a Multipotentialite here.
I strummed my ukelele and sang my heart out, carried away by the song and the pleasure of singing. ‘You could record yourself,’ said Florence. ‘Like I just did.’
Wait, what? You recorded that? But I wasn’t trying, I wasn’t wearing make up, I made mistakes, it was rough. Others might see that? How embarrassing.
‘People don’t connect to perfect, they connect to ‘real’. To what is authentic,’ said Florence. And with that, my world cracked open. All those times I have performed, rigid with terror, concentrating like a laser beam on the notes, the intonation, the words, on getting it right. Because god forbid I should do something in public that is ‘less than’. Sometimes, through the terror, I somehow managed to be good, to communicate something, to give people pleasure. Sometimes I even got past the nerves and enjoyed myself. But perfectionism was like the tiny little ropes the Lilliputians used to tie Gulliver down. A web of threads that engulfed my whole self and kept me pinned in place. If I moved, it was with the effort of straining against those thousand tiny threads, that had only so much give in them, so I could lift an arm, or wriggle a foot, but I’d be pulled back to my tied-down place pretty quickly. A place where I could dream big, but nothing much would ever happen....
Cont. on the blog....