31 days of scary stuff

NEVER EVER let me look at WebMD.

I just had a conversation with a dear friend the other night about how WebMD should be perpetually blocked in the web browser of anyone like she or I, anyone who is crippled by overwhelming anxiety over the absurd.  Believe me, when I say I suffer anxiety over the most ridiculous of possibilities, I’m grossly underestimating my skills and aptitude.

If I even so much as GLANCE at a medical website, I’m CONVINCED I suffer from the most rare of genetic disorders, the most devastating of terminal illnesses, and the most incurable of conditions that will undoubtedly result in the most profound of suffering and misery.  I was somewhat relieved to learn - in my conversation with my friend the other night - that I was not the only one as a teenager that lived in mortal fear of the most rare of disorders: immaculate conception. How would I have explained that one to my overbearing parents as a pimply 15 year old, who literally had zero boys interested in her?

We had a good laugh over our shared ridiculousness.

On the other hand, when I’ve actually endured a not-so-savory medical condition, instead of facing it head on (lest it be something as cataclysmic and unexpected as immaculate conception), I’ve typically ignored it until the point it rears an ugly head and forces itself onto me, much as my cat claws his way onto my lap every morning, and hence spilling my hot coffee into my crotch.  

Yes, I am the person who can start a story with “oh, that time I had the parasite.”  Incidentally, I named it Fred, and we were close neighbors for...oh...years. Fred was a mortal terror, and why he hated me so much, I know not.  I have no idea how Fred found me, except maybe through some secret friend/host finder account reserved for adventurous surfers who found themselves far, far, far down the coast of Baja in the early 2000s, unafraid of the risk of drinking tap water.  Thank God for anti-protozoal medications; bidding farewell to Fred was one of the most liberating moments of my adult life.

Speaking of being an adult…

If you follow me on social media, you’ll know that I’ve been doing a little experiment this month, my #31daysofscarystuff, for October.  I’m doing something every single day that freaks me out this month, and I’m sharing it publicly. I find it interesting that we as Americans, once a year, LOVE scaring ourselves over silly, ridiculous, and superstitious crap - oooooo, Ouija boards!  Demons and ghosts everywhere! - and instead tend to ignore the big scaries. You know, pending economic downturns. Widening gaps of rich and poor. Lack of retirement savings. Inability to pay healthcare costs. Things like that. It’s a lot more fun to think about ghosts instead of economic collapse, I suppose, just as it was more interesting for me to think about the possibilities of rare immune system disorders instead of confronting Fred head-on, years ago.

I’m using myself as a little bit of a guinea pig this month, as my “facing my fears for 31 days” personal challenge/extreme immersion therapy is really just a warm-up for a much bigger project.  A select few of you know this, but not many - I’m almost finished writing my first book. And, even less of you know this part, I’m using this book as a launch for a new business endeavor.

It’s about “adulting.”  Yes, I’m writing a manual - geared toward Gen Z’ers and Millennials - about essential adulting skills that do NOT get taught in school.  Things like basic money management, in-person networking skills, branding, writing emails and correspondence. And let me tell you - I’m pretty much an expert on this stuff, and after acquiring nearly 18 years of college teaching experience, I’m more than fit to educate the masses.

One of the things I notice about a lot of my tattoo clients who are members of these generations is that they almost always think something is wrong with them because they suffer from anxiety.  I’m not minimizing anxiety, or mental health issues by saying this - but here’s the thing. Part of being an adult is learning how to be comfortable with being uncomfortable. There’s nothing wrong with you for having fear or anxiety.  You’re absolutely normal. Some things are just scary. That’s all.

Anything worth doing - anything with a big payoff - is often a risk.  OF COURSE, it’s anxiety inducing. And it often f-ing sucks. But if you’re going to be a responsible ADULT human, you acknowledge it, say “Hey, what’s up! I know you!”, and move the hell on with your day.  Because - as an adult, you don’t have time to waste on spinning out about said risk. You work to minimize the risk, but take the chance to better yourself.

I knew I needed to practice what I’m planning to preach.

One of my biggest fears in life is actually letting people in, and being completely open and authentic about what I think or feel.  Yes, even those of you who have known me for eons (thinking of my college roommate here, and how she witnessed me as a 17 year old spouting off the most unfounded and blunt of insensitive comments, especially toward my dates), may not actually know what I REALLY think about a lot of things.  I’m actually pretty diplomatic. I’m the quintessential Libra, weighing all the consequences of every single word I say, every single social media post I put up, worrying about possibly making someone not feel OK, offending or alienating. I also worry non-stop about NOT BEING LIKED. Which is really dumb, because - hard truth - not everyone’s going to like me, and that’s OK.  But, as that little girl who was the kid in school who got non-stopped bullied and stuffed in the lockers in gym class, I’m scared all the other kids are going to make fun of me.

Here’s my cat. He’s cute. I’ll keep posting pictures of him.

My little blog post today is simply to announce my project: I’m starting a business where I’m giving advice on basic adulting skills for Millennials and Gen Z’ers.  There’s a book. There’s a YouTube channel. And there will be a website (likely not this one - it’s in the works). I’m scared as hell. I’m scared I’m going to be the over-poster and the over-promoter.  But, if there’s one thing I’ve learned as a reasonably successful business owner who opened up just over two years ago with NO clients and NO following and literally NO money left, if you’re going to hustle up customers, you’ve got to be your number one fan.  So, here goes. If you’re along for the ride, cool. I thank you. If not, you can unfollow or simply scroll past to look at pictures of my cat - which I assure you, I will continue to unabashedly post because he is OH SO FABULOUS.

Thanks for reading if you made it this far.  Here’s to doing things that scare us in order to get to the next level!