Why am I calling it a fantasy?

Why is it so hard to ask for help? Plus, a word that changes everything.

The Demon

Yesterday I spent hours writing the post intended for tomorrow. This morning, I’m struggling, wondering why I’m calling it a fantasy rather than a dream … or an intention or a goal? I think Imposter Syndrome has me by the throat.

FDIG … Fantasy Dream Intention Goal … just pick one … right? I’m not sure.

The issue seems to be that for this particular FDIG, I’m not sure I can do it myself … AND … also not sure it (I) deserve help. After all, there are starving children in Africa who need (deserve) help more than I do. I should just eat what’s on my plate and shut TF up.

I replay Paula Sher’s quote on an endless loop.

"My most creative work seems to be on projects where I'm inexperienced and uniquely unqualified for the job." … "My most creative work seems to be on projects where I'm inexperienced and uniquely unqualified for the job." … "My most creative work seems to be on projects where I'm inexperienced and uniquely unqualified for the job."

The mountain I struggled up yesterday is the rocky terrain I’m tumbling down this morning. Yesterday, I was ready to go public with a long held fantasy. I carefully crafted the story about what I wanted to do and built up the value that would justify asking for help. The fantasy got bigger; the challenge more daunting, the need for help grew into a stomping elephant. Finally, I left it unfinished and went to sleep.

This morning came with one question: why am I calling it a fantasy?

Then another: why do I need to promise a mountain of value before I can ask for a bit of help? Why is it so hard to ask for help?

Whiny answer: I am not big enough to take on this challenge. If (when) I fail, people will be disappointed … I will be disappointed. Therefore, if I call it a fantasy, it shifts expectations, we giggle about it because it’s “just a fantasy” … no one expects it to succeed or make a difference. And why should anyone help when it’s just a fantasy?

Big or Little? Safe or Vulnerable?

But, I want it to make a difference so I start tacking on value specifics (books, posters, zoom calls and on and on) until it starts to sound like it could change the free world. It’s a really good story and it could make a lovely little book of art and words that I could give to friends and family, maybe even sell a few. However, it also has some bigger aspects, so, I could solicit help and turn it into an article for a magazine … or even a book. It might provide some answers to our troubled times … suddenly, it begins to topple of its own hubris.

I just want to take a nap, go back to my safe spot … keep it underground, don’t mention it, do what I can do by myself and pass it off as just something interesting, nothing really important, just an idea I’m working on, make it my stealth project.

Then,

Russell C. Smith

writes about “proactively pivoting.” Isn’t that what I’m trying to do? I seem to stuck in mid-pivot.

Staying underground would be safe; but probably means not doing “it; (the great unnamed “it). Staying safe could mean it never gets done and will remain journal fodder with no actual results … one of those haunting “if onlys.” I wrote about the story in 2018 and no one noticed. I could simply write about it again and leave it to history. Or, I could pivot, think bigger, act more daring, ask for help.

So, here’s my question for this generous and creative community: I’m sure some or many of you have faced a project possibility that felt bigger than you are. One that you would need to ask for help in order to make it happen.

How did you get past your own fear of failure (or success)? What gave you the courage to take the first step, make the first ask for support?

LATER … I thought this was the end of this post, then along came a PS

Wow! Just as I was finishing this and getting ready to post it while feeling all squishy and vulnerable, I decided it needed a graphic and the one below popped up … suddenly everything looked different. What if I used the word “adventure” rather than “fantasy.” Adventures don’t have to “succeed;” they’re learning experiences. I don’t have to ask for help … I can invite people to come along on the adventure.

The elephant quit stomping and is now swinging his trunk and doing his happy elephant thing. Stay tuned … tomorrow I intend to reveal the adventure.