I have been wrestling with a decision for a couple of weeks, round and round, back and forth, pinned into inaction by my confusion and doubts.
For about a year I have been talking about and inconsistently working on a book project with some friends. One of my goals this year is to finally buckle down, finish it, and get it published. And so I have been steadily working on it—giving myself weekly goals and doing my best to keep my commitments to myself. It’s been amazing to show up for myself this way.
A couple of weeks ago my friend sent me a text, suggesting that maybe we tell the story in another way, and change the first-person perspective into third. Now about 45,000 words into the project, my brain seized up in fear and confusion, as my thoughts ricochetted back and forth between the options.
But that means starting over.
It might be better.
But it might be worse. And that would mean potentially starting over again…(again).
What we have is really good and we don’t want to lose that.
But is it really the best way to tell the story? I might totally be worth rewriting.
But how?
All these thoughts swirled around in mind mind, chased by the real problem thought: But what if I can’t do it? I don’t know if I can.
I talked it over with anybody who would listen. David. Caleb and his girlfriend. Olivia. Auggie. They all thought the solution was obvious. Except Auggie. He looked as confused as me. But then again, for dogs, everything is in first person.
I stewed in confusion, unable to proceed.
Late last week, I talked to Caleb on the phone. He was confused about a decision in his own life. He told me, “I don’t know what to do. I just feel so lost.”
I explained to him that he was feeling lost and unsure because of his thought “I don’t know what to do.” That thought had become his result. “I don’t know what to do” made him feel anxious about making the wrong decision, which left him spinning in inaction, resulting in being lost and not knowing what to do. His mind was making the thought “I don’t know” true for him.
Sound familiar? Unbelievably, I still could not see it in my own life.
That’s the thing about confusion.
Confusion is a liar. It tells you you don’t know what to do and believing that thought only leaves you not knowing what to do. Sneaky, self-fulfilling, little liar. Your mind—in an effort to keep you safe and to keep you from expending more energy—tells you that you don’t know what to do. It proves it by offering a rousing game of “thought ping-pong,” the tiresome back-and-forth of a thousand thoughts with so many alternative scenarios that the truth becomes muddy and obscured. Suddenly, you are well and truly lost.
The next morning, I had a session with my coach. I told her my first-person, third-person dilemma. I told her that while I wanted to rewrite it in third-person, I did not think I had the ability.
She said, “You know that’s just a thought right?”
“What?”
“Just because your brain is offering that you aren’t capable, doesn’t mean it’s true. It is only a thought.“
Wait, what?! Say that one more time.
And suddenly, I could see what was happening. My brain, in an effort to avoid dying (making bad work and being rejected) and expending energy (rewriting 45,000 words) offered confusion as a way out.
That all sounds scary and hard, how about some confusion instead?
And that is what brains do. Confusion is always a dirty liar. It turns out that we always know what to do. We’re just scared to do it.
And so I opened my computer and started again. And you know what? It turns out that my brain was wrong. On both accounts. I know what to do and I am perfectly capable of doing it.