Nicole Herron Talks

Last week I did my biggest BOLD activity yet. I attended Inner Child Theatre Camp in Big Bear, California. My original intention was to record my thoughts along the way and include them in the podcast episode, but I came to the realization after the September BOLD that it can take me out of the moment and into my head when I try to evaluate my own experience as it happens.

So instead, you can listen to my before/after thoughts on the podcast and read my in-the-moment thoughts from each day right here in the notes.

The social aspect has been much easier than I expected. I have latched onto the person I drove in with, but I’ve talked with many others and even spoke up in the big groups. I’ve also found the singing to be somewhat easier than I feared because I chose to do lower harmony, which I’ve never done before and really never understood how it works. The inner child play hasn’t been too bad. A lot of it has been similar to improv class. And the visualization has been similar to the workshops I do with Sage and others. The most challenging part has been the dance. Not only the learning of the steps, but it’s had me incredibly emotional. I have been frustrated that I can’t keep up with the music. I had a flash of myself sticking can tabs in the sole of my shoes to be able to tap dance as a kid. And how much I wanted to be a dancer but didn’t have the stamina. It’s not stamina that’s in my way now, and I can’t let the perfectionist go. Everyone has been incredibly kind and supportive about it, but I’m still struggling with shutting down my negative thoughts.

I’m still struggling in the dance and I’m so frustrated by it. I’m trying to let go of perfectionism but can’t seem to do it. When we were doing a freeform improvised dance I stayed on the edges and at one point something sticking out of the baseboard caught my eye. It was a sticker of a mushroom (I love mushrooms) that said “Love you so mush.” I put it on my water bottle. I know that’s what I should be saying to myself, yet my brain keeps telling me that I’m a failure. People have tried to be supportive, telling me that they struggle too, but my brain keeps saying that I’m struggling more and they just don’t see how awful I am. They say to just have fun with it, but I can’t find the fun. I’ve cried in every dance session. I don’t cry in the sharing sessions (unless I talk about dance). I can do the steps when we are doing them slowly without music. But add in the music and I can’t keep up. I know I’m not perfect in the singing. Yet that doesn’t bother me. I also didn’t go to the bonfire last night. Partially because I’ve liked having time alone in the cabin before sleep, but also so that I didn’t have to walk uphill. Thomas said “it’s not that much of a hill.” To which I replied “for you.” I’m struggling with the altitude as well as the exertion. Which brings back all of my feelings of being defective. That’s the root of so much of my trauma. That feeling of being defective. It’s what I worked on in therapy. But I haven’t really worked on healing that since. I’ve been focused on the social anxiety aspect, trying to reframe my cognitive distortions in that regard, but I haven’t focused on my feelings of defection. Perhaps that’s what this week has opened up. And why dance, which requires that physical exertion, is my biggest challenge. So the question is, how do I reframe it? How do I teach my brain to stop focusing on how different I am and celebrate that I’m a unique individual and that’s okay?

I’ve had lots of people give me words of support and encouragement. Which almost feels worse than no one noticing my struggle. My brain wants to be capable, but my body just isn’t getting it. And I feel like the people that say they’re struggling too aren’t struggling to the same degree or for the same reasons. Thomas came over and asked if he could dance next to me and I said “well, YOU can. I’ve given up.” And even though I know it’s a perfectly valid choice to not do the dance, I really wanted to. But every time I try, the fun flies away. I’ve shared several times in small and large groups, and everyone has tried to make me feel better. But my brain keeps telling me they’re just being nice and they can’t possibly understand. Not really.

This morning I texted my husband about my realization.

Me – “This camp has been very eye opening. I’m unpacking a ton of inner trauma that I haven’t focused on because of the social anxiety taking the focus. I came to the realization this morning that the reason I’ve been so emotional about the dancing portion is because it has emphasized my feelings of being defective and unable to keep up with my peers.”
Him – “That’s awesome!”
Me – “Now to figure out how to let that go.”
Him – “You’ve shown yourself, in many ways, that you’re more capable than you give yourself credit for. Someone will always be better at individual aspects of our lives, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try and improve that part for ourselves. The combination that is you is unique and has value. It’s okay to show up different, ‘cause showing up is the part that matters.”

In the back of my head I’d convinced myself that Larisa was talking to me so often because she had me as her secret camper. I had a no doubt that she would have zero interest in me otherwise. But that was not the case. I tell myself these stories that I’m not good enough for anyone to genuinely like me. When I confessed to her, she was emphatic that she sought me out because I was likable.

I’d also bravely confessed to Abbie that I had not approached her because I felt like she was way too cool for me and I was unworthy. Why do I feel this way? Why do I have such a hard time believing that I am likable beyond being someone to vent to? I pass all kindness off as being due to the other person’s obligation rather than any quality I might possess.

If you’re curious about Inner Child Theatre Camp, I highly suggest checking their website for a camp near you.

NHT has guests! The first guest is a dear friend that I met in a social anxiety group online. I knew Anthony was the first person I wanted to ask to be on my show. Find out more about Anthony and how he has been challenging himself to face his anxiety for years. Listen to the end to find out how we will be challenging each other to be BOLD.

A bit of a warning, I am new to the whole interview someone for a podcast thing, especially considering Anthony and I had a lot to catch up on. Our conversation meandered for forty-five minutes, which I cut down to just under twenty. I forgot to “introduce” him and Zoom cut us off before I could close out the interview, so I had to add that after the fact. But like I’ve told my kids, it’s my first attempt in learning. Future interviews should be smoother. I hope.

This episode is very meta and a roller coaster ride of emotions as I take one more step towards facing my anxiety. Guests. It’s one thing to talk into the void, but now I have to talk with other people? Sure, they may have anxieties too, but that’s not helping mine any. Now I’ve got the added anxiety layer of making them comfortable as well!

If you’re interested in joining the conversation, fill out the form below. It may be scary, but if you’re even halfway considering it, this might just be the BOLD act you need.

Saturday, I had a table at my fifth bookfair event. It was my fourth with Get Lit and a return to the venue where it all began for me. On the drive to/from the event, I decided to record my thoughts. I hadn’t planned to post another episode so soon, but I’m making all of this up as I go along. Perhaps I can get to a point where I can record clips while I’m in the midst of an anxious activity? That would certainly be a challenge!

Contact me if you’d like to be a part of the conversation.

I’ve recorded an official episode! Considering the fact that no one has listened to episode zero, it’s not as scary as it was initially. So, I did a scary thing to talk about on the episode.

For the last year I’ve been putting myself through self-assigned exposure therapy. Challenging myself to do the things I’ve wanted to do but haven’t because of my anxiety. I’ve been tracking these on the blog under the BOLD category. I’ve found that this self-imposed challenge has been incredibly helpful and will continue to find ways to show up anyway.

This episode takes me back to the location of my June challenge, but with a friend! Listen to my before and after anxieties and reflection.

What scary thing will you do this week?

I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember. Some formal, some for fun, some to process. Writing is like breathing to me. It’s something I need to do. People talk about using your voice and I know that writing can be one way of doing that. But writing comes easily to me, for the most part. Talking? That’s harder.

Sure, I can hold a conversation. I have even performed in front of live audiences. But every time is followed by days, months, weeks, and sometimes years of rumination. Should I have said this differently? Did I make sense? Did I talk too much? Not enough? Did people think I was crazy when I said xyz?

The anxiety involved in using my actual voice is much higher than writing. That’s why I’ve had a blog for nineteen years. I can write down my thoughts and send it out into the world and barely think about it. I rarely re-read what I’ve written here on the blog. At least, not for the purpose of improving it or changing anything. Sure, there have been times that I’ve hesitated to hit the publish button but overall, I post and move on.

That’s why this month I’m going to try something new. I’m going to talk. With my voice. I’m going to put my voice out into the world and try not to have a panic attack about it or edit it to pieces because it doesn’t sound like I thought it would. You’ll notice a lot of pauses and rambling in this first episode. I chose not to edit it out because I want to be real with you. This s**t scares me, and you can tell. Do you know how long it took me to pick an intro/outro?! I’m praying it gets easier.

This is the start of something that I hope will continue. I’m not entirely certain where it will go but look forward to finding out. Join me as I use my voice. I’ll be looking for guests soon. For now, you get to hear me ramble.