Last Saturday I met an interesting driven guy whose apparently light conversation kicked me out from my comfort zone and encouraged me to talk straight to my long-lasting enemy: the scared version of myself.
I was basically telling him that I’m a writer, although that’s not actually true. I’m a writer in my mind, a professional procrastinator wrapped up in fears.
The fact that he was a stranger to me somehow hit me and gave me the fuel I needed. He didn’t say nothing spectacular, nothing that I haven’t heard a million times before.
I’ve had this kind of conversations in the past.
With resolute and self-confident individuals -the outgoing prototype – who weren’t able to understand why I hid under pen names and tried to remain anonymous.
With people that told me off in a nice way for not giving my gift away- the when you have a talent you must share it prototype-.
And with the high achievers that talked rationally about setting goals, follow routines and taking advantage of all the amazing tools and apps ready to serve my purpose.
All of them were right, of course. And I’ve spent a ridiculous amount of time thinking about how would it feel to open up and share my stories, to find a routine within my cluttered schedule and start DOING -and eventually stop THINKING-.
So here’s to the guy I met last Saturday and to all of the free advisers I met in the past.
I am a late boomer with fear and excitement in equal measure, a chronic postponer starting rehab. Please bear with me!
