En-courage-ment
by Leah Parkyn
Courage doesn’t always come easy for many of us. We dig deep for it but some don’t even have the stamina or appetite for the digging.
I have been on the precipice of a creative existence forever.
I’ve not previously felt able to take the leap and live that life. I’ve known that it’s expected of me to be normal. To have a normal job. To earn a normal salary. To have a normal life. I envy those that relish in that conformity. I could be so very content were that enough for me.
I seek more
I push the boundaries of my everyday life to enable it to better reflect who I am and what I do but in some areas, that stretching will soon tear and the fabric that divides these worlds will rupture. The result will either be chaos or something spectacular. I’m not yet sure which if I’m ready for either. I’ve a nervousness.
Self-doubt runs deep when you’ve carried
it for as long as you can remember
I’ve often considered creativity as an affliction.
Albeit a capability coveted by others, it can also be draining; a chaotic, unstable, expansive mind can be a challenging life partner; living with anxiety, uncertainty, and angst can be soul-destroying. It’s a tough road but one that it’s hard to opt-out of, hard to divert from, hard to not take. I’m learning that and those learnings shape me every day.
It’s different for each of us. For me, it’s like taking the coast path instead of the motorway. I don’t have access to the easier route and as I’ve grown I’ve accepted this as my pathway. I’ve accepted that there’s no magic that will conjure anything different and that I just need to put in the hard yards and cover the distance. I’ve not always been so accepting and I have fought these boundaries, set for me as I was made, for many of my ages. That’s not this story though.
I’m here now, mid-life. Wondering where next. Seeking a new horizon and better equipped for the more arduous route I’ll take to reach it. This terrain will be challenging much like the part of a big walk that causes some terror, the ravine on either side of a narrow pathway, the sheer drop that causes your heart to rise in your throat, and your breath to still. These are the points in any journey where I know that I will learn more about myself. That I will grow. Even if that means accepting that I need to find another way because what’s in front of me is just too daunting.
In my everyday life I reference this ‘the impediment is the path’ being the mantra that enables us to ‘build the right thing, in the right way’.
My everyday life involves a corporate role where I support people who enable change to understand risk. I’ve spent the last 25 years of my working life progressing up the hierarchical ladder; that means I am now identified as a leader. I’m still not sure what that means. I tell my teams it simply means that ‘I’m the one with the map’ but we all have a part to play in the journey we take; we all have a voice and everyone gets heard.
I tell them that we ‘journey together’ but I know my job is to keep them strong, energised, focussed, and enthused by the prospect of what’s ahead for us. My job is to nurture them and enable them to grow and evolve as individuals, in terms of self and in terms of the role they hold on the team sheet. My job is to enable them to get the job done and to enjoy doing it.
I think though that I am reaching the boundary of that career and the conventional existence that I inhabit. The costume I wear to play my part as a leader in a corporate world grows tired and is starting to feel more like a constraint. This want that I have carried for a while - a want to be truer to myself - is becoming uncontainable and I’m starting now to think about how I can lead myself through change.
How can I hold an existence that I might find altogether more fulfilling.
Where can I find peace with what I do every day and the person that I know myself to be.
The wrestle often feels like a knot in a rope that got wet and grew tighter; slow, patient hands help me to untangle it.
It’s taken me a long time to accept the offers of help extended to me.
I’d grown used to being alone in this endeavour.
In the past I’ve been wounded, learning to trust can be challenging. I think of them as beacons. A point on the horizon that enables me to anchor my position, to know where I am and how far I have to travel. I know that also these beacons bring hope, optimism, and often a helping hand when you most need it. They are willing you forward. Encouraging, nurturing, and making space in their life to enable yours.
They soothe, heal and repair the tattered edges that have been ravaged as I’ve travelled. These beacons and their words of encouragement bring value to my work and are the very beginning of my belief that what I do might have worth and value.
They bring oxygen to the tiny ember that I have kindled into existence and that I now need to nurture.
This is where I think you find courage.
It’s in you and it’s given by others.
It comes from all the places that you’ve taken yourself. The highs and lows. The scars and reserves of knowledge that you built through your journeys, which enabled your survival. It also comes from the energy shared by those willing you on, restoring you when your energy is spent. Showing you how if you can’t find a way.
Learning this has taken me more years than may have been necessary.
I find now that my heart guides me forward, often illogical but rooted in something innate that I cannot name. I know now that I cannot not be true to who I am. As I’ve let this guide me there’s been a settling of self that I had not previously known.
I have learned to be kind.
Mostly to myself. Whilst often kind to others, I neglected what I needed and berated myself for what I was not.
Be kind to yourself as you travel; be kind to others; accept the kindness of those who believe in what you’re doing.
Ask for help if you need it.
None of us need to travel alone and the journey can be richer together.
