Podcaster’s Block

If I were a writer, I’d have writer’s block. And frankly, the reason why I started podcasting is because I wanted to confront the thing inside me that causes it.

Everyone has a part inside them that’s broken, and if they were able to fix it, they’d end up becoming a better person. But to fix a broken part, first you have to open the thing that’s not working right, dig around, identify the part, take it out, turn it around in your hands, maybe wiggle it a little, hold it up to the light, and try to come up with the best way to go about fixing it. After that comes the hard part–actually doing the work that needs to be done.

Many people like to keep their broken parts hidden. Or perhaps it’s better to say that they like to believe that nobody–even themselves–can see it. But what I’ve discovered is that the more painful the experience, the more valuable the lesson. And if I can share what I’ve learned with others, then no matter how difficult, painful or trying the experience was, not only was it worth it, but I end up feeling truly grateful that it happened. Even if I wouldn’t wish the same experience on my worst enemy. In fact, if you can see yourself as a student instead of a victim, your worst experiences and enemies can be your greatest teachers. (That is, as long as they don’t kill you.)

By podcasting, I’m confronting my greatest fears. Failure. Success. Criticism. Praise. Attention. Anonymity. Everything. Nothing at all. And simply by admitting that here, I’m taking away some of the power those fears have over me and lending it to myself. Which is funny, really, because the fear is me and the courage is me also.

In a way, I’m doing this for everyone who wants to podcast but is too afraid. The way I figure, one of us had to take the first step.

This morning, after waking up and feeling bad for not having put together a podcast last night, I finally arrived at the point where I really, really wanted to give up. I felt like I had failed so completely and let everyone down so much that there was no way I could recover the confidence and credibility I once had. Feeling that way is a good thing. Next step is to acknowledge those feelings of fear and failure, then go ahead and do it anyway. After that, I’ll be able to look back and compare the fear and the accomplishment side by side, and realize that the fear seemed so big only because I was looking at it from so close up.

I’ll probably go through all this again. Progress hardly ever follows a perfectly straight path. Two or three steps forward and one step back still means you’re covering ground. The thing you have to remind yourself is that anyone who’s supposedly rooting for you–your friends, your family, those in peanut gallery, the voice inside your head–if any of them tries to make you feel bad for making a misstep, they haven’t yet learned to appreciate the wonderful things that failure and fear are able to teach. As you keep moving forward, leave them behind you. Maybe someday they’ll catch up to you, maybe not.

But you know what my real problem is? I tend to take shit waaaay too seriously.