My client – a consulting company for the healthcare industry – left me a voicemail that she’d like to speak to me right away. I’d just finished facilitating a four-hour webinar for a government agency that went really well. I imagined that my healthcare client wanted to schedule me for some upcoming presentation. Especially given that our gig last month about customer service went really well at that local hospital.
“I was doing some research online,” she said, and then I knew. I knew that this was the call I’d been afraid of for over a year.
I’ve been privately writing about my personal growth and sexuality for quite some time. I was experiencing something that I call “sexual esteem.” I was feeling good about myself – more whole, more relaxed in my world. This new kind of esteem came my way due to my willingness to follow my own sexual curiosity – even if it led me to really unusual places.
These journal entries turned into essays; I wanted to share what I was learning. Yet I felt an equally strong pull to take it slow. First I shared it with only my lover. Then I attended a workshop and got used to hearing my words said out loud. Later, I asked a group of women friends to come over for a private reading. “Am I crazy?” I asked. “This is brave work.” They told me. “This is important,” they told me. “Keep going,” they told me.
Next came a short, public reading at a local storytelling event. A woman in her twenties came up to me afterward and thanked me really hard – her eyes looking deep into mine. She’s the one I’m writing for. And me. We.
I was careful not to pair my real name with this material on the internet. I was a corporate person after all. “I need to keep my reputation clean,” I told myself. I didn’t want to one day receive a call from a client…
I pressed on and hired an expert to help me develop a full production. And a play was born: Coming Out Kinky – A Grown Up Story. But how would I afford to put it up?
I turned to Indiegogo.com. Putting my show on this platform would invite people from around the world to support the show. I would have to be willing to be seen. My name, this show. The campaign was the subject of blogs, tweets, posts and interviews and raised over $12,000.
And I still feared the call. The call where someone would tell me, “What you are doing is unacceptable. As a punishment, we are taking your livelihood away.”
And here it is at last.
“I can’t work with you anymore,” my client said. We had $1,800 of work pending. That matters to me. I tried to offer a different perspective.
“Don’t fool yourself,” she told me. “Calling what you are doing sex education ennobles you.” I felt her disgust. I was too flustered to tell her that I’ve been asked to perform my show as part of a course for psychotherapists about alternative sexual expression. Literally sex education.
As soon as we hung up, I went to my website and saw it through her eyes. I felt a wave of shame. I called a friend. I took a walk.
Back at my desk, I opened up the review that had just been written about my show on StageRaw.com. Apparently, it’s been selected as one of the top ten in Los Angeles. Top ten.
I spend the next hour sharing the review with enthusiastic supporters, loved ones and friends. And find myself enjoying the rest of my day.
I survived the call. It is a special day indeed.
I survived the call. It is a special day indeed.
I hear your fear, I acknowledge it as real and I say face the fear and move ahead. It is indeed brave and one thing I know about you is that you are brave. See you on the 8th!!
Jo, thank you! See you soon! Fellow brave, Goddess.
Jean, this is something very personal to me. I know this feeling – this fear – well.
Years ago, on a whim, I threw off the masque myself and said, ‘booyah! I’m Batman!’ Well, kind of. It was more like, ‘ha HA! I’m Bruce Wayne!’ Either way, I felt like a tremendous weight was lifted from my shoulders. Until … you know, THAT DAY.
THAT DAY led me to rethink everything. What I’m doing (I’m a therapist!) who I am (I’m just figuring things out!) and why (I’m helping people!).
Legitimate truth is, I AM helping people from all over the place out of Los Angeles. And I’m a pioneer, and people don’t like that in the mainstream. Because pioneers innovate. They change the status quo. They see it needed changing, and they DO it. Despite my experience, training, and education, I’ll never be certified or licensed; the APA doesn’t want someone like me on their roster.
So, I’ll keep on pioneering.
You and I are pioneers, Jean. Best of luck with your creative projects, and better business days and deals. Keep innovating.
Hopefully I’ll run into you at one of those places where we’re bound to cross paths. And you can tell me about that workshoppe for therapists.
Embrace the new you. It’s the real you; the one that’s been hiding in the cocoon.
Doesn’t it feel great to bust out with a brand new set of shiny wings? Forget the haters. It’s fear and envy.
Just keep on keeping on.
Aubryanne – thank you for your letter! I’m touched. Thank you!
No problem. It’s one of those things; gotta stick together and all that.