This has been a topic I’ve been percolating on for a while, particularly since creating this Substack. Done, Not Perfect, is the name of my Substack space, because this year I am trying to embrace the idea of trying new things and letting go of the restricting concept of perfection.
So often, we limit ourselves and hold back from trying new things because we haven’t done them before. Is it a fear of failure? Of not doing something “correctly”? Or perhaps feeling like we don’t have the right to, because it’s not “who we are”.
Starting a Substack? What the? But here I am, writing in a miniscule corner of the internet, and people are reading it. My posts have amassed over 100 views each. 100 views is obviously tiny if you compare it to the wider Substack network, but I’m not doing that. I’m pretty blown away with those stats! Whether or not people read the whole thing is another question (for which I don’t really want the answer haha).
Anyway, I started a Substack to have an outlet for my thoughts, and so that I could feel like I was being productive whilst not in employment. Write a post, one tick off the to-do list. 📝 And, as is often the case with these things, the more I write, the more invested I become. Hopefully I’m starting to hone my skills a little. Rather than write something quickly, have a quick glance over it and press publish without a second thought, I’ve found myself reading over it a few times, leaving a few hours between writing and and re–reading, and a couple more hours until I actually publish the thing. Does that mean that every post herein is closer to perfection? Hell no! But hopefully it does feel a little more polished.
Anyway, the point of this post was not to defend my taking up space on Substack, but to reflect on how our fear of something can keep us confined and prevent growth. It’s easy to stop yourself trying something new because of the fear you won’t be any good at it, or there are people that can do it better, or you’ll fail. But the growth comes from trying it anyway. It might be scary, but if you don’t try it you’ll never know.
Taking centre stage
To start with a big one for me: public speaking. Absolutely hate it. Terrified. What on earth would I say? Why would anyone listen? The idea of it alone would make me clam up. But then in 2023, my dad died unexpectedly. And so, there was a funeral.
I’ve often thought that it’s such a shame how few women speak at their own wedding (although something I’m seeing change for the better nowadays). And I found myself deliberating for a few weeks over whether or not to speak at his funeral. The idea of it was terrifying, but the overwhelming feeling was that I had to do it, no matter how much it scared me. A couple of minutes feeling uncomfortable, or a lifetime of regret wishing I’d done it? And so I got up there after both of my brothers had spoken. I stood in front of a crowd of more than 100 people, and read my speech. I’d been crafting it in my mind for weeks, but only put the words down on paper the night before. I didn’t practise it aloud. In many ways, there was no pressure to deliver a fantastic eulogy, because it was my dad’s funeral. Who on earth would judge me if I wasn’t a brilliant speaker? Only awful people! So I got up there, without my glasses on so that I couldn’t make out individual faces, and opened up with an unhinged impression of my secondary school tutor: my dad used to enjoy my nasal impersonations of him and it became his regular greeting to me on phonecalls. ‘Ahhhh, Georgina. Why are you late?’ Anyway, I managed to elicit a few laughs from people during the course of the speech, as well as a round of applause at the end. I’m so proud of myself for doing it (and of my brothers who spoke before me). Did I enjoy it? Of course not! It was my dad’s funeral. But am I glad I did it? Beyond words.
Later that year, I was asked by one of the most senior people at work to present at various staff conferences. At first I baulked at the idea, but recognised that he wasn’t really a person I should say no to. I admitted the idea terrified me, but that if I could manage my own dad’s funeral, I could manage a couple of hundred estate agents. In both instances, I was a Subject Matter Expert. I was up there for a reason – I deserved the space. So while I may not be a confident speaker, and I still don’t enjoy the idea of speaking in front of large crowds, I will admit that I get a little buzz from it now, especially if I can make people laugh.
It has made me think back to the opportunities in my career I was given to speak, but declined because I was too self–conscious, or didn’t believe I had the right to be up there — too worried about what others would think. That shyness has held me back and limited my progression. I recognised this back in my first year of university, when I was running for Social Secretary for our halls of residence. As part of the campaign, you had to get up in front of your fellow students and deliver a speech about why they should vote for you. I was so far outside of my comfort zone, I didn’t know if I could do it. But I knew I didn’t stand a chance if I didn’t at least try. So how did I approach it? Downed a few vodka and cokes. And I triumphed! 🥂
Hard liquor probably won’t go down too well in a professional setting, but if I only could have built on that confidence over the years, my fear wouldn’t have held me back from big opportunities. Who knows, I could have been a celebrated TED speaker by now if I’d had more confidence back in the day!
It’s the small things
I started off with a big one (nothing as cheery as a funeral, right?) so let me take a large step back now and talk about the joy of spending time by yourself. In public. I don’t mean going out for a walk, going shopping. But spending intentional time by yourself.
Much like public speaking, the first time I went for a coffee by myself I was kind of forced into it. I was selling my flat and had to be out of the house for hours whilst viewings happened. What could I do for such a long time on a dreary October day? My friends were not around, and I didn’t have any money to browse the shops. So, I took myself to a favourite café and enjoyed a tea and cake whilst reading my book. I’d never done it before, because why would I go by myself when I could go with a friend? And wouldn’t people be looking at me, wondering why I had no friends?
I was an immediate convert, and felt very cultured with it, too. (Spoiler: nobody is looking at you or cares about why you’re there alone). That was a decade ago and now I don’t think twice about going out for a solo coffee. Over the years I’ve built those experiences up, too: cinema, the theatre, a glass of wine, and this year, even a solo holiday. Each time I do it, I still feel a little trepidation, which is silly in many respects, because as soon as I do it I feel like I’ve grown as a person. I guess I’m writing this example because I still have many friends that don’t go out and spend time by themselves (by that I mean they choose not to, rather than they can’t).
Queen of the complaint
I think this one is less about my worry about being perfect myself, but expecting a bit more perfection from others. Years ago I wouldn’t dare give honest feedback: perhaps because I’d never seen that modelled by my parents. Much rather just accept poor service/crap food and get on with the day. But one day I had an awful smoothie: grey in colour, thin in texture. And yet I’d ordered the very same smoothie days before and it had been delicious, so I knew that it wasn’t a poor recipe, just poor execution. My friend begged me not to say anything, but if I was going to spend £5 on a drink, I wanted to at least enjoy the bloody thing. They apologised and made me a new one, nay bother. They weren’t offended, I was placated and could actually enjoy my drink.
Since then, my confidence in giving feedback has soared and I very rarely shy away from making a complaint (always politely, I should clarify. Nobody likes a Karen). It’s not to get money off, but to let them know that their service/food/process has fallen short of expectations and is letting them down. I should also clarify that it really depends on the situation: I’m not going to tell Caffe Nero their coffee is bad, or Greggs that their croissants could be better. But it’s the context of expectation in a situation. In most instances, people don’t want to deliver a sub-par service. If they offer me a discount or a subsequent refund, all the better.
In fact, just today, I was given £100 by Santander after I called to let them know that I was not, in fact, dead, and that it was, in fact, my father who was. They know this, of course – he died in 2023 and I’ve been in constant communication with them about it ever since regarding his mortgage. But two weeks ago they sent me a letter (and got my address wrong) in which they described me, twice, as the deceased customer. It didn’t upset me – I’ve been doing deathmin for two years and the amount of shit I’ve had to deal with is far larger in scale than this – but it was frustrating because it was sent from a bank who should be far hotter on their processes. Anyway. I mentioned it as part of a wider complaint last week, and they called back today with their profuse apologies and gave me £100 for the misunderstanding. Sometimes, it really does pay to be a moaning minnie (although I would never have expected financial recompense for this). I do it because I expect better, and I also see it as a way of setting boundaries. I won’t accept this service, and they need to tighten their processes. The NHS is another example (with which I’m sure most people can identify), but advocating for your own health in a system that’s huge, complicated to navigate and extremely underfunded can be burdensome. And yet surely, probably the most worthwhile complaint you can make, if your health or somebody else’s is at risk.
Sometimes it feels like I spend a large portion of my time writing complaint emails, so I do have to pick my battles. But I’m writing this to say: demand better.
Carving your own path
Demand better… That’s what I was doing when I ended a long-term relationship after he cheated. Call me a traditionalist, but I don’t think you should cheat on a partner shortly after you’ve just proposed 💍 (or at any point, let’s be honest). Anyway: ultimately, I made the decision to walk away, believing knowing that I deserved better. A lot of friends called me ‘brave’ at the time. I didn’t feel brave, or excited about the future, or confident that I’d find someone better. That time of my life was one of the toughest, but I found my way through it and came out far stronger the other end. My resilience is ten times stronger for it. And in fact, I’ve pretty much been single ever since: but a large part of that is by choice (the other part, you can blame on the state of dating apps).
In a similar vein, I’ve often left jobs with nothing lined up. The first time I did it, I was a 21-year-old English Lit graduate, slaving away as a waitress at an American-Italian fast food restaurant whilst trying to find my way onto the career ladder. The job was making me physically ill and I had no energy left to apply for jobs I actually wanted. In the lead up to Christmas, I knew I could not summon the enthusiasm to serve raucous Christmas parties and work through Twixmas, no matter how good the tips might be. So, I made sure I had some money saved up, and handed in my notice (with glee). I managed to land my dream job three months later. It worked out well then, and many times since. As a tarot reader told me last year: I’m someone who makes things happen. It’s always worked out well in the past, so I have the self-belief to make it happen again. 🔮
It’s those foundations of belief that mean we can keep going. Try new things, build that confidence, see where it takes you. There are still loads of things I’m scared of (cliff diving, skiing, sky diving… any extreme physical activity, really), but I’d like to think that I will continue to push myself and reap the rewards (sports excluded).
Whether it’s overcoming imposter syndrome, the fear of failure, or being judged: what’s one thing you’ve pushed through the fear of, or is there anything you are too scared to do but wish you could? Let me know in the comments – we can big eachother up!
I enjoyed reading this. ♥️ When you do something new, you push the parameters of your comfort zone. But when you do that new thing often enough you grow and expand. Keep pushing the parameters of your comfort zone Georgina.
Glad you got up on the stage and campaigned for the SS role!