June's Hard Passes and Happy Yeses

This month involved giving myself permission to cry, being direct and assertive about money, and letting go of things.

At the end of each month, I share some of my hard passes and happy yeses for that month, including insight into what’s behind them or the aftermath. I hope that it will encourage some of you to share yours too.

Hard pass to…

Suppressing tears.

I’ve cried a little or felt close to tears several times this month. I don’t cry often. In fact, let me be more specific: I don’t cry very much in terms of expressing frustration, upset, emotion, that’s connected to something I need to process and express at that moment about and for myself.

I cry when I’m watching or listening to something that hits me emotionally, and sometimes I’ve cried when the kids have cried. You know, like sympathy tears because you’re feeling what they’re going through and want to protect them.

But I’ve noticed when I feel upset for myself, when I don’t have something (e.g. a film) or someone else (e.g. the kids) to act as an almost proxy that offers permission and seeming legitimacy to my tears, I kinda sorta start to cry and then automatically catch myself. I have a tendency to go into “buck up” mode and move myself on.

It’s as if my emotional centre has an IFTT (If This Then That) set up where it’s like If Natalie cries for herself, then activate shutdown mode and shut that shit off pronto.

It’s also like I have tear dysmorphia. Outwardly, I’ve welled up a bit, maybe a tear or two’s rolling down my cheek. Inwardly, I get a glimmer of an emotional tsunami, and it’s as if I think I’m showering everyone with tears like one of those American fire hydrants.

Like a lot of people who grew up in an era where crying could not only get you into trouble (“Oh, so you’re trying to make me look/feel bad now, are you?”) but make your punishment worse (“I’ll give you something to cry about!” or open you up to ridicule (“cry baby”, ”too sensitive”, ”drama queen”; “faker”), crying sometimes feels like something other people do. You know, the ones who will get sympathy, compassion, help, or even be let off.

I’ve always had to present as “strong”, “capable”, and “responsible” and received praise from early childhood for being “older than [my] years”.

You know what, though? Why in the frick do I have to wait for someone else to cry or for something on the telly before my tears can flow?

Why am I only “allowed” to cry at the upper end of things (father’s death, feeling shamed and incandescent with rage after being verbalised for the umpteenth time by my mother, a doctor patronising and dismissing me, extreme tiredness or being ill)?

After a stretch of quiet days with tinnitus, it’s been really aggressive these last few days. And then, yesterday, I got my period for the third frickin time this month, which also further cemented my theory that hormones play a significant role in my tinnitus experience.

When the tears emerged and then shut off, I sat with the feeling. I poked it a bit, hoping to catch the feeling before it disappeared (like the tears version of that Seinfeld episode where Kramer runs all over town trying to find a bathroom and then loses the feeling for a week 🤣).

That ‘poking’ was really acknowledging that I wanted to cry, that I had something that needed to be let out, that this tinnitus malarkey sometimes feels so depleting and debilitating (it honestly sometimes brings up a sense of dealing with an unpleasable person), and that actually, if I want to have a good cry, I’m allowed to.

And then I cradled my head in my arms on my desk and sobbed. It felt good.

Happy Yeses

Putting myself out there for speaking gigs (and being assertive about money)

Earlier this year, I mentioned on the penultimate episode of my podcast that something I wanted to explore was doing talks and workshops with schools and companies. I didn’t really know where to start, so I mentioned it here and there, did a couple of panel events, and tweaked the likes of my LinkedIn profile to try to be more “inviting”. And then, in the way I do, I got caught up in other things.

Then, June came along, and I gave a talk at Wimbledon High (a girls’ secondary school). Not long after, I received an email that, honestly, initially, I thought it was dodge, so I ignored it. They emailed again, asking me to speak at a Very Big Company and requesting my rate.

So I replied, but also felt stressy about what to charge. It felt a bit putting-your-finger-in-the-air and plucking a number out of the sky.

I did what felt right and authentic to me: I told them to tell me what the budget was. In doing so, I said no to being passive, winging it, and undercharging, and a happy yes to assertiveness, clarity, and a much better rate.

I share this with you really as a reminder that it’s okay to ask questions. Don’t avoid, for instance, asking for clarity about pay/budget because you’re afraid of appearing “difficult”, “rude”, or endangering an opportunity, and the like. There’s no “opportunity” in getting shafted (or shafting yourself).

Letting go of more things.

I’ve read a couple of books this year (The Secret Life of Clutter and It’s Not Your Money) that have really made me think about my relationship with “stuff” and what feels like a craving to be more organised and, well, lighter. It goes beyond my sorting through my wardrobe and general house stuff; I’m looking at what to do with all the ideas, notes, and things I’ve made (digital and physical).

Rather than feeling overwhelmed, like I’ve tended to in the past, I’m still energised. I suspect it’s because I haven’t pulled apart an entire room (this doesn’t work for me), I’m trying to be more realistic instead of perfectionistic and wanting it done yesterday, and I also have the bandwidth and space in terms of time, energy and effort to invest because of what I’ve already let go (I paused/stopped a lot of work commitments this year, including my podcast, to make space to figure out “what’s next”. I also, ahem, broke up with my mother).

Given what has fast started to feel like the Year of Letting Go, and with some heavy hitters too, I think it would be all too easy, in many respects, to cling. To not want to let go of anything else. Honestly, sometimes it feels like grief is ever-present. Grieving my parental relationships, deaths, my hopes and expectations versus the reality of my publishing experience, my girls growing up and suddenly seeming not that far away from being adults.

But every year is a “year of letting go”; we’re just more acutely aware of this depending on what’s going on in our lives. And, sometimes, life demands that we dig deeper and be the drivers of our letting go rather than it “happening” to us, being imposed upon us, so that we step even further into being more of ourselves and enjoying more fulfilled, joyous lives.

And don’t forget that I have a whole book about The Joy of Saying No.

I’d love to know what you’ve said hard pass and/or joyful yes to this month.