For the last year, I’ve been sitting with the idea of holding my own hand—of being my own support for the things I want do.
The idea came to me as I drove to a gardening client’s house last summer.
I’d been searching for someone to help me learn how to update drip irrigation systems with no luck.
That morning, it dawned on me I could hold my own hand through the process.
A sense of relief rushed in.
I could help myself instead of looking for someone else to help me.
I want to be clear. I’m a fan of connection and support and for each of us to be receive what we need from other people. Biologically, we’re hardwired for that connection. It’s essential for our survival.
But, there’s a paradox at play here. We can become overly reliant on others, give our power away, and feel like we’re deficient without other’s support, approval, love.
We need both external support and internal support.
We need to be able to ask for help and to receive it.
We also need to help ourselves and to believe in our capacity to figure things out.
I haven’t thought about the idea of holding my own hand for a while, but it came back up while trying to move a house project forward.
Last year, an idea for a house project came to me. I started exploring if it would be possible to turn a nook in our bedroom into a linen closet. This would solve two problems—it would extend a wall we need extended, and it would give me a built-in place to store our linens.
My husband and I had some back and forth about this project—he cares more about painting; I care more about the closet.
I spent a few months looking for contractors, and I found two that seemed like they could handle both the painting and the closet.
The first one stopped responding to my messages after he came over to see the job and didn’t send me an estimate, so he wasn’t an option after all.
The second contractor sent me an estimate of hours, and I vetted him by talking to a reference. He was responsive and seemed eager to get started on the job. But, issues came up as soon as we scheduled the job.
After we moved everything out of our bedroom, creating chaos in our adjacent spaces, the project was delayed multiple days.
When the job finally started, it job progressed extremely slowly, so we decided we’d finish the job ourselves—meaning I would most likely finish it myself.
But then we started thinking about the different people we’ve worked with in the past who might be able to help us.
I left a message for a painter we’d used in the past and had mostly liked. At least we knew them even if I wasn’t thrilled with their work. They were the first painters I ever hired, so now I could be more specific about what I wanted.
I also contacted a friend for the number of a contractor who did some work on our basement bathroom. After working with many other contractors over the years, his work seemed good enough in comparison.
I didn’t hear back from the painter or the friend, so we decided to tackle the painting ourselves. My husband did some YouTube research about painting, and he bought some new supplies to make the job go smoother and quicker.
Then the painter called me back, and we set up a time for him to see the job a few days later. The meeting went well, and I learned he’d also started to doing remodeling, so he could handle the linen closet job as well. I was excited and even started dreaming of some possibilities for how to improve our main bathroom.
We decided to let the painter do the work, so we could focus on other projects, and my husband returned all of the new painting supplies he bought.
A week later, I hadn’t heard back from the painter, so I reached out to him asking about our estimate.
Three weeks later, I still hadn’t heard anything, so I decided to take the job back. I would do the painting myself, which I have done before, but I hesitantly also considered learning how to build out the linen closet.
I can’t help but think that maybe these projects were always mine to do, and that’s why getting help with them never worked out. After all, I’ve been wanting to learn how to do more involved house projects, but I’d hoped I’d find someone to show me what to do.
Maybe instead, I’m meant to hold my own hand, to accept the assignment as my own, and to learn what I need to learn to do it.
In the past, I’ve let my perfectionistic tendencies take over projects. The projects weren’t fun because I put extra pressure on myself to make them perfect, I took them so seriously that fun couldn’t exist, and I went so slowly that I was sick of them by the time I finished them.
Can I approach these projects with the focus on learning and completing them fun and joy?
I’m prepping things to start up painting next week, so I don’t yet know how it will go. I picked up some extra inspiration from a coaching course I’m taking—the idea of approaching this project and other challenges from a place of wholeness.
If I approach painting from wholeness, it’s feels a lot more doable. I’m not in a deficit trying to prove myself. From wholeness, I’m capable, and it can unfold as it needs to. I don’t have to know everything from the beginning. I can learn as I go.
The same thing with the linen closet. If I approach it from wholeness, I can do research with limits, so I don’t spend endless hours in preparation instead of working on the project. I can take small steps and learn each piece as I go. I can anticipate that there will be challenges and that I will make mistakes, but I can choose to see them as a part of the learning process instead of a reflection on my worthiness or intellect.
I’ve gathered my supplies, but what I know what I truly for this project to be successful is to go easy on myself and to hold my own hand.
Besides completing the project, I know I need to learn how to enjoy each step and to be open to what I learn along the way. There’s no way to predict how it will go or what I will learn, but I’m glad I’m moving forward. It’s sure to teach me something.
A Note About Today’s Post
I shared today’s post because of an email my friend Katrina shared with me about Presence Over Performance by Laurie Wagner, creator of 27 Powers.
In the email and blog post, Laurie shares the story of Rosemary, who decided it was more important for her poetry to contain the truth than for it to be good.
“In the Wild Family, I tell people we already love you as a way to help them to relax into the sound of their own ordinary, beautiful voice. A way to remind them to stop aiming for the gold ring, and stay present to where they are and to write from that place – which is always where the truth lives.” —Laurie Wagner
What if we could all come back to this place and create and share from, "We already love you" and you have nothing to prove?
What if your job is to share the truth that's inside you? That's it.
That’s how I want to show up and share—with the truth and nothing else.
Upcoming Ways to Connect
I’m offering bi-weekly Online Co-working Wednesdays this fall.
It’s a chance to:
Connect
Do focused work on a creative or other project
Get started on something you've put off
Build some momentum
Celebrate any size win
We will start with a brief grounding exercise and/or stretching. We'll say hello and name what we're working on (if you want.)
Then, we'll jump in and work in sprints on whatever is asking for your attention—or perhaps what you've been resisting or putting off.
We will come back together to celebrate wins and give each other a virtual high 5!
To join us, sign up for the What About Hope Meetup Group and RSVP for an upcoming event.
I’m also considering offering group coaching to work through creative blocks. Hit reply if you’re interested, and we can chat.
In the meantime, amazing humans, may you unapologetically share your truth! The world needs you to be you and to share you!
Much Love,
Joanna Zaremba
Joanna is a multi-passionate woman of many interests, quirks, passions, desires, wants, joys, ideas and more. You can find out more about her at www.joannazaremba.com.