Wrestling with the discomfort of learning
Writing course 1, Emma 0
‘Trust me I’m a perfectionist’ was the line under my photograph in my high school year book.
As a self confessed perfectionist I’ve always been pretty bad at learning new things. I was overjoyed to be able to quit swimming lessons as soon as I could swim. I’ve tried, and given up on, countless exercise regimes over the years. There was the pandemic induced exercise bike era, the flirtation with hot yoga (I mostly enjoyed lying down in a hot room) and more recently the uncoordinated stumble in, then out, of zumba.
It usually goes something like this. For one reason or another I decide to give something a go. I’m fairly good at this bit, specially since becoming self employed. In the early days, I get angry and frustrated at myself while mentally running through the long list of reasons why I dislike doing whatever it is I’m doing. There will invariably be some tears. I then either quit in a blaze of glory or rebel in some way and do it ‘my way’.
As I’ve got older this pattern of behaviour has become abundantly clear to both myself and those round me. What I’m not so clear on is why it happens, why I sometimes break the pattern and how to more consciously push through that initial urge and make space for learning.
When it comes to exercise, there are three things that I’ve managed to have breakthroughs with over the years. I was an avid gymnast between the ages of 6 and 12 (see photographic evidence above). As a now almost 40 year old I have very little insight into why that stuck but I did end up with some fabulous lycra and several medals. I like to think that I simply enjoyed it. I have many happy memories of prancing round the garden with a pink ribbon on a stick, something my Mum made me for my foray into rhythmic gymnastics. Maybe I had an encouraging teacher. Maybe my parents wouldn’t let me quit this time. Who knows.
More recently I’ve finally managed to land on swimming and spinning as my favourite two ways to move my body. I think part of the reason for this is that neither involve me comparing myself to others (the lights are off in spin class and our instructor is very forgiving). They also both give me something in return - headspace to work through my constantly rotating thoughts. Identifying this has helped me shift the focus away from how good or bad I am and recognise the benefits I’m getting, both mental and physical.
What I’ve also got better at is knowing that sometimes it is ok to quit. It felt like a very adult moment recently when I officially retired from Park Run. This is something I’ve been half heartedly participating in around once a month, mainly to support my partner to get back into running. Recognising that regularly being lapped by sweaty middle-aged men as I drag myself round a lake at 9am on a Saturday morning just isn’t my thing actually felt good. Life is too short right?!
However, this is not really about my turbulent relationship with exercise - it’s about writing. And as I struggle, yet again, with pushing myself in this space, I’m reminded of where I was this time last year. Attending a residential writing course pushed me out of my comfort zone massively but one particular moment sticks in my mind. Halfway through the course I was asked to go outside and walk around in nature - then write about the experience. I had such a violent objection to this task that I could feel it in my body. I went and sat in an arm chair and ate a banana while everyone else wandered through the grounds listening to the birdsong and running their hands through the grass.
In this situation it payed dividends as I channeled my disdain into my writing and my contribution was honest and true. It also stood out in a room full of annoyingly flowery descriptions of the natural world. In the end, the course had a hugely positive impact on me. I had to work hard to sit with the discomfort and failure I felt at the start of the week but my perseverance paid off and my two most popular pieces on this Substack, talking with strangers and being childfree by choice, were byproducts of that course.
So, here I am, two weeks into another writing course and yet again I’m struggling with learning and pushing myself out of my comfort zone; trapped in a cycle of frustration, paralysis and rebellion. The last two weeks have been hard. I’ve made the time for the course around a particularly stressful work period. I’ve forced myself to sit down and complete the exercises. But the candles, metaphors and poems have pushed me to the edge of my comfort zone on multiple occasions. As such, I have produced nothing so far - hence writing about why I’ve produced nothing. Maybe this is rebellion. Maybe it’s me trying to salvage something out of what feels like a disappointing start. And while it’s tempting to quit, instead I’m trying to focus on the parts of the course that I am finding useful.
For me, that’s the guided questions on Substack that are slowly helping me start to shape what this space could become - more on that next week, and I’ll be asking for your help.
In the meantime I’m going to give myself a break and go for a walk in the sunshine - something I mastered around the age of 12 months and have never looked back.
Thanks for sharing your experience, Emma! I relate to a large chunk of this.
As I read your paragraph on your current writing course, I got to think whether it's the learning part that you're struggling with or the soul-searching and self-awareness that writing requires. I'm pretty sure you don't have a problem with learning new things. Even though I don't know you, I know that you are a designer and that field requires continuous learning (new frameworks, new domains, new tools, etc.).
So, I started to think that it might be the self-knowledge part, as we sometimes don't have mental capacity for it. I've recently completed an executive coach program and before our assessment, we had to write a self-reflective essay about our coaching journey (answering these main questions: Who am I? How do I coach?). Fist of all, I procrastinated. A lot. After I managed to write that 3000-word essay, I felt exhausted. And not because of the writing part. It didn't have to be academic or even good, just self-reflective and that took a lot of energy.
All this to say, it's not a character flaw to have difficulty with summoning up your creativity and being in tune with yourself, especially if the past weeks have been stressful. I really enjoy your writing and I'm rooting for you!