On letting yourself go up in flames

Recently, I was talking to a client who is exploring a significant shift in how she relates to other people.

She’s craving deeper, more authentic connection. She’s realized she has often shown up, in the past, as a more surface-level, cocktail-party-charming version of herself.

But to show up differently — deeper, more authentically…it feels very, very weird.

Like she might take longer pauses after someone spoke, to figure out what she actually wanted to say next, and the other person might think she was strange for taking so long.

Like she doesn’t even know what to share, and how to listen, as this deeper, more authentic, non-charming-cocktail-party version of herself.  

(Can I also say how much I adore my clients? The fact that they undertake this kind of important, scary transformation brings me so much joy + pride.)

…

I always want to respond to my clients’ specific concerns. So, over several sessions, we talked about what she might do: techniques for listening, talking, and staying connected with herself when she is in conversation with others.

But I also try my best to get to the root of the matter. And I told her two things, that I thought might also resonate with you.

Here’s the first one:

Sometimes, ­we need to let ourselves go up in flames, so we can be born again.

This, of course, is an allusion to the Phoenix, from Greek mythology (and, more recently, Harry Potter fame) — which literally sets itself on fire, and is born again, as a baby bird, wobbly and new.

I’m a big believer in the power of slow, iterative change. But I also believe that at least sometimes, the change that is needed will feel like burning the whole thing down and then letting yourself be strange and new and awkward. And that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.

I speak from personal experience.

I have had my own periods of letting myself go up in flames. My most dramatic was in my mid-twenties, when I quit my management consulting job, shaved my head, broke up with my boyfriend, and questioned everything about how I related to my life (how did I want to spend my day? Who did I want to spend time with?). I often felt like I was blowing up my own life — I jokingly-not-jokingly referred to it to my roommates as “ka-boom-ing,” at the time.

And yet, I look back on my courage and choices during that time, as one of the things I am most proud of, in my whole life.

It took an enormous amount of courage to “ka-boom” the whole thing. And two of the things that are most precious to me — my work as a coach, and my relationship with my now-husband — started soon after that time.

I don’t think I could do the work that I do, or have connected with my husband — if I hadn’t let myself become someone new — someone with more depth, complexity, darkness, sadness, self-knowledge, and strength.

So that’s the first thing I wanted to share: Sometimes, ­there is a time to let ourselves go up in flames, so we can be born again.

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Here’s the second thing:

Letting yourself burn down + be born again often feels more dramatic on the inside, than it looks on the outside.

During my mid-twenties conflagration, a big theme for me — like my client, actually — was trying to figure out how I could actually be authentic in interacting with others.

I was questioning my facial expressions — were they authentic? Or just performances?

I was questioning whether I was truly listening when other people spoke. This often resulted in me taking a pause after the other person spoke to process what they said; an odd move, since most conversations involve slightly overlapping talking between the participants.

I was questioning what I said — how could I say what was true, and not what was people-pleasing, or conflict-avoiding.

It was an intense time.  

And yes, sometimes, some people did not enjoy talking with me as much. They found me a little…shall we say…annoying.  

And also: during this time, I remember meeting up with an old friend who was in town for the weekend from Denver. We sat in a park by the Hudson River, soaking up the New York City springtime.

I felt nervous seeing him, because I didn’t seem to be able to “turn off” this strange internal transformation I was undergoing. I told him that I must be seeming kinda… weird.

He looked at me, and shrugged. “You seem a little tired, maybe a little quieter,” he told me. “But otherwise…fine.” 

And…whew.

Whew, what a relief it was to be able to be with this old friend, to be feeling so much, and to have him not actually experience that much of my internal, dramatic, burning-down-and-being-reborn.

It turned out that this was mostly true.

While there were some people who questioned or criticized my choices at the time, most people noticed nothing at all. Some people noticed something — but often, didn’t really care.  

And the people who even now matter the most to me — across the board, they mostly didn’t mind, or notice.

So I’ll say again: letting yourself burn down + be born again often feels more dramatic on the inside than it looks on the outside.

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Is there a radical transformation brewing within you? I hope this helps.

And I’ll also say: it was my work with my first life coach that gave me the courage + insight to take on my own initial transformation. Many of my clients find that working with me gives them the confidence + clarity to undertake their own burning-the-whole-thing-down — if burning-the-whole-thing-down is necessary.

If you’d like to work with me 1:1, learn more here.

As always, I’m rooting for you. You’ve got this.

Katie