A few years ago, after years of mostly working and hanging out at home, I decided I needed some new hobbies- especially the kind of hobby that would get me out of the house and in to the fresh air and sunshine. I settled on, among other things, golf.
Aside from the occasional mini golf outing and a couple of trips to Top Golf, I never really played. I didn't even own clubs. But I was excited to give it a shot. I had a feeling that grabbing a bucket of golf balls at the driving range would be a perfect way to relax and get outside.
After an infuriating series of problems getting my first clubs, I was ready to go try them out. I put them in the back of my car one early morning and drove the few blocks to my nearest range. I pulled in to the parking lot and promptly turned around and went home.
I had gotten up incredibly early so as to be the very first person there. When I noticed that several people had still managed to beat me to the driving range, I panicked. This was my first time going alone, with my own clubs, to hit balls. I knew I was going to look like I didn't know what I was doing (because I truly didn't) and I felt paralyzed by my insecurity. I just couldn't bring myself to go look stupid in front of seasoned golfers.
I wouldn't even have another person or persons there with me to joke around with about how silly I look. I would just look like a guy in his mid-30's who owns golf clubs but doesn't know how to use them.
I didn't even get out of my car. I turned around and drove home.
I spent the rest of the day grappling with my disappointment about not doing the enjoyable activity I had been looking forward to and with the realization that my anxiety about looking stupid had kept me from something I really wanted to do.
What else was the risk of looking stupid keeping me from doing? How much worse is my life because I don't want to feel bad for not being good at something new?
It inspired me to re-watch a video I had been exposed to awhile back about this very topic- the benefits of nurturing a growth mindset versus a more limiting fixed mindset (linked at the end of the post).
I was reminded that looking competent, talented, and smart requires learning and development. In almost all cases, we have to start at the beginning, which means we won't be good.
The best of the best at most anything are just further along on the spectrum of sucking at things. They've made the most mistakes and kept going. They've spent the most time looking stupid until they've mastered their craft.
It is only by finding our limits that we can expand them. At the frontiers of our ability is frequent failure but also improvement.
Billy Joel has probably missed more notes in a week of practice than I have ever played in my life. He is THE Piano Man and I can barely play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
Steph Curry has likely missed more 3 point shots this week than I've ever taken but he's the best 3-pt shooter of all time and I couldn't get picked first in a pick up game among 6th graders.
These musings helped me to re-commit myself to embracing that anxiety about looking stupid. Sort of re-framing the mastery of THAT skill- to persist at a new thing despite looking stupid- as the most important and confidence giving.
I went back to the driving range the next morning and let myself look silly for a while. I watched some self-help golf YouTube videos in front of everyone and had a great time. I still suck at golf but it was definitely as fun and relaxing as I thought it would be.
I periodically remind myself of this experience when confronted with other things I suck at, like:
Keeping myself from emotionally withdrawing when my girlfriend hurts my feelings
Initiating difficult conversations
Apologizing when I've done something wrong
Making better eating decisions
Practicing skills in front of colleagues
Writing blog posts
And many other things
It's a willingness to honestly assess and accept my deficiencies, humbly learn, and vulnerably tolerate the path of improvement that will ultimately make me a better boyfriend, lover, therapist, athlete, writer, and just all around person.
What could you actually become great at if you could overcome that reluctance to stumble through the early phases of mastery?
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