Put yourself out there

On your birthday and every day

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Today is the first day of the last year of my thirties. I’ve been pretty busy, so I almost forgot my birthday was even happening. This is somewhat unusual. Historically, I’ve tended to be a bit ~sensitive~ about it.

Part of the problem is that I find it difficult to say what I want—it’s too vulnerable, too needy¹. Instead I hope that someone will just know and make arrangements.

But most people don’t read minds, and so sometimes what happens is that I become anxious that my birthday will be a big nothing burger, and that this says something about me as a person, so before the day has even arrived, I eat a brookie alone in front of my laptop as a hedge.

Birthday snax, birthday snax

I know it’s not cool to be sensitive about your birthday. But I’m not cool, I’m sensitive. There, I said it. Because if there’s any lesson in this birthday anecdote it’s to put myself out there. Also, that brookies are delicious.

Toot your damn horn

I’ve mentioned it before, but this newsletter is one way I’ve been trying to put myself out there. Every week I enjoy the creative challenge of writing this post on my self-imposed deadline, but once it publishes, I feel a little bit like puking. I’ve kept it up in part to get over the puking feeling.

Also, because I have this notion that risking exposure opens me up to possibilities I’d never encounter just keeping all my writing to myself. Apparently I’m not the only one who thinks this way. The other day I read this post that mentioned something called the “surface area of luck,” or the idea that “your chance of being lucky, is equivalent to the action you take towards your passion, multiplied by the number of people you effectively communicate your passion and activities to.”

This sounded suspiciously not like actual math, but still kinda rang true. But then I started to doubt myself. Maybe I was just looking for signs that putting myself out there was a worthwhile pursuit and not evidence of a midlife crisis.

That is, until a few days later when I saw this similar post. Then I decided that the internet was speaking to me.

What was the internet saying? To keep sharing the things I’m into. Maybe I’ll learn that someone I know, or someone they know, is into them too. Maybe that someone will have a helpful idea or connection for me. Or they’ll just become a mini fan, asking whenever they see me how the hobby/project/midlife crisis is going.

Encourage others when they toot back

Putting yourself out there just to increase your odds of success sounds kind of self-serving, particularly when you consider how BAD it is out there. I don’t entirely disagree, but also think this logic may be a defense against risking vulnerability.

Because putting yourself out there doesn’t just increase your exposure to people who might support you. If you’re really lucky, you get to support them. Someone may relate to what you share (I can’t be the only person who’s a sad sack about her birthday) and find comfort in that.

Or, witnessing you do your thing may give them permission to do the same. Several people have told me that they enjoy this silly newsletter, and even that it’s inspired them to do their own writing, or other project. Whenever this happens, I try to be a mini fan and offer encouragement, because I know how pukey it can feel.

But also just go outside

This brings me to a lesson not from Substack², but from my neighborhood.

I’ve lived in the same place for going on five years, which is longer than I’ve lived anywhere as an adult. Because of this, and because I take daily strolls around the neighborhood, I’ve gotten to know a bunch of people: the empty nesters who love to hold the baby, the woman in need of volunteers for the neighborhood association, the parents always looking to swap tips and stories at the playground.

Besides having a killer step count, this is one of the best things about my regular walks: bumping into people, catching up, discovering some little way we can help each other out.

Exterminate boredom. Also loneliness.

What does this have to do with writing? Maybe nothing. It’s mostly just a reminder to go touch grass. In fact, now I’m thinking about how all I ever really want for my birthday is a gathering with good people. Maybe I’ll invite all my neighbors down to the park. I’ll bring brookies.

1. Which is why I’m burying this down here: In lieu of a birthday text, wish me a HBD in the comments—it’s good for my engagement rate!

2. Despite what you may be thinking, I haven’t completely made it my personality.