The Faux-Relatability Of Humility

If you don't struggle to believe in yourself, are you really worthy of success at all?

Hi WANT Community! There are a LOT of new faces here this month — whether you found me and WANT via NBC, the Happy Women Dinners tour,

Jessica Murnane

’s Substack, or just a random “self-talk” Google search, I’m so thrilled you’re here. And if you’ve been here for a while, THANK YOU for subscribing and continuing to show up for these conversations that often involve lots of feely words and deep thinks and mentions of Muppets and references to 90s culture. (Fortunately, this one has all that AND MORE!) And, of course, thank-you beyond thank-you to everyone who’s purchased a copy of WANT YOUR SELF and left a review on Amazon or Goodreads. I know you’re not supposed to read reviews, but I’m human, and hearing the ways this work has affected you in your life has been deeply moving to me. Ok, on with the show…

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It’s Thursday night and I’m sitting in a stranger’s living room. This is technically an event to promote WANT YOUR SELF, but to describe it that way feels so watered-down.

I’m sitting in a stranger’s living room, who doesn’t feel like a stranger at all. What’s more, I’m surrounded by 15 other strangers, gathered here to literally break bread together (I say literally because wow that bread is so good), and enjoy dinner + conversation about some of the most deeply intimate parts of our heads and hearts.

I’ve done events like these before, but this particular event is different in that it’s FILLED with writers of all kinds. We have two woman who’ve been in education for the last 40 years, one woman knee-deep in researching her thesis, four who’ve published multiple books, and too many bloggers-of-yore to count (so yes of course there’s much waxing poetic about The Good Old Days Of Twitter and the joys of Geocities circa 2009).

Doing Book Events™️ with writers in the room is always really special. There is a shared language, shared struggles, and a shared recognition of certain truths within the industry’s landscape that lends itself to really nuanced discussions. I think this is probably true for every industry and every hobby — there’s just stuff you notice when you’re IN IT that you don’t when you’re not. And there are seemingly simple questions that pop up that you might not get asked otherwise.

As this particular event is wrapping up and we’ve covered everything you could think of that would come up in a conversation around self-talk, one of the writers in the room asks me how long the book took from inception to publish. I tell her six years from idea and proposal to pub day. I tell her what I’ve shared here with you many times: that half of those years were just pitching agents and refining my proposal, over and over.

She asks: did you ever consider giving up?

I don’t hesitate when I answer: Nope.

I’m not surprised not by my candor.

I AM surprised at the complete lack of self-judgement that comes after.

Because I know that even though we *say* we love someone who gives us the “inside scoop” or “tells it like it is” when it comes to their achievements, the truth is that many of us only love to hear “inside scoop” that involves self-doubt, and only love to be told “it” like “it is” in a way validates our own insecurities.

Giving inside scoop and telling it like it is can be risky when you’re sure of yourself.

Which is probably why so many of us pretend like we aren’t — and then that pretend becomes reality.

THE WAY WE PLAY

If you go by what’s written in all my journals from childhood through teendom, I’ve always wanted to be a writer and performer. One particular entry from eighth grade lists a smattering of professions: a magazine editor, an illustrator, an actor, a singer, a model, an advice columnist…the list goes on.

But if you judged my aspirations by the way I PLAYED, you’d be able to clearly state:

Oh, Katie? She obviously wants to be a talk show host…or recurring guest star on Sesame Street.

You can tell a lot about a kid’s personality by the way they play. I see this in my almost four year-old nephew, and I know this from my own personal experience kid-ing around other kids doing the same.

Early on in WANT YOUR SELF, I write:

You know how people talk about getting back to who you were “before the world told you who to be”? That time during childhood where you felt wild and free and unaffected by society?

I never experienced that. I have no recollection of being wild and free, and none of being unaffected by society. I never really cried as a baby, or so I’m told. I don’t think it was because nothing affected me. It was more like everything affected me. I was too busy observing and soaking in every little detail of the world to waste time on tears. My childhood wasn’t notably traumatic or burdensome—I was just born with a head and heart that cared intensely from Day One. If my default was ever wild and free, I certainly don’t remember it.

This level of care and observation and spongeing up the world extended into the way I played.

The first thing that’s important to know is that my “play” as a kid was different than the way it seemed like other kids played…or at least what *I* thought seemed different than the way other kids played, which is what mattered most to me whether it was true or not.

Don’t get me wrong: I loved my Barbies, and all-caps LOVED my Polly Pockets (I’ve always loved things that aren’t the size they’re supposed to be). My affection for the entire American Girl ecosystem ran so deep that my Instagram and TikTok algorithms now constantly serve me AG nostalgia content that I just can’t resist (if you haven’t seen the video of the Millennial mom receiving a Molly for Christmas, you’re welcome, and also, I’m sorry for cueing the waterworks out of nowhere).

here i am as samantha in the american girl fashion show in santa barbara when i was 9 or 10, you’re welcome

But my play was very rarely pretend-feeling. I didn’t pretend-march my Barbies around creating pretend-voices for them as they gossiped with each other at the pretend-bus-stop I manufactured out of the legs of my desk chair. I dressed them up meticulously, crafting their mini-world with care. I talked to them — and envisioned their voices talking back to me. As someone who anthropomorphizes literal yogurt cups (see here), this is unsurprising. And also, didn’t feel like pretend. That kind of play, to me, just felt like life.

The second thing that’s important to know is that I watched hours and hours and HOURS worth of Sesame Street when I was a toddler. Like, my brain wants to tell you that I watched “seven straight hours a day,” but that feels impossible for the late 80s early 90s, unless my parents literally videotaped every episode on our VCR so they could have them at the ready once the regularly scheduled Sesame Street would end. (Which, honestly, doesn’t sound like something they’d not do...)

Did I love to learn new things because I watched so much Sesame Street…or did I watch so much Sesame Street because I loved learning? Could I access my deepest feelings so easily because Big Bird and his friends taught me how, or did I love this Jim Henson universe so much because they seemed to speak my language? Probably the latter, but it could’ve definitely been the former. Probably some combination of the two.

The show’s formula was seared into my brain very early on:

• An overarching theme or lesson throughout the entire episode, with “street scenes” on THE iconic Sesame Street itself to anchor the almost infomercial-style short segments interspersed throughout the hour-long episodes.

• The street scenes usually featured a mix of puppet “main characters” like Big Bird and Oscar the Grouch to get you invested in the theme or lesson, and human “supporting characters” like Gordon and Maria to help move along the theme or lesson.

• The segments were a mixture of songs, live-action shorts, and cartoons. But each piece of the puzzle fit together within that overarching theme or lesson, and contributed to an overarching feeling you’d walk away with after an hour.

I’ve now taken in enough Sesame Street think-pieces and documentaries to know that this was extremely intentional. The creators cared deeply about helping kids learn and be prepared for not just school, but life.

I can draw a direct line from my early over-saturation in Sesame Street to my absolute favorite kind of “play” when I was a kid: creating “TV shows.” I would direct and produce talk shows with my little brother, each with multiple segments and guest stars and songs to teach you something. I co-hosted a cooking show called The Wonders Of Cooking with my friend Rachel which we filmed with our parents’ camcorders, complete with elaborate and surprisingly well-though-out commercial breaks. (You will need to trust me when I tell you these shows were actually epic.)

Whether it was getting in front of a camera or audience or it was carrying on a conversation with my Samantha doll, my play always had a PURPOSE. It always ended with a lesson. ALWAYS. Even my cooking show alter-ego, Betsy Bayke (my intro always began “that’s b-a-Y-k-e”), was known for being the slightly awkward motivational foil to Rachel’s comedically earnest Candyce Cooke (“that’s c-o-o-k-E”).

None of this felt pretend to me, even though I *logically* knew it was. I was fully committed to the bits. All-in. And playing didn’t feel fulfilling to me unless someone — an audience member, a viewer, a doll — could learn something.

And what’s more, I can draw a direct like from my favorite kind of “play” to my life as an adult now.

I mention all of this now because last week marked two very personal milestones for me: my tenth live in-studio TV segment on NBC News Daily, and my thirteenth live in-studio TV segment total (13 is my lucky number, so this feels really special). There is something about being live and INSIDE a studio with other people that is just next-level magic to me. And NBC? Are you freaking kidding me? I am a child of the 90s. Friends. Will & Grace. Katie Couric. Ann Curry. Must-See-TV Thursdays! That peacock and those *ding-DING-ding* chimes have my Millennial heart. Just one feels like a gift. Ten feels like Christmas Day.

the big one-oh! tap/click to watch the whole thing. a very timely segment, imo.

I’ve known for so long that I’ve wanted to do this; to talk about self-talk on a set with a mic next to other people while a camera is broadcasting to who knows who in who knows where.

But it wasn’t until I actually began doing it that I realized how much I’d wanted it all along…and hadn’t fully allowed myself to embrace that wanting until now.

And the kicker — the part that I really *facepalm* to admit to myself — is that I’d been holding myself back NOT by the fear of messing up or it not happening, but by the fear of what comes when you are so sure of who you are, and are so sure out loud.

The fear of it happening and people thinking, how dare she not doubt herself.

(INNER)STRUGGLE BUS.

I’m human, so of COURSE I experience self-doubt. It’s a myth that it ever goes away. I’ll never forget my first speaking gigs after launching WANT. I wasn’t prepared for everyone I met to want to be talking about self-talk. When I was invited to speak at a Women In STEM conference, I laughed and joked to Jeremy that “they removed the A (arts) from STEAM” so what business did I have talking to a bunch of scientific tech engineering mathematicians? He reminded me that I was being asked to talk about my specialty, not theirs. Turns out, there is a LOT of negative self-talk for women in STEM. I told my doubt to “hold my beer”(I rarely drink beer) and the workshop I led was a hit.

To think that self-doubt, ambition, and confidence live in separate universes is such a huge myth. It’s not about not experiencing the hard feelings, it’s about making your turnover rate as quick as possible. The time from which you experience the tough feeling to the time you move forward proactively through it as quick and efficient as possible. It’s been eight years since that STEM conference and now, after a LOT of practice, I’m usually able to go from “oh shit, I’m here to be what I think they probably want me to be” to “hell yeah, I’m here to be as ME as I can be” pretty quickly. This helps me not only go after what I want, but soak it in once I’m there. There’s a saying that “it’s either a win or a lesson,” and that’s nice and all, but it’s really really hard to think of something as a “lesson” when you’ve been stuck in the Shoulds from day one. Honestly, it’s hard to think of something as a “win” too. A “win” and a “relief” are two very different things.

the feeling of relief, as dramatized by elmo.

Ambition is still a semi dirty word, and women celebrating their accomplishments out loud is still risky business. God forbid we want things, then get them, then TALK about them?! Get outta here. Humility has been extolled as a virtue to such an extreme for so long, that even a full era of Girlbossing come and gone couldn’t undo the vast tunnels of self-deprecating humor and forced modesty that keep our systems running just so.

And yet. There ARE feelings that arise when you do things you’ve always dreamed of doing. Even for the most self-assured of us who’ve internalized that confidence is NOT synonymous with narcissism or vanity experience them, because of course we do. Again, we’re humans, not robots. Feelings like…

• …incredulousness that you actually get to do the thing.

• …wondering if you’re a one-hit-wonder or a repeat success.

• …questions of if you’re as ready as you can be, and relief when you realize you are.

And of course, there’s other people’s opinions of what you’re doing, and if you’re not careful, even you run the risk of thinking about The Thing through the mental and emotional lens that other people are thinking about The Thing. (for lots of examples around this, you can check out this essay I wrote a few Substacks ago about defining success specifically and for yourself)

With all of the confidence — neé SELF-TRUST — that resides in my head and heart doing SO much work around self-talk for literal decades, I am still incredulous at those personal milestones I mentioned above. Not because I don’t believe I’m worthy, and not because I can’t believe these shows would want to have me on. I am still baffled at the fact that it all feels so NATURAL. That I go into the studio and hug the crew. That the team says “great to see you again” or “always a pleasure” without me reminding them that we’ve met before. That I walk on set with the electric sparks of “I hope someone sees this and it helps them in some way,” not the electric shocks of “Oh god, I hope I don’t fuck up.” Which feels taboo to say. A small piece of me still thinks: You should put on airs. You should say that you get throw-up-in-a-trash-bin-offscreen nervous every single time. That’s what’s relatable, Katie. And you’ve GOT to be relatable.

But that does such a deep disservice to where I hope people can go in their lives and what they can accomplish.

And is SUCH a slap in the face to every single adult who was once a kid, whose natural instincts of “play” brought them to the moment they’re in.

When “relatability” only resides in the tough stuff and imposter syndrome, what does that say about the things that come naturally?

Are you still hashtag-relatable if you’re not on the (inner)struggle bus?

THE CARING OF IT ALL.

This is NOT to say that going after what you want in life isn’t hard. It sure as hell is. There are so many obstacles in the way. There is a reason it took six years to get WANT YOUR SELF published, and a reason why three of those years were spent just trying to find an agent who wanted to take a chance on this book. Heck, if we’re really going there, there is a reason I was single for half a decade before meeting the man who ultimately became my husband. Shit is hard.

Rarely do the things we want come without obstacles. But the more life I live, the more I’m certain of one thing: there are so many things that can and will get in my way, but I refuse to be one of them.

I thought for a really long time about writing this piece, because writing it would mean admitting that I’ve felt so in my element lately that I run the risk of being a total turnoff. My earliest self-talk stories come to mind. What you put out into the world is for other people to comment on and celebrate, but not you. Never you. Don’t recognize your accomplishments and don’t you dare appreciate your own successes. Or if you do, well, you better make sure that people know you never expected to be here.

But I think it’s important to share this, because the feelings I’m feeling now are feelings I wished for SO LONG to have — and are feelings I hear that so many other people wish to have, too.

cool calm collected prepping for segment no. 14 in austin while on book tour. it ain’t glam but you bet it’s the dream.

The dreams we dream aren’t coincidental, and definitely don’t come out of nowhere. If you look back at your earliest instincts, you’ll probably see threads of what you’re called to now. When things feel more natural to you than you thought they would, it can feel like an uh-oh moment — like you’re forgetting something important, or should be way more unsure of yourself if it’s something that really matters. So many of us are told, after all, that stuff like imposter syndrome or fear “just means that you really care.”

I mean, yeah, sure, those feelings come up, sometimes. But they’re not the ONLY feelings that signal that something matters to you. They are NOT the sole markers of how much you care or not. Living in a state of uncertainty or fear is unsustainable if what you’re after is something lasting.

BREADCRUMBS.

When the writer at Thursday night’s event asked me if I ever considered giving up, I gave her my honest answer. And I also told her that “choosing to keep going” wasn’t the hardest part by far. I shared the actual hard parts, which were the disappointments and the wonderings when this would ever happen for me and if it would happen the way I hoped it would. But to stop altogether? It was never an option. Because I KNEW I had it in me.

I share this with fellow writers all the time, but I think it’s relevant for non-writers too. If you know you have something in you, the choices aren’t necessarily just “stop” or “keep going.” They might be “fight for the initial vision” or “pivot along the way.” They might be “press pause” or “plow through.” But STOP, cold-turkey? That’s a decision that, for me, wouldn’t have come from logistics or circumstance. If it had, it very well might have been the right decision. But for me, in those six years? The decision to STOP would have come from a lack of self-trust. Completely antithetical to everything I fight for, teach about, and aim to practice myself. I could have told that writer I considered stopping. But I think writers — and people — deserve to have this idea of “believing in themselves” normalized.

I’ve been writing “books” since before I could actually write, have been on stages since my preschool graduation, have been coaching others since I had heart-to-hearts with Samantha Parkington, and have been imparting lessons to audiences (real or imaginary) since my Sesame Street informed shows. I’ve done some version of all those things listed in my early journal entry, and more. Some on a bigger-to-me scale, some on a smaller-to-me scale, but I’ve done ‘em. If I look back, I have very little reason to be unsure of myself. I’ve been practicing my whole life.

And it’s not just me.

I bet you’ve also been doing something you’re doing now since way back when.

If you feel like something you excel at is random, it’s probably not because it’s actually random — it’s probably because you haven’t been paying attention to the links and breadcrumbs you’ve left for yourself along your journey.

Confidence is not synonymous with vanity, and being perpetually unsure doesn’t make you “down to earth.” If we want to live in a world where confidence is normalized, we need to let go of this idea that it isn’t normal. If we want to allow ease in, we’ve got to stop defaulting to struggle. “Relatable” is only relatable if there are others to relate to.

So when it feels so natural to do something that you’re in disbelief at how natural it feels to do it, the lesson I will leave you with from today’s episode is: lean into what you’ve been rehearsing all along.

Trust that your past self was onto something.

next up at 5, author katie horwitch with all the feelings, after this short commercial break.

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WANT YOUR SELF: In the comments, let me know — have you ever held yourself back because you’re afraid that you won’t be “relatable” enough? OR, is there something that comes naturally to you now that you can link to a way you “played” as a kid? Did you craft outfits for your dolls, and you’re now in fashion? Did you take extra special pride in organizing your toys in a certain way and you now build systems or organize data (or homes?!)? Were you a fellow fan of mini things and now work with something teeny-tiny? I LOVE these links and can find so many in my life that I didn’t even touch upon in this piece, so let me know!

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SOME LAST LINKS

The incredible Victor Imbimbo invited me on his Bounce Back podcast aimed at family caregivers, which is something very close to my heart. LISTEN HERE

Author Terri Trespicio on the WANTcast all about UNfollowing your passion! SUCH a good listen for the new year. LISTEN HERE

This segment from WE ARE AUSTIN was the one I was prepping for in the above pic and omg I arrived and all but screamed when I saw the GIANT BOOK ON SET?! WATCH HERE

My friend Kate Van Horn’s book is almost here…and you might see a familiar face on her tour next month ;) PREORDER HERE

Never not obsessing over

Anne Helen Petersen

so yes I am still obsessing over the new

Culture Study

pod and loved this Mean Girls episode. LISTEN HERE

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I’m currently booking my 2024 speaking engagements — if you’re looking for a keynote speaker, workshop facilitator, or panelist for your company/organization/event, let’s chat. GET IN TOUCH

Buy WANT YOUR SELF: Shift Your Self-Talk and Unearth the Strength In Who You Were All Along on Amazon, Bookshop.org, B&N, Audible, or Kindle

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