“Stop saying no for comfort’s sake.”

I wrote that sentence three years ago as part of a silly magazine exercise. It was titled “my warm-up list for leaving the comfort zone,” and if I remember correctly the premise was to use the list to prompt trying new things intentionally instead of clinging to comfortable habits.

At the time the simple sentence didn’t seem all that profound. But I remember how often I turned down invitations or didn’t try a new food or watch a movie or read a book because I didn’t want to be uncomfortable. I didn’t want to waste my time watching a movie if I thought I wouldn’t like it. I didn’t want to go to a party if the only person I knew was the host. I didn’t want to go anywhere by myself. Even grocery shopping.

It’s almost as though writing that sentence was a way of setting a new rule for myself. I would no longer be allowed to say no to things if the only reason was that I didn’t want to be uncomfortable. It was my way of embracing discomfort as an essential part of making new friends, seeing new places, of expanding my horizons.

Risk-taking had already been a part of my makeup, but writing that sentence made me aware of its inherent discomfort and begin to actively seek it.

Since my last post I have been asking myself why I am so prone to depressive tendencies. I figure, if I can answer the why then maybe I’ll discover the how. How do I tame the depressive tendencies? How do I control them instead of letting them control me?

But the how requires the why — the root, the core. There’s no controlling or taming without understanding the origin or motivation.

So why do I get so down? Some of it, as I’ve written before, comes from my being an extrovert who spends so much of the day alone. Last week I had a planning meeting at 7 p.m. and when I got there, my colleagues asked me what was wrong. “You’re so quiet,” they said. Indeed, I was more mellow than my usual self. “This is what happens when I don’t speak all day,” I said.

But I have gone through the ebb and flow of this workstyle for several years now and I know how to cope. Mostly.

There must be something deeper.

Why do I wallow in the depressive tendencies day after day? Because there’s no work — or not enough work — and without work there’s no money. And without the money there’s anxiety that requires time being spent looking for the work to get the money. Time spent looking for work to get the money means less time to do things I really want to be doing. Like taking more risks and writing about it. Telling stories that inspire women to embrace who they really are. Helping other women take more risks in life.

But it’s almost like I’m not allowed to do those things unless there is the work and the money. When I explained this to my friend Sarah, she reminded me of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. This is exactly what I am talking about. The stuff I want to pursue is at the top of the pyramid and unless the base is taken care of I am not allowed to pay attention to the top and the things I really want to be doing get neglected. Always pushed to the bottom of the to-do list.

Spending time doing those things without the work and the money is a risk. And I need to give myself permission to take that risk.

I haven’t been writing much lately, for the blog at least, because I’ve been depressed. And I don’t think that people want to read depressive tendencies all the time. So I have been trying to think about positive things to blog about. Which is why I put up the last post about lessons from Anne Lamott because she’s so damn positive. I mean, she’s not positive all the time. She talks about the shitty stuff of life, but only to come out on the positive side of the shit. I don’t know how she does it.

But then I read Penelope’s blog today (do you like how I talk about her as if I know her?), and she was saying how people don’t want to read someone writing about having life figured out. And she must be right because that’s why I read her blog. She doesn’t have life figure out and she writes about the shitty stuff of life and makes me feel like at least I’m not the only one with depressive tendencies.

And, know what? That is exactly why I want to write. To be honest about life and how hard it is sometimes. Because, frankly, I think people are too fake too often. We walk around asking each other how we are doing and we say “fine” or “I’m good” with a smile and a nod.

But if you think about it, what am I supposed to do when some one says, “how are you doing?” and I am NOT fine? Am I really supposed to say, “well actually I have been crying every day because I feel helpless and worthless because there’s a good chance that I won’t get paid this month and I can’t seem to get steady business or any business for that matter and I can’t get this project to come together and I can’t seem to do a damn thing right and I can’t figure out what the hell is wrong with me”?

No. We are civilized and when someone asks how we are doing, we say “I’m good, thanks. How are you?”

This past Saturday I had the distinct honor to hear, see, meet and ask one of my favorite writers to sign my book. The lecture series that she was a part of will feature some other pretty rad people in the coming months, so if you are into that kind of thing check it out.

In the meantime, here are some random bits that I took from hearing Anne speak. (Side note to people who know me: please remind me of this post when I have one of my proverbial depressive tendencies.)

We can only handle short assignments.
Create one day at a time.
No one knows what they are doing.
No one knows much about God.
Be willing to be really bad.
Perfectionism = the voice of the oppressor.
The most precious thing you can be is who you were meant to be.
Laughter is carbonated holiness.
Anything creative comes from a mess.
All our suffering is mental.
Learn to change the channel in your mind.
Writing is a radical act.
The opposite of faith isn’t doubt, it’s certainty.