My Grand Adventure

I recently went on a grand adventure…to my side patio.

It was my first time plein air painting where I set up my French easel outside. It might as well have been skydiving based on the apprehension with which I approached it. Maybe it’s because I’m an introverted HSP, but trying new, unfamiliar things like this, even if it’s just outside of my house, is scary and intensely stimulating for me.

My ENFP friend is the type who gets an idea and immediately puts it into action. Me, I think about it, then think about it some more, then think about it some more. I think about all the steps and sub-steps to get the easel and materials I need outside—wait, what exactly do I need? Do I need every color? Which brushes? Where will I place the water cup? Where should I set up? What should I paint? Is it going to “work”? Will the sun be in my face? Ugh, I don’t want to put sunscreen on. What if I get hungry? But I don’t want to lose the current lighting. Can my neighbors see me and do they see me out their window? I hate being looked at, especially if I’m doing something unwieldy, and this easel isn’t exactly light and the legs need to be unfolded and bolted. Do I look like I have no idea what I’m doing? Do I look like I do have an idea of what I’m doing when I actually don’t? And the crown of it all: What is the ABSOLUTE BEST system to set up for plein air painting?? I NEED TO KNOW. By which I basically mean, what is the system that is the most discreet and most efficient, yet has everything I need and want and ACCOMODATES FOR EVERY POSSIBLE CONTINGENCY??

Lol. Welcome to my brain.

Despite all that, I really wanted to try plein air painting because I knew it would develop my skills. However, as an introverted HSP, I’m learning I need to take things at my own pace and not feel badly about myself when I am more cautious and operate more slowly than others, while still moving in the direction of growth.

Steps I Take to Resolve Anxiety

Here are some steps I take to resolve the anxiety that might otherwise prevent me from trying new things I actually want to do:

1. Acknowledge and get to know my anxiety. Something I’ve learned in therapy is how to find the “part” inside of me that feels anxious. As I check in with myself, an image comes to my mind’s eye that represents this part. Sometimes it is a younger version of myself. Sometimes it’s even an animal!

Acknowledging the anxiety helps me discover what I’m actually afraid of, which is often some nebulous meta fear of utter failure that means rejection by others that means abandonment that means DEATH. As I realize this, it becomes clear that I’m not in any actual danger, and I can tell my brain to ease up on the adrenaline release. (I hope it’s obvious, that these steps are for helping us do things that are good and helpful, but seem scary. Not genuinely dangerous things.) Then I visualize my adult self comforting and providing the care this part needs and this helps regulate my anxiety.

A lot of times, we push our emotions down, which doesn’t actually resolve them. Ignoring the emotion can cause it to push back harder over time. At first, we can successfully suppress it, but it does take energy to do so; it doesn’t just go away. Imagine how exhausting that is, like a sluggish computer constantly running a million programs in the background to keep itself functioning, and how much better you'd feel if you could declutter your hard drive.

2. Lower the stakes. Identifying the part of me that is anxious also helps me see that I’m operating in a zero sum game of success or failure (yet again), so I redefine what success is. I give myself permission to not get it “right” the first time, or even the second and third times. My automatic impulse is to believe success means absolute flawless execution: I know 100% exactly what I’m doing, I do so efficiently, I don’t waste any materials, I spend x amount of time painting, and I come away with a beautiful masterpiece. If any minuscule particle of “the plan” goes wrong, then I’ve failed…which means rejection, which means…you get the point.

Well, no wonder I’m anxious! To achieve all of that is literally impossible when I’ve been doing something for maybe months, let alone doing it for the first time. Redefining success as simply getting outside with my gear is much more attainable, reasonable, and reduces the tension for me.

3. Ask for the help I need. Maybe that is doing some research, asking someone with more experience for some advice, telling a friend (or my therapist) about my anxiety, or sometimes it’s just telling that inner part of myself that I (my adult mature self) am with them and supporting them.

This might sound simple, but sometimes I forget that I’m allowed to ask questions, that I’m allowed not to know everything. It’s strange how I fear abandonment, yet I believe I must be able to function completely alone—wait, actually, that makes complete sense. What better way to avoid abandonment than to not need anyone else? However, asking for help demonstrates to me I’m not alone, and I have many in my life who love and support me and even find pleasure in helping me; my “neediness” won’t drive them away, and they won’t abandon me even if—gasp—they know I’m not perfect! I am also reminded to think of myself as a learner, which decreases the pressure to perform and therefore my anxiety.

4. Reclaim agency by intentionally choosing to set the anxious thoughts aside. This is different from ignoring them or neglecting them. I acknowledge them and ask them to take a nap, or gently visualize myself placing them in a nice basket to put on a shelf. I’m not rejecting them or judging them, I'm storing them. This restores my agency, rather than letting the thoughts control me.

As you see yourself as the conductor of your own thoughts, it helps reframe the anxiety. When we don’t “see” the thoughts and only feel them, they feel SO BIG AND OVERWHELMING AND THE ONLY THING THAT’S REAL. When we attend to them gently, we can see there are also other thoughts and perspectives as well, and we can wisely choose which ones are appropriate to follow or should be given more or less weight in a given situation.

I maintain hope that painting on my patio is one small step towards one day, busting out my painting supplies in the middle of a wood and confidently rooting myself down for a paint sesh like I am one of the native trees! Here’s to trying new, unfamiliar things and growth in 2021! 🌲