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Publishing this Fear, Exposed series has really made me realize how fast time flies; I feel like I’m constantly hopping on here to say, “And now, ladies and gentleman, what you’ve all been waiting for…..yet another Fear, Exposed!”  But let me tell you what; I must admit, I am consistently inspired by each and every contributor, and am so glad that what started as an off the cuff idea, has transformed into a source of real inspiration for so many of you.

This week’s contributor, Tricia Karp, has one hell of a story and I’m so happy to be hosting her.  I stumbled across her website once, and it was the first time that I just HAD to drop everything and read every article she had published–she’s incredibly intelligent and engaging.  And for good reason–Tricia has hand-crafted a career for herself teaching others how to find their voice.  She’s the perfect example of how you can transform something you love into more than a passion, but a full-fledged biz-nass.  And we tend to like that around here.  ;)

So without further ado, I’ll let Tricia have the mic.  Give her a warm welcome.  And stop staring at how amazing her photo is.  Is that not snazzy or what?

Note to self: Wear more lipstick.  Also, stop eating so much pizza.  That wasn’t really related, but it’s equally valuable advice, considering my growing waistline.

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*****

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In The Presence of Fear

I’ve been to prison. There, I said it.

Nearly ten years it took for me to speak those words publicly.  Nearly ten years to mine the courage.  Nearly ten years of being wracked by fear, worrying what people would think of me.

Overtaken by fear

It was fear that led me to the lock-up.  Far from being a criminal, I was a very good girl.  A pleaser. A driven, successful career woman too, with a job as a prime time TV journalist that many envied. I fell in love (truly, I did not step in, carefully watching where I was placing my feet, but fell) with a very bad boy.  A drug smuggler who played a dicey and dangerous game for million-dollar plus rewards.  Under his spell, I left my entire life behind (including my fiance) to move to the other side of the world to live with him.  Eight weeks later I ended up behind bars.

I’d hopped on an international flight with my boyfriend and one of his female friends.  They were both wearing body packs of drugs.  I wasn’t.  I cleared customs and waited outside the airport for them.  For far too long.

They were caught.  As I was walking towards a taxi (finally, finally I’d decided to leave), a customs officer ran towards me, asked to see my passport, and instructed me to follow him back inside the airport.  A few hours later, I’d been charged with a federal offence and checked in for the night at the police station cells.

The bottom line: It happened because I didn’t speak my concerns.  That my boyfriend trafficked drugs was a ridiculously stupid idea, I thought, but I never told him that.  I kept my mouth shut because I was too worried that he wouldn’t like me any more if I didn’t see it his way.  I let the fear win because I couldn’t imagine life without him.  I was a downtrodden doormat. Fate conspired.  I went to jail.  For 12 days.

Shock Cancels Out Fear

Ironically, I didn’t feel any fear while I was in prison.  Shock? Absolutely. Never had I imagined I’d end up there, wearing secondhand green track pants with cigarette-burn holes in them, being regularly strip searched, sharing a bunk with a heroin addict and then a woman convicted of threatening a taxi driver with a knife, or  feeling such immense gratitude for a tiny chocolate Easter egg offered by a visiting Salvation Army lady.

In ways I still find difficult to explain, in the place of fear stood relief.  Somehow I figured I didn’t need to play the good girl in my life any more.  I felt lighter, as though I’d been let off the hook of striving for perfection.

(Just in case you’re wondering, the charge against me was dropped because I didn’t actually do anything illegal.  I don’t have a criminal record.)

The Return of Fear

With my dark secret shoved down and safely tucked away from the world’s eyes, a four-and-a-half year sentence handed down on my former Beloved (yes, after six months of daily phone calls, three interstate trips to visit him, and handwritten love letters to rival Romeo and Juliet’s, I left him), and still riding the waves of grief and trying to make sense of myself and the world, I was offered the job I’d wanted my entire journalism career: reading the nightly TV news. It was filling a maternity leave position. And it was my big break.

I cut my hair, wore the suit jackets (often with a bulldog clip at the back because they were too big) the wardrobe woman gave me, had my make-up done, and read the scripts put in front of me. Viewers liked me. The ratings stayed steady.  I did very little work for great money.  I’d made it.  And yet… I didn’t care.  I felt like a fraud. I’d learnt that life has so many more colours and shades than the black and white most of the news stories depicted.

After a spiritual retreat promising ‘radical transformation,’  in which I revelled in my glorious essence, I walked out of that TV station knowing I could never, ever go back.

Brave, some people said.  Crazy, most of them said.

Wide open to whatever life wanted to throw my way, I moved interstate to a holiday town known for surfing and spirituality, met a man, got married, gave birth to our daughter in a birth pool in her bedroom, and while I was bored out of my brain breastfeeding and changing diapers, I had no clue what I’d do next.

The quest for my heart’s work felt longer than an elephant’s pregnancy, and it was.  By at least three times.

Re-enter fear. I couldn’t even begin to count the number of times I longed to go back to that TV station.  Everything seemed so much easier then. All I had to do was turn up, look nice, read a few scripts, and get paid. But deep in my heart, I wanted my own business. I wanted to write, on my terms. I wanted to do work that mattered and made a difference. I wanted to be real and true, to tell it like it is, to ditch ‘nice’ and ‘acceptable,’ and step off the cliff of fear once and for all.

I kept this poem handy, to keep the flames dancing in my heart, whenever fear threatened to take over again.

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“… You must learn one thing.

The world was made to be free in,

Give up all the other worlds

except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet

confinement of your aloneness

to learn

anything or anyone

that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.”

~ David Whyte, Sweet Darkness

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I’ll Start a Blog!

Almost exploding with frustration and a need to express myself, I watched a friend build a blog in a weekend and saw how much fun she was having.

I bought a WordPress template, joined an online tribe, and wrote about whatever I felt like.  I wrote a post about going to jail, feeling so dangerous and naughty and fearful as I hit “publish.”  A few sweet comments from tribe members helped me exhale.  They didn’t think I was the fuck-up I thought they would.

I offered a few services on my site but did nothing about promoting them.  It felt so good to write again – I was pumped – and I was loving the feedback, but six weeks in I realised it wasn’t a business, I had no clue how to create one, and I intensely disliked the black and red kung-fu style design of my site.

I called in some of the big guns and got serious about creating a business based on what truly turns me on and is useful to other fabulous women.

Here I Am!

At the six week mark again.  I pulled out of the online tribe before I launched Spoken You.  It felt fake to receive a bunch of comments from people who weren’t truly interested in what I was saying.  It did give me ‘social proof.’  But I’m playing for real now.  I’d rather have just one or two people show up, and know it’s because they’re genuinely interested.  I want to find my true tribe.

In my first week of Spoken You I made $6 from an affiliate sale.  When I opened the doors of my shop, a friend spent $20.  I was so happy I danced like a fairy and punched the air with my fist.  About 15 times. Someone bought something I made!

Since then… let’s just say that I’m indebted to my husband for putting food on the table and petrol in my car.

Running my own show has brought up every insecurity I’ve ever known: “I’m not good enough, I don’t know what I’m doing, Who do I think I am, No one cares what I have to say, I don’t know what I’m talking about, I’m not special…”

Some days totally suck.

But it’s made me feel more alive than ever before, more useful, more content, and my life just seems so much more meaningful.

I feel dangerous, pushing my own limits, and watching what shows up.  My business is transforming, as I do (which translates to changing all the fucking time, including rewriting pages that seemed perfect when they were crafted by a talented copywriter a couple of months ago, and ditching a video I paid someone else to shoot and edit – because I used to work in TV and wanted it to be professional – and now realise it doesn’t feel like me at all or really express what I’m all about and makes me want to vomit each time I see myself on my site).

Am I comfortable?  No way.  But comfortable is boring and stultifying.

I’ve redefined who I want to work with.  And it’s DOORMATS.  Women who are brilliant, amazing, powerful and successful in some parts of their life… and sabotage themselves in other areas and don’t speak up.  And they’re fed up.  They’re ready to step into their full power and speak their truth. This is the work that really turns me on.  Yippee!

Fear, Laid to Rest

Something rather wonderful has happened for me in deciding to step up and own up and agree to be downright magnificent.

I’ve learnt to tango with my fear.  Even make love to it.

Yep, most days I still feel clueless.

But I’m here.  And I’m going to make this thing work.

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Tricia Karp a prime time media darling turned convict turned communications coach.  She works exclusively with doormats who want to find their voice.  They’re amazing, brilliant, powerful and successful women – in some parts of their lives – but sabotage themselves in other areas by playing nice, and not speaking up when it really counts.  Visit her over at her website, Spoken You.

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If you liked that jazz. . .check out some of these:

• Fear, Exposed – Featuring Avril David
• Fear, Exposed – Featuring Kelly Gurnett (AKA Cordelia)
• Fear, Exposed – Featuring Heather Mamatey
• Fear, Exposed – Featuring Caroline McGraw
• Fear, Exposed – Featuring Rich DeMatteo