See, I was in a deep, dark funk late last fall—felt completely incompetent, inadequate, dejected about the state of affairs, completely detached from any confidence I might have previously had. And as someone whose job it is to coach people through times like this, you can imagine the consternation I felt about being in that space myself.

It wasn’t pretty. I would cry at the drop of a hat, entertained frequent thoughts of quitting everything and going to work as a drone, and in general was uncharacteristically in full-on Debbie Downer mode.

My good friends, god bless ‘em, didn’t know what to make of it. They were genuinely baffled that I felt as hard on myself as I did. They listened, encouraged, gave pep talks and hugs, held out boxes of Kleenex, and did everything they could to remind me that I was just fine, that I was momentarily off the rails and would find my way back to my better self, they were sure of it.

Meanwhile, even as I wrestled with this bad mood, I was mid-stream in a big marketing push to spread the word about The 28 Day Gutsy Life Challenge  (which, by the way, is on the calendar again for April) and the juxtaposition of my emotional state against the message I was putting out there felt completely schizophrenic. (Hi, I’m offering a workshop on how to be more gutsy in your life. And by the way, I’m an emotional puddle of goo right now.)

Then, to add more fuel to the fire, I took a leap off a cliff and decided to sign up for a public speaking workshop, which was briskly stimulating to my bevy of inner critics, to say the least.

My mental state was NOT good. I was struggling to go through the motions, and battled every day against feeling all of the versions you can conjure up of “not enough”. In retrospect, I can’t say it was depression—it was more like a full-frontal battle with my own demons.

Things continued on this way for what seemed like a long while. I kept being surprised by the grip that this funk had on me, and how pervasive it seemed. I described it to a friend as an octopus, with eight  suction-cupped limbs entwined around me, and the minute I’d get one loose, another would encircle a different part of my body and then I’d wrestle with that.

At one point, I considered just quitting trying for a bit. Not giving up entirely, on everything, but just giving myself a month off to stop trying so hard to fix things. Give myself a month with permission to just take care of myself, feel how I feel, and release myself from any requirements about goals, accomplishments, outcomes, or anything tangible or measurable. Permission to just be, whatever that meant.

And somehow, I suspect that maybe that permission was the magic that began to change the tide.

I keep looking for the one thing that I did or that happened that began to shift things. I wish there were one moment, one “ah-ha” that I can point to as the turning point—because today, I’m in a different place. I feel more confident, more trusting of myself, where I’m at, and who I am; I’m back to feeling engaged, motivated, and in the right mental space to take on the journey I have in mind for myself. I want to be able to name it, to know what it was that I DID to get myself back on track, because I might need it again for the future, and god knows it might have value for someone else as well, at least as a possible strategy to TRY when things get rough.

I keep pondering what shifted, what helped me to get through the recent dark spot I went through. And while I can’t offer one big idea, I think there are some little things, all of which added up to getting through it:

1. Permission to be exactly where I am at. Often, when we get into a funk, there are two problems: first of all, there’s the problem of the mood itself, which already feels crummy. And then, we usually layer self-judgment about the mood on top of it—we shouldn’t feel that way, it’s bad to feel the way we feel, and so forth. This is akin to adding insult to injury, and doesn’t help get you through it anyhow. So giving yourself permission to just feel down for a bit is just fine.
2. Keep on keepin’ the faith. And by that, I mean consciously choosing the perspective that even despite any preponderance of evidence, I am on the right path, doing my right work, and to keep doing what I said I would, even when my feelings would have me do otherwise. I wrote in a post a while back that I think building a business is an act of faith, because you continually have to keep doing things to move the ball forward even when you don’t see any obvious results at the time. So during this dark time, I just kept moving. Kept sticking to the program, doing the work I was not at all motivated to do. One thing at a time, even if it was a small thing.
3. Shake things up. I found that I would literally get into a form of paralysis: from staring at the computer screen, from feeling overwhelmed by too much to do, by wallowing in my mood and obsessing about it. So for me, doing something completely different was a way to break the spell. Go outside for a walk. Go to the gym and jump into the swimming pool. Take a bubble bath in the middle of the day. Again, permission to just stop and take a sharp detour was instrumental in me breaking the mental spin I was in.
4. Excellent self-care. For me, this meant naps, walks outside, massage, reading frivolous books, and time with people I care about. It also meant NOT doing things—not worrying about chores, tasks, or imaginary “have-to’s” that I might otherwise hold myself to doing.There may be other things that helped, too—dear friends who listened and offered encouragement; beginning to see small wins here and there that were related to my plugging along without knowing if I were making any impact; a full-moon eclipse that I made the effort to witness and celebrate with a small lakeside ceremony. Who knows what the “key” was.

What I know, though, is that the thing that felt most powerful to me was the simple act of acceptance: of allowing myself to be in whatever state I was in, without trying to fix it, change it, or make myself wrong for being there. It seems that by giving myself permission to have darkness and be fully in it, that somehow it made the darkness lose its grip on me. I wish I could explain it better than that. I just know that the next time around, I’ll make space for the darkness sooner, and open myself up to what it might hold for me.  I’ll give myself permission to just be.

Over to you: what helps you get through particularly hard times?

For anyone contemplating career change or just wondering “What the heck do I want to do with my life”:

Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation by Parker Palmer–a lovely read about finding your calling. While he doesn’t offer quick solutions, Mr. Palmer shares his own journey in a way that offers hope and insight into the process.

The Pathfinder by Nicolas Lore–A great workbook to help you identify potential career paths. Combines nuts-and-bolts exercises with values, vision, and soul-searching.

Steering by Starlight by Martha Beck. Basically, I love anything Martha Beck writes, and this is one of my favorites. Falls into the slightly-more-woo-woo category, which suits me just fine.

For better communication:

Fierce Conversations, by Susan Scott. If I could get everyone on the planet to read (and use the info in) just one book, this is it. All about how to have conversations that matter.

Difficult Conversations, by Douglas Stone, Bruce Patton, and Sheila Heen. A classic book that explains the anatomy of how a conversation goes off the rails, with tips and strategies for getting through them more successfully on both sides.

You Just Don’t Understand! Women and Men in Conversation, by Deborah Tannen. A great view on typical (or maybe stereotypical, depending on your perspective) ways that each gender thinks and communicates. Not bashing–just a way to understand and hopefully bridge the gap.

For banishing Inner Critics and Naysayers:

Taming Your Gremlin, by Rick Carson. Another classic–playful, light, yet has some simple (not easy) suggestions for how to turn down the volume on that nasty voice inside your head.

Embracing Your Inner Critic, by Hal and Sidra Stone.  How to turn the nasty voice from critic into a valuable asset.

For women and career stuff:

Women Don’t Ask, by Sara Laschever and Linda Babcock.  As far as I can tell from my very unofficial research, one of the biggest ways that women get in their own way is that they don’t speak up for what they want. This book takes a look at the impact of not asking, and offers ideas on how to develop your asking ability.

What’s Holding You Back–Eight Critical Choices for Womens Success, by Linda Austin.  The glass ceiling, as it turns out, is not external–it’s internal. This book shows you how you might be keeping yourself from the success that you want.

Women and money:

Overcoming Underearning by Barbara Stanny and Prince Charming Isn’t Coming by Barbara Stanny.  Both of these books look at your relationship with money, not necessarily how to structure your finances. But I think it’s important stuff, especially since money (or lack of) is such a big topic with so many of us, myself included.

This list is just the tip of the iceberg…I’ll put more up  as I think of them.

And I’d also love to hear your recommendations–what book has been valuable to you? Please share your favorites in the comments below–I’d love to build my library up and find some new favorites! Thanks.

You, my biggest fan, my eternal cheerleader, my sounding board, my shoulder to lean on, my fiercest critic, my loyal reader, my constant support system. My friend, my client, my colleague, my cohort.

I am so grateful for you.

You are there for me, thick and thin, giving me everything from hugs and kudos to Kleenex and cocktails, depending on where I’m at in my journey. You believe in me with a tenacity that I sometimes don’t even hold for myself, and encourage me to stay the course even as I’m wobbling and bobbling my way along on this journey toward building a thriving career. You give me valuable feedback, offer insights, share your perspective, and pose thoughtful questions that challenge me to think differently. You never allow me to shrink from myself: when I feel discouraged or frustrated, you remind me of my own uniqueness, of the value of my point of view, of my natural skills that I have forgotten that I own.

You have this amazing way of making me feel seen, recognized, and validated. You give me heart-felt compliments that I know aren’t just niceties you’re making up, but genuine acknowledgements of what you see in me, what you know to be true. You take a stand for me, knowing that my best self is still here, even if she’s gone into hiding for the moment. You fight for me, and don’t allow me to beat myself up when I’m feeling particularly poisonous.

And you also inspire me. You, who in theory it’s my work to serve—the truth is, you give to me much more, perhaps, than I give to you. I see you digging deep, keeping the faith, bravely turning your face into the tough decisions, doing the hard work of change, and diligently striving for growth, learning, self-awareness, self-acceptance. I’m moved by your depth, brilliance, and vulnerability. And guts, by god you’re brave!

Your faith in me is a dear treasure that fuels me in the tough times. Because there are times when I have felt like giving up: the work is hard, the successes come few and far between, the distance between where I want to go and where I am now seems too great to cross, and I wonder if I’ll ever get there. I have big dreams, and sometimes it’s hard to see traces of forward momentum.

I often think that building my business is a complete act of faith: faith that what I am doing will turn into the thing I’m aiming for, faith that the small actions I take will add up some day, faith that the work I do makes a difference, faith that I actually do have the right ingredients to make it work, faith that all of these seeds I’m scattering will someday take root and flourish. While some days are better than others, there are many many days where I think I’m just flailing in the dark, putting stuff out to the universe and never knowing what, if anything, might come of it.

And those are the days that I’m most grateful for you.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

But I digress…

When the New Year rolls around, I do sit down and do some reflection on the past year, and some deep thinking, planning, and intention-setting for the year ahead. (If you haven’t downloaded it yet, you can grab a copy of The Gutsy Girl Annual Review Worksheet, which will help you through your own annual review/planning process).  So I thought I’d give you a glimpse into setting the theme for last year, and a preview of what’s in store for the upcoming year.

Last year, my theme for the year was all about connection and building relationship.

See, by nature I’m an introvert. I can do the extrovert thing extremely well and if you just met me out and about, you might not guess that I thrive on solitary, quiet time. So the coaching profession suits me well, in many ways: I get to work from home, with no one around except my two laptops (the computer one and the feline one), and my human interaction takes place mainly on the phone or via Skype with my clients.

What I realized, however, is that while I love the peace and solo endeavor, it’s not where I do my best work. Alone, I do lots of thinking and pondering and contemplating, all of which is good–but when I interact and collaborate with others, magic happens. It becomes that old adage about 1+1=3. When I am with others, not only do I shine but some kind of synergy happens within the group where everyone gets out of it way more than they might if they were to be making the solo effort.

I also have realized that I want to reach more women than I can if I’m just going it alone. I have dreams of reaching thousands of women and helping/inspiring them to live gutsier, more fulfilling lives. I want to champion women on the verge of taking their own personal best leap, in whatever way that shows up. I want to spread the message that leading the life you want, the life you are capable of, takes guts—and that you HAVE the guts that you need already! You don’t need to find it, fix anything, or change—you just need to start tapping into what already exists inside of you and start leaning in.

And to spread that message on a large scale—well, let’s just say it won’t happen with me, alone, on my computer. Connection, collaboration, community—this is what I set out for myself as my intention last year, and I carry it with me as I begin 2012.

(Side note: part of that community and connection for me takes place on Facebook and Twitter, so if we’re not connected there, take a moment and reach out, won’t you? Thanks.)

So what is my intention for this year?

This year, my focus boils down to one thing: take bigger risks.

Now, as a life coach who positions herself as “helping gutsy women do cool things”, you might assume that I am fairly fearless, and thus in a position to speak with authority on being gutsy, living courageously, playing big, and so forth. You might be correct, depending on which measuring stick you use.

Compared to some, I have taken many risks and done quite a number of what might be considered gutsy things.

But what’s gutsy for one woman is completely different than what’s gutsy for another—using that measuring stick is like comparing apples to oranges.

Really, the bigger question is: what’s gutsy for ME? What would be risky for me?

Several years ago, I got some pointed feedback from a woman in my graduate program that zinged right to my core.

Her feedback was this: Kristy, I think you only take risks that you’re pretty sure you’ll succeed at.

What she was saying to me was that those things I “risked” had a high probability of success—there was very little down side, and no real chance of failure, rejection, or falling down.

And unfortunately, she was right.

In other words, yes, I do things that might look like a stretch, in a way. Like solo travel to a foreign country. Or strapping on backcountry ski gear and climbing up a small mountain.

But the risks I take, at least in many cases, have a pretty large safety net underneath them. And they’re not very far outside of my comfort zone—they’ve been things that don’t require me to truly test my own mettle.

My version of taking risks, then, has historically been to not take very big ones.

Until now.

That, my dear, is what I’m intent on shifting this year.

Because if I want to reach thousands of women, to help raise the bar for women and courage everywhere, I’m going to need to make bolder moves, think bigger, ask for more, and plant a larger stake in the ground towards that vision. Baby steps might get me there eventually, but I’m too impatient to wait for “eventually”.

I’m beginning by taking a workshop on public speaking, which frankly gets my heart beating a mile a minute and conjures up all those nasty inner critics. I want to reach out to people whom I admire, and see what kind of collaboration I might be able to forge with them. I’ll be looking for bigger places to put my time and energy, ones with a higher risk/reward ratio.

I’m still working on the tangible parts of my plan for the year. I don’t have concrete milestones or goals set quite yet, though I’m getting the broad brush strokes laid out.

But I’m clear that I intend 2012 to be the year that I take bold risks. And just that thought thrills me and gets me slightly nervous, which says to me that I’m in the right space.

Now over to you: what do you have your sights on for the upcoming year?

So I wanted to share with you some of the questions I use when I do my own year-end process, in hopes that you’ll find something here that will help you in your own dreaming, scheming, planning, and visioning.

I like to use this process as a way of checking in with myself, drawing out any learning and takeaways from the past year, and clearing the slate for the year ahead. For me, it feels both humbling and empowering to look back at how I participated in my own growth, learning, and progress (and sometimes, how I didn’t participate). I check in with what I set forth, see whether or not it’s still relevant, and if so, what do I want to do with it now. And ultimately, when I spend the time to reflect and dream, it somehow helps me to reconnect with my own inner wisdom and higher self instead of feeling pushed and pulled by shoulds, have-tos or other external stuff.

You can download the workbook here, and as always, I’d really love to hear from you: What do you find particularly useful? Do you have any of your own rituals that you love to do at the year’s end?

Please share in the comments below. And Happy New Year!

PS The 28 Day Gutsy Life Challenge begins in two weeks, and if you could use a nudge (or push, or kick in the butt) to live a gutsier life, I suggest you join in the fun! Get yourself signed up, won’t you? See you there!

What if I make a mistake?

What if they don’t like me?

What if I end up looking like a total idiot?

What if I say the wrong thing?

What if I don’t have enough experience/smarts/skill/know-how/education?

What if they say no?

What if (gulp) I really, completely, utterly BOMB?

Man, those “what ifs” have some teeth, don’t they? It’s like having your own personal Top Ten play list by the hit group The Worrywarts, playing on endless shuffle. I should know. I’ve got the whole playlist, AND all the remix versions by unknown artists, all swimming around in my brain from time to time.

And those “what ifs” can take you down a useless rabbit trail that can keep you stuck, stuck, stuck—because there really aren’t very empowering answers to any of those questions.

Can you relate? Nah, I didn’t think so.

It’s said that if you want to get better answers, ask better questions.

If you want to feel more empowered and courageous and gutsy, you might try shifting the kinds of questions you’re pondering.

What if you took “what if” and started using it to ask better questions?

So:

What if you are just right, exactly as you are?

What if you don’t need fixing, changing, or improvement—what does that open up for you?

What if you have all the skill, talent, experience, smarts and so forth that you need—what’s calling you?

What if you have exactly the right thing to say that someone truly wants to hear?

What if you start RIGHT NOW, with what you have in this moment?

What if you give it a shot and it works?

What if you take a risk and it’s a raging success?

What if all that is required of you is to take one small (or big) powerful step at a time—what will you do next? And then what?

Better questions, I think. Are you getting different answers?

Leave your comments below—I always love to hear from you.

PS The 28 Day Gutsy Life Challenge begins in two weeks, and if you could use a nudge (or push, or kick in the butt) to live a gutsier life, I suggest you join in the fun! Get yourself signed up, won’t you? See you there!

(A quick plug here: if you could use a bit more guts in your life, get yourself signed up for my January program, The 28 Day Gutsy Life Challenge. Go. Now. I’ll wait.)

Just so we’re clear: I do know that one woman’s version of gutsy is completely different than another’s. Frankly, you won’t catch me jumping out of an airplane any time soon.  Or taking on any kind of endurance sport that involves more pain than fun. Or doing karaoke anywhere, unless it involves a fair amount of cocktails. My version of gutsy might look nothing at all like yours. Don’t judge.

Just this week, I decided to put myself on the line, and I’ve found myself in that place of needing to walk my talk. I am taking on something that scares the living sh*t out of me, and I will admit this to you: I’m not feeling so gutsy right now!

Here’s the deal: I have a dream that someday, I will be on stage in front of lots (a dozen? hundreds? Thousands?) of people, talking to them, having a powerful message to share and having a big, positive impact in their lives. Now what, exactly, that message is, I’m unclear of yet. But I do know that when I am coaching someone one on one, and they have one of those “ah-ha!” moments that leads to a meaningful shift for them, it’s the most satisfying thing in the world—and if I could offer that to more people, I’d be thrilled. Thus, my interest in public speaking.

So I made a leap. I’ve signed up for a four-day workshop on Transformational Speaking. Four days of honing my message and learning to tell a powerful story, all culminating in (gulp) a videotaped presentation that I will deliver on the last day.

Now frankly, if I had really understood before I signed up with my non-refundable, not-inexpensive tuition paid in full, that I would have to actually GET UP IN FRONT OF PEOPLE AND BE VIDEOTAPED TALKING, I probably would have run for the hills rather than click “submit payment”.  I thought we would just be talking about public speaking, not actually DOING it!

You know that saying that of all the fears people have, death is the number two fear and public speaking is number one? That means that when you go to a funeral, the person giving the eulogy would rather be the person in the casket.

And I’ve SIGNED ON to do this.

Holy crap.

Honestly, I’m already having anxiety about it, and the workshop isn’t even until February. When I think of standing in front of people and being videotaped (and probably critiqued) my heart doesn’t just beat faster, it goes into overdrive.

My entire inner critic committee has been called into action, giving me every reason in the book why I’m never going to be a good speaker, what could I possibly have to say that anyone would want to hear, and so forth. (Jeezus, will those voices EVER go away???)

And don’t think I haven’t envisioned a long list of ways I could bail on this thing—a sudden, late illness; or maybe I could break my leg skiing; or maybe with luck I’ll get food poisoning and have to stay home at the last minute.

I know. It’s embarrassing, the lengths my brain will go to in order to avoid doing something that deeper down, I know I will be glad that I did, even if in the short term it freaks me out to no end.

In his book Do The Work Steven Pressfield talks about the battle  with resistance that occurs in any personal endeavor. (It’s a great book, by the way. Check it out if you haven’t already.)

Two snippets to illustrate:

The enemy is our chattering brain, which, if we give it so much as a nanosecond, will start producing exuses, alibis, transparent self-justifications, and a million reasons why we can’t/shouldn’t/won’t do what we know we need to do.

And:

The more important a call or action is to our soul’s evolution, the more Resistance we will feel toward pursuing it.

Which means that the more your goal or dream is aligned with your higher calling, the more you’ve got to dig deep to get past your own fears. You’ve got to get gutsy.

So, my friends, this is where the coach gets to coach herself and walk her talk.

This is where the rubber meets the road in this whole idea of pursuing a gutsy life: you get to stretch, and do things that feel uncomfortable, in service of the bigger picture of the life you want to lead. And I want to lead a bigger life, have a bigger impact, and reach more people.

With a pounding heart and shaking knees, I’m moving forward. Stay tuned, I’ll keep you posted on how things go!

Okay, I know it’s kind of silly, and maybe even simplistic. But I still think it’s brilliant. So simple, so straightforward. Though not necessarily easy.

The whole idea of “if you’re not happy, do something about it” fits my worldview (and informs the way I work with people when I’m coaching them).

It reminds me of a rule I used to have with a good friend of mine, something we called “The Three Bitch Rule”. It went something like this:

If you have a situation or a problem, I will listen to you complain about it for up to three times. If, after the third time, you have not done anything to try to change the situation, fix the problem, or shift your attitude, then I do not have to listen to you bitch about it again, until you DO something proactive to make some kind of change.

This rule worked really well in our friendship to keep the bitching and moaning to a minimum, and gave us incentive to make changes if something wasn’t working the way we wanted it to in our lives.

See, often we have this funny idea that complaining about the problem is the same thing as taking action to resolve the problem. And guess what? It’s not.

That’s why I love this little flow chart. Happy? Great—keep doing what you’re doing. Not happy? Do something different.

Simple. Though not necessarily easy.

These two words have the power to unstick me like WD-40, to take me from indecision to action, to move me from paralyzed by too many choices to picking one thing and rolling with it.

Those two magic words are “for now”.

As in, what would be the best choice, for now?

What do I want, for now?

What matters to me, for now?

What’s the best course of action, for now?

See, I’ve been contemplating a bunch of ideas and possibilities, especially with regards to building my business. There are several paths I could go down, and all of them have their unique appeal. And I can (and have) spent way too long chewing over the choices, making pro/con lists, trying to imagine every step of the way down each path to figure out which one is the best one to go to.

Part of the problem is that it’s easy to get hooked into the idea that once I choose, those other options will no longer be available to me. I worry that once I decide and commit there’s no going back, and what if the thing I choose turns out to be the “wrong” choice, whatever that means? Or what if it doesn’t turn out like I planned? Or what if I start going down one road and realize it just isn’t working out, then what? Or worse: what if I HATE it, will I be stuck?

That kind of thinking is enough to stop me cold in my tracks, keeping me on the standing on the sidelines of my own life, never getting into the game, and then bemoaning the fact that I’m not getting anywhere, not getting any kind of results in any way, and not having any fun. And lord knows, this girl likes to do things, go places, and above all, have fun while doing it. Because otherwise, what’s the point?

But I digress.

So I was deep in conversation with a friend, spilling out all the tangled thoughts in my head out so that she could help me sort through them and hopefully shed some light on my thinking that would help me once and for all figure things out.

And she simply asked, “what if you just picked one path for now, and don’t worry about knowing the rest of it until you get a bit further along?”

Boy, was that ever music to my ears. It felt like being given permission to explore, to stick my toe in the water, to try something on without it being a forever decision.

(Frankly, it reminded me of being in the dating world and giving myself permission to get to know someone for a while before deciding to jump into a serious relationship. Like you don’t have to know whether or not you want to marry them, you just need to decide if you want to have dinner with them next Friday night.)

I think that it’s easy to feel stuck between a rock and a hard place because we create a story that once we choose one option, it shuts off all other options, forever and ever, amen. So by adding “for now” into the story, it gives us a more expanded sense of how a choice might play out, of which one possibility is that we’ll change our mind about it down the road.

Please don’t misunderstand: I’m not advocating for being wishy-washy, or making half-assed commitments to things. I don’t believe in whole-hearted maybes or flaky promises.

What I’m suggesting is that choice and action can be an iterative process, in that you can make a choice, take action, learn something about it through doing, and then use that feedback to either re-commit to your original course of action OR make a course correction that factors in what you’ve learned as you move forward.

You don’t need to know how every step is going to play out along the way—you can start down one path, and along the way gather experiences and learning that will either keep you moving forward or steer you toward a different direction. You’ll make better decisions because they’ll be grounded in reality, not in fear and hypotheses.

And choosing one thing, for now, gives you a workable framework to go with.

For now, that’s the story I’m sticking with.

PS Registration is now open for The 28 Day Gutsy Life Challenge! If you wish you were making more empowered choices in your life, you might want to check it out and get yourself signed up, dahling.  Hope you’ll join me!

It should be no surprise that I spend a lot of time thinking about this word and what it means. After all, I have a tagline that says “helping gutsy women do cool things”.  I’ve got a new group coaching program beginning in January called The 28 Day Gutsy Life Challenge. And I coach women all the time to face their fear, trust their gut, and go for it—whatever their IT is.

And so it often feels like I have a lot on the line, that if I’m talking so much about being gutsy I better be able to know of that which I speak.

So it’s been a bit interesting that as of late, I’ve not felt much like the textbook definition of gutsy.

If you check Webster’s dictionary, you’ll find the following definition:  marked by courage, pluck, or determination.

And if you ask other people what it means, they might say: Bold. Courageous. Brazen. Fearless. Risk-taker. On the edge. Pushing the envelope. Nervy. Daring. Adventurous.

Every one of those can fit, depending on the woman and the situation.

And yes, I think that gutsy is all of those things.

Yet I haven’t been feeling that way at all. I’ve been feeling quiet, contemplative, a bit introverted, and have a serious nesting urge: I just want to stay home and cook, and organize, and read good books with a cup of tea. I want to have deeper conversations with people I care about; shift gears from adrenaline sports to more soul-growing activities like yoga and hiking; do less work with more intention; and pay close attention to my own energy flow instead of what my calendar or to-do list say I should be paying attention to.

In some ways, this does not look like you might suppose gutsy is supposed to look.

I like to think that there is another way to think about being gutsy: for example, it might be the quiet steadfastness that keeps you upright in the middle of chaos. Or the tenacity of sticking with the pursuit of your dream, in spite of difficulties and obstacles. The calm centeredness you experience that comes from knowing yourself deeply. And the resiliency and determination that grows out of perseverance.

So I was heartened to come across this passage about courage in Brene Brown’s book The Gifts of Imperfection.

The root of the word courage is cor—the Latin word for heart. In one of its earliest forms, the word courage had a very different definition than it does today.  Courage originally meant “to speak one’s mind by telling all one’s heart.” Over time, this definition has changed, and, today, courage is more synonymous with being heroic. Heroics are important and we certainly need heroes, but I think we’ve lost touch with the idea that speaking honestly and openly about who we are, about what we’re feeling, and about our experiences (good and bad) is the definition of courage. Heroics are often about putting our life on the line. Ordinary courage is about putting our vulnerability on the line.

To me, that last sentence speaks volumes: that being courageous, or gutsy, isn’t always about taking huge, death-defying risks or doing crazy, headline-making things. That it can be quiet, soft, and above all, it can happen every day—it’s a way of living with a willingness to be who we are, feel what we feel, have our experiences in our own way, all from a heart-centered place. It’s putting our vulnerability on the line, as Brene says.

I can’t agree more. One of the reasons I created The 28 Day Gutsy Life program is to help every woman recognize that there are many ways that being gutsy shows up, and not all of them have to do with heroics. That the root of being gutsy is to know yourself deeply, know what you want, figure out what stops you, and from that place of understanding, to do something if that’s what is needed. To speak one’s mind by telling all one’s heart. That you CAN live a gutsy life, and it can very well mean that it’s one of being centered, grounded, and resilient.

Because speaking up for yourself is gutsy. Admitting you don’t know is gutsy. Asking for help when you need it is gutsy. Saying no to tradition in favor of following your instincts is gutsy. Taking time off to care for yourself is gutsy.

The list goes on…what’s YOUR version of being gutsy? How does it show up (or not) in your life? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.

And PS: If you want aren’t sure of your version of being gutsy and want to figure it out, you should sign up for the program! It begins January 4th, and it’s gonna be great. I’d love to have you join!