Discovering What’s Possible: My Write of Passage Journey

“My hope is to see what else is possible and help others see what’s possible, too.”

Writing this felt silly, even if it was true. I was applying for a scholarship to an online writing course called Write of Passage. 

Could this course show me what was possible?

My gut told me I needed to find out.

I decided I’d spend the year experimenting with writing after years of thinking about writing, but letting fear keep me from ever taking action.

I didn't know how to do it alone. And I didn’t want to do it alone.

I longed for a sense of community. 

But with a $4000 price tag, I couldn’t afford it.

One day, I was scrolling through the course’s website, and reading the FAQ section. That’s when I saw the question “What if I can’t afford the course?”

My eyes lit up. 

They offered scholarships. I knew I had to jump at the opportunity, and take a chance.

When I first sat down to apply, I was jolted with self-doubt. My thoughts had me second-guessing my decision.

What if I don’t get it? What if I do and I hate it? What if I don’t fit in? What if people hate me? What if it’s too hard for me? What if I can’t handle it? What if I’m not meant to do this? What if my writing sucks?

Despite the pull I felt inside me, I felt intimidated. Scared.

That was my cue. 

I needed to do it.

I wanted it.

I applied.

It’s Happening

A couple of days later, my alarm went off. I opened my eyes, reached for my phone, and opened Gmail.

My heart stopped.

An email from a guy named Will Mannon.

“Hi Sandra,

Congratulations! You’ve been selected to receive a scholarship for the upcoming Write of Passage cohort.”

Oh shit.

I got it? Wait. Is this real?

I hesitated. 

At that moment, doubt crept back into my mind.

I didn’t feel worthy. I felt small.

Before making any decision about whether I’d go forward or not, I took a few days to let the waves of insecurity mellow out.

Once my worries eased I felt clear.

I knew I received the opportunity for a reason. This was my chance to test myself, and not let fear continue to stop me.

I refused to let the mental gymnastics keep me from seizing it.

I paid my portion of the cost. 

I was ready.

Showing up

An hour before the first live session, I sat at my desk, shaking with anxiety. 

I worried about talking to people, and talking about myself. All the things that could go wrong.

My mind was racing. Just thinking about the writing I’d do was dizzying.

I spent that hour meditating, then jumped on the Zoom call.

I don’t remember much of that first live session, other than constantly reminding myself to take deep breaths.

When the call ended, I was fine, but I felt so stressed that I wasn’t sure how I would handle the rest.

It felt unnecessarily hard, and scary. It would be easy to avoid putting myself through something so uncomfortable, and anxiety-inducing.

Despite this, I wanted to make the most of the experience.

I promised myself that I would show up.

I would show up to every live session, and as many of the optional sessions as I could. I wouldn’t let anxiety keep me from joining breakout rooms, or following through with completing and publishing the writing assignments by the final day.

For the next 5 weeks, my anxiety soared the highest it had in months.

I joined all the live sessions, and dozens of mentor sessions. 

When it was time for breakout rooms, a wave of panic washed over me, urging me to escape. I didn’t. I’d go in with butterflies in my stomach, and a lump in my throat. My legs shook uncontrollably under my desk when awkwardly stumbling my way through conversations with strangers. 

I wanted to connect, but I was filled with worry about what people would think of me. I compared myself. Everyone seemed successful and sure of themselves, while I was unemployed and trying to figure things out. 

I attended all the Crossfit writing sessions. Each time, I dreaded the experience, knowing I’d struggle to form my ideas, and articulate them in breakout rooms. I worried about being unhelpful to others under pressure. I wanted to abandon these meetings entirely. But I didn’t.

I agonized over writing. Fighting resistance, and the desire to keep my writing to myself. Do I have anything meaningful to share? Is my writing good enough? Does what I have to say matter? But I joined the “writing gym” sessions to write quietly among strangers on Zoom. And when I felt compelled to lean into vulnerability with my writing, I was afraid of how I’d be perceived, but wrote anyway.

I shared my drafts, accepted feedback and published all 5 articles, just like I said I would.

I showed up.

What kept me going

I couldn’t rely solely on forcing myself to show up. 

I turned to self-compassion.

I knew that I would struggle, and be uncomfortable, even scared. And that those things were okay. I could be disciplined, and gentle. Not letting myself off the hook, but not judging myself for how I felt or struggled.

I’d remind myself of the promise I made to show up and make the most of the experience, and that I was going to honor that promise because I deserved it.

I deserved to allow myself to try, and give myself permission to deliberately stretch myself out of my comfort zone.

I can do hard things

With every article, live session, and breakout room conversation, I realized I was doing better than I expected. 

My anxiousness blended with excitement.

By showing up every day, I created the evidence I needed to show myself I would be okay. That I had the capacity to do hard things, and move through my anxiety. 

When I started to doubt myself, I looked at the evidence and saw I had no reason to.

In breakout rooms, I encountered kind, and supportive strangers. I didn’t feel judged when I talked about myself. 

Even when I opened up about my anxiety around being in breakout rooms, I felt accepted. Sometimes, I’d find that others shared similar fears and anxieties as me.

When I received feedback on my writing, I was surprised to find that my vulnerability was met with reassuring words. When mentor Salman Ansari gave me a shout out, and shared my first article during one of his mentor sessions, I felt safe, and encouraged to keep writing, and sharing. 

I showed up. I wrote. I talked to people. I published.

I did hard things. I did scary things. 

And I was okay.

Possibility

Every day in Write of Passage offered an opportunity to challenge old stories I believed about myself. 

It provided a safe playground for me to embrace being vulnerable, stretch myself, and prove my capacity to do hard things. 

If you had told me last year, that in 2022 I would willingly choose to be in breakout rooms connecting with strangers from around the world, writing and sharing my writing with others for feedback and support, and that I would start a newsletter, I wouldn’t have believed you.

I applied to Write of Passage to see what was possible, and it showed me what was possible within myself.

I’m no longer letting fear stop me from writing.

What’s next? 

I’m going to keep writing, and seeing what else is possible. Hopefully, I’ll show others what’s possible, too.