My giraffe team is on it
(Hi, pardon me, what can you see from up there?)
Two days ago, I sent off the draft of my just-finished novel to my wonderful team of volunteer beta readers. This is a “hurray!” moment. At the same time, I am, as per usual, consumed with imposter syndrome and anxiety. No matter how many times I finish a book and send it to the fabulous people who have specifically said they would like to read it, I feel this way. Each book is different, so just because I pulled off a coherent story last time doesn’t mean it worked this time. Etc. Such is the narrative in my head.
Because, you see, I have generalized anxiety disorder. My therapist said so and everything! It’s quite helpful to know that, actually. So if you suspect you have a mental health disorder but haven’t gotten a diagnosis, I say unto you: do not be afraid! I have found it enlightening to recognize these whirling dust-devil repetitive thoughts as my familiar old monster friend, anxiety, just doing its usual thing, rather than being sucked into truly believing the scenarios it’s spinning.
(I still do kinda-sorta believe them. That’s the ongoing struggle. But only part of my mind buys it these days, as opposed to diving all the way in and living in that false reality, the way I used to, before understanding anxiety better.)
One day, when I was having an in-person session rather than our usual video-call sessions, my therapist got out a big bin of toy animals and action figures. Pick one to represent person X in this scenario, she said. And another to represent person Y. And so on. It was a cool exercise, setting them up in 3D, seeing what my brain led me to choose. Ah, X is totally this roaring lion. And Y is obviously this glamorous figure in a shiny pink dress. And so on.
She asked me to pick the figure to represent the anxious me, and I picked some critter (I honestly don’t remember what) who I positioned as backed into a corner blocked by little plastic fences, faced with the roaring lion. Then she had me pick the part of me who is able to observe things more clearly, can see the bigger picture. I picked a giraffe—because my mind is frequently nothing if not literal. Naturally the giraffe, over here in an open area free of fencing, can get a great overview of the whole situation.
Since then, in therapy sessions, she has occasionally reminded me of that. “What does your giraffe brain say about this?”
It came up again in our session yesterday, when I discussed my fretting about what my beta readers might be thinking of my book. I also said I would like to give my team a better name, as “beta readers” feels pedestrian, and what they’re doing is such a gigantic service to me—they’re giving me a big-picture assessment, from sets of fresh eyes, on what I have created. Ah! So, a giraffe view!, we realized.
Therefore perhaps I should call them my Giraffe Team from now on. At least it’s unique, and cute.
In the interim, while I’m waiting for my giraffe friends to give their level-headed, purple-tongued verdicts, maybe I will end up writing more on Substack. Maybe I’ll even start deciding what the theme of my Substack should be. Currently, I’m leaning toward the general notion of how we can often benefit from taking a big step backward and looking at things differently—a notion that can be applied to all kinds of topics, but which is embodied nicely by the giraffe, I would say.
What is your inner giraffe seeing lately, in contrast to your inner, small, cornered critter?
That's a delightful analogy. Much more imaginative than the traditional "bird's eye view" language.
I love this analogy and I think we all need a giraffe team.