The learning and forgetting curve
I'm thinking a lot about this right now.
Partly because I'm doing a lot of teaching.
And partly because I'm on the 1st repetition of some things (and the 42nd of others) and while I used to get frustrated with myself about learning the same things over and over, these days I'm more amused by it all. And to know this isn't just me – to know that it's a real thing that has charts and graphs and everything – makes it even easier for me to step back and be amused by it. The learning and forgetting. Learning and forgetting.
I had a good long circular talk about this with my coach, Tatyana this morning. We talked about the learning and forgetting curve, and about feedback and inner and outer voices, and perfectionism and consequences and what I knew to be true when I was nine years old that has never wavered (despite certain external voices telling me I was wrong along the years) and realizing that I was right at nine, and I am right now, and I was right during all those years in between, and the voices of "no, you can't" – maybe they say more about themselves than me.
I shared that I'm experiencing something like a hangover from putting myself out there with the business launch earlier this week. I've found it hard to sit down to write (even to journal). That my longing is to curl up with a book and a blanket.
Partly because I don't want feedback.
But that's not really it.
It's that I don't want more of the most unpleasant kind of messages I've ever received in my life / career. (Which is catastrophizing, yes. That is, of course, not likely to happen.)
But it's the worst case scenario my brain goes to when I tell myself it's time to sit down and write after I've stepped away from my writing habit for whatever reason. And it's felt even harder this week after spending the last few weeks indulging my wiring for perfectionism working on the business launch.
That worst case scenario – that I'll receive more of the "worst" or most unpleasant kind of feedback I've ever received – is not the truth, it's just a pinprick of a possibility like a single star in the night sky. And yet, that single pinprick is enough that I've dragged my feet all week about sitting down with my journal (or to write this week's newsletter issue which you're now looking at, published on Thursday afternoon when my self-imposed deadline is Tuesday morning).
That night sky is also full of other stars. The ones who whisper back "me too" or who roar "FUCK YES" from the top of a mountain alongside me.
And somewhere in that universe is also me, just being me. A star, burning and shining
and really what does it matter what anyone else says or thinks because I am on fire from the inside out and I get to do and be that as well
and while burning brightly may be ... somewhat ... scary? ... (I mean it's fire and all)
It also feels like a certain kind of balance.
and thank you for reading. ❤️
And, if you're interested, here's a recap of a few links around the business launch:
- Here's our "doors are open" announcement
- Also, some social media updates. If we've worked together and you're willing to share, it's super helpful Thank you so much to friends and colleagues who've done this – it means the world to me:
- LinkedIn: http://bit.ly/RCco_LI_launch
- Twitter: http://bit.ly/RCco_Tw_Launch
- Instagram: http://bit.ly/RCco_IG_Launch
3. AND: I've got an open research study right now on collaborative goal-setting and alignment practices (including but not only about OKRs) at work – so if you're a business-y friend or colleague, I'd love your participation and a share if you're so inclined. I'm trying to draw from my network and WAY beyond, with this one.
P.S. a reminder from @lizandmollie on Instagram (that so perfectly illustrates why I do what I do. This drawing could be the vision, mission and purpose statement of Red Currant Collective):
Sara Lobkovich Newsletter
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