I take music classes. ⁠They’re all about sound and technique, but sometimes my teacher mic-drops a gloriously profound life lesson.⁠ One of these lessons struck really a chord, so I try to use it in all areas of my life – including writing.

The Deets

In 2020, I had abdominal surgery. Not great if you’re a clarinet player, because you have to put a lot of pressure on your stomach to support your breathing.

After the surgery, I needed some time to recover (thank youuu Outer Banks season 1, for keeping me entertained while I was confined to my couch). Eight weeks later, I could finally start playing music again (dun dun dunnn…)

Cue the Frustration and Self-doubt…

Getting back into music was hard: I sucked. My sound was horrible, and I couldn’t figure out my technique. I was frustrated and angry with myself. A LOT. Why could I no longer do these things?

Honestly, my first few lessons after the surgery were uncomfortable and embarrassing. I knew I was terrible, and I went as far as apologizing to my teacher for the extreme level of awfulness I was subjecting him to. I was torturing him, breaking his soul – I just knew it.

Of course, he was super nice about it – and incredibly patient. At the same time, he pushed me. It was what I needed, but it made me want to whack him on the nose (but hug him, too).

Then Came the Lobsters

During an especially harrowing lesson, my teacher told me I shouldn’t be so hard on myself – I shouldn’t see my struggle as a negative. He then asked me if I knew how lobsters grew.

I thought he’d gone a little cray, until he explained Dr. Abraham Twerski’s “how lobsters grow” analogy⁠:⁠

As a lobster grows, its shell becomes confining. The lobster starts feeling uncomfortable. For the lobster to continue growing, it must break out of its shell and develop a new, stronger one.

So, for the lobster, feeling uncomfortable is a signal for growth.

What’s more: to grow, the lobster must make itself vulnerable for a while. As it sheds its old shell and waits for the new one to grow, any predatory fish (sharks and stuff) lurking in the neighborhood can eat him.

Ehm, Okay…?

I really like the idea of discomfort as an indicator of growth:

Yes, I’m struggling with my music, or with writing, or with this thing in my WIP – there’s a lot of discomfort, even stress, but that means I’m working on it: I’m changing, making progress, getting better and stronger. I’m growing.

Okay, cool!

Now for the hard part: ALLOWING myself the vulnerability of sounding horrible, or messing up my technique, or wrestling with my story (of course, I don’t need to worry about being eaten by predatory fish, but other things creep in the shadows: embarrassment, judgment, guilt…). It’s shitty and difficult, but necessary – and in the end quite wonderful.

Sooo: allow yourself to suck, and don’t be too hard on yourself if you’re struggling, because likely you’re in the process of growing a stronger version of yourself!

Also: lobsters (and my teacher) are pretty darn cool.