This is Scary

Self Portrait. Also scary.

Self Portrait. Also scary.

I'm launching You're Doing Just Fine after telling people about it for...I think a year? Probably longer.

When the idea for this podcast formulated it did so with a vengeance. I emailed my boss, my boyfriend, and a couple trusted friends (all podcast lovers and some of my favorite artists) about it. And in telling them, I had listed out the first 30 episodes. I was excited.

Everyone I told was kind and encouraging, but no one told me the next steps. I mean, I had laid them out, but I somehow felt like I needed permission to go forward. Or I was waiting for someone to tell me, "That already exists, it's called Something Way Better Than Your Idea, Caitlin." 

When that didn't happen, I decided to the next step was to start telling people about it before I started. I needed to line up guests, but mostly I needed to commit myself and be proud of this thing I was terrified of doing. 

I have a tendency (I'm recovering from) to keep ideas a secret, to make them perfect before I share them with anyone. Do you do this too? It means there's a possibility we can be secret geniuses. But that's bullshit. I don't think anyone is a secret genius. Even good ole' Will Hunting's friends knew he was oddly special.

Some episodes of YDJF might suck. I apologize for that in advance. I can only hope I get better at producing them as I go. I can promise to make them--and this process--honest. And kind. I'm going to ask people to be vulnerable and own what they might be ashamed of. I am so grateful to people for being willing to talk to me about these scary subjects that don't always have a place to be talked about and shared. I think they need to be shared. There's comfort in listening to them and I hope there's comfort in sharing them. I can promise to treat these conversations like the acts of bravery that they are. I can promise to be just as honest and share the things I'm scared of sharing.  

I'm still excited, and I'm scared. Which is exciting.