I’m a quiet introvert. That’s been pretty evident since my early childhood, when I often passed up playing outside with the neighborhood kids for staying in to watch my favorite talk shows. So a couple years ago, when I saw an ad for adult singing lessons “for those who would like to improve their projection and speaking voice,” my interest was piqued. First, to put this in context, at that point in my life the thought of even humming in front of other people made me uncomfortable. I figured that if I could learn to belt out tunes in front of complete strangers, it could at least help me feel a little bit more comfortable with using my own voice.
A few weeks into class, my teacher decided to pull me aside. She could tell I was holding back during the voice exercises (cue Melissa’s hyper sense of self-consciousness). She said that it was as if I was afraid of hearing my own voice, afraid that I might sound terrible. She proceeded by telling it to me straight. She said that “being wrong is the first step to learning how to do things right.” I needed to risk the possibility that maybe I will sound terrible. And if I did, that’s okay. It’s a statement that has resonated with me ever since. It taught me to not only be open to failure, but embrace it as a necessary step to growth. So I took her advice, engaged my diaphragm and at the top of my lungs screamed a very flat high C. It sounded terrible, but felt extremely liberating. What began as a simple extracurricular activity became something of a form of therapy.
Completing this class set the precedent for me enrolling in a slew of random classes that I wouldn’t necessarily have thought to take. I’ve said “yes, and” to improv at iO Theatre, learned how to sew an A-line skirt and have doggy-paddled my way through adult swimming lessons at the YMCA. I certainly performed better at some of these than others (turns out I’m not a natural improviser) but that’s beside the point. It’s all part of an effort to put myself in a place of slight discomfort. Because when you allow yourself to enter into the chaos of your own vulnerability and try something out of your comfort zone, amazing things can happen. You might be surprised by how the world won’t come crashing down. You might even find that you’re good at whatever it is you’re trying out. And you’ll most likely meet some nice people along the way.
Embracing vulnerability has only helped me be more innovative in my work as a designer. Let’s face it—it’s hard out there for an introvert. The pervasive culture of personality in today’s workforce often encourages productivity through group brainstorming and forced collective thinking. But ideas are fragile, and creativity can easily be stomped out and get lost in that noise. By accepting vulnerability as a necessary part of the creative process, you allow for greater innovation. Merely pushing past the status quo requires a certain level of vulnerability. Your first idea will almost never be your best idea. It’ll most likely be pretty bad. And that’s okay, because those little failures will serve as the building blocks for bigger things to come.