Why I Needed To Stop Just Taking Action
The life lesson of a “doer”
I used to be shy. Incredibly shy!
So shy that (until the age of 12) I couldn’t bring myself to ask for water at a family friend’s house. I rarely spoke up at school — absolutely dreaded being called upon. There was even a time (at age 7) when I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt a dance class long enough to ask to go to the bathroom. The sheer fear of having all those eyes on me was enough to keep me silent. All the way up to the point where pee was running down my leg.
Yeah…shy.
But why?
From Thinker to Doer
I think it was largely because I thought too much. I overthought every interaction before it happened — tried to calculate all the events that might unfold.
I tried to predict everything before I did it.
My need to predict people carried on for a long time throughout my life. But I quickly learnt how to overcome my shyness.
A couple of years into high school, I began to notice a change. Perhaps I was growing more confident in myself, or maybe the protection mechanisms I had as a child were no longer serving me. Either way, I began to grow a tougher outer shell.
Now, when I was called upon, I would push. I’d snap back with humour or some sassy comment. I’d turn off my brain and let impulse take over.
It landed me in trouble from time to time, and the boys stayed away for fear of being burnt. But as far as I was concerned, it was better than peeing my pants in an auditorium. For the first time, I felt in control. Even if it was just an illusion.
Now, it’s all fine and dandy to be a sassy little bee in a school full of kids you’ve known since kindergarten. It’s another thing to continue that “confidence” into an entirely new situation.
The first year of university dealt a devastating blow to my confidence. Thankfully by 18, I’d mastered the control of my bladder. Instead, I struggled to keep up with the presentations we were expected to give.
I did an arts degree. A bachelor's in photography, to be specific. Every two weeks we had to bring in our work for critic.
Let me paint you a picture:
You’re a country girl, age 18, who’s just rode a train 2 hours into the city. You got the (terrible) photos you took over the weekend printed out at the office supply store, and now you’re sitting in a room of 30 people, all with their own insecurities that are manifesting into a plethora of defence mechanisms. You watch as the swarm of students move from one set of images to another. Like a hive of disappointed bees, they stare blankly at each new photo — nodding in agreement with their queen bee as she tears each student a new one.
Can you imagine the sheer panic? The adrenaline?
I won’t pretend now that it was anywhere near as dramatic as it seemed at the time. But for baby Ellisha, this was one of the most uncomfortable things she’d ever had to do.
I would spend the whole three hours panicking. Thinking and overthinking about what might be said, what I should’ve done, how I could escape that god-awful room. Eventually, my old protection mechanism kicked in — and it came in 10 fold.
I stopped thinking. I only did.
I started going into critics impatient to leave and keep shooting. I brushed off comments with humour or disinterest. I had a goal — a certain project to finish or a quota of shoots to hit — and nothing would distract me from it. I refused to think anymore. I was sick of wasting my time worrying about what others thought, or how I could improve. I was just going to do it instead.
One could argue this was the better approach. It won me some success. I got better at photography. I was constantly honing the skill. Shooting so much taught me a lot about talking to strangers and making connections. The problem was that this mindset of being a “doer” very quickly bled out into other facets of my life.
Enter: The Ultimate Thinker
I had been raised with an emphasis on emotional intelligence. So by the time I left home, I was very much used to thinking and talking about my emotions. That never really went away. But what I wasn’t really ever taught was how to plan my life.
My parents allowed us to explore the world relatively freely. When I told them I wanted to go to university for photography, they were supportive. It was a “follow your heart, kid” kind of situation, which I appreciate — it was what I needed to do. But I was definitely living those early years by the seat of my pants, with very little idea of what I wanted in life. I had even less of an idea of how I could get it.
My unwillingness to think and only do further empowered this problem. I wasn’t allowing myself to stop even for a minute to think about what I wanted the next few years of my life to look like — nor did I dedicate much time to planning my photography career. I was just going to get it done.
It was a shock then, when I met Devin. Here was a boy who thought enough for the both of us…plus another 15 people. But he sure didn’t think the way I did.
The morning after he first stayed the night, Devin got up, sat in front of my full-length mirror and started doing Wim Hoff breathing exercises. I watched, a little stunned, as he violently sucked air in and out of his mouth, before holding his breath. We sat in eerie silence — my breathing the only sound in the room for 2 whole minutes, after which Devin started telling me all about Wim Hoff. Eventually, we found ourselves talking about Bruce Lee, martial arts and fitness.
We spent most of the day together, talking and thinking. We talked about business, uni, my hopes for the future, his plans to join the army, illustration, dogs. Everything.
In the weeks that followed, we saw each other almost every day. It felt like we needed to. All of a sudden, here was a person who expressed all the thoughts that I’d been holding at bay (and a few I’d never in a million years would’ve touched on). Thinking felt safe with him. It felt exciting. Intoxicating!
Over the last 5 years, Devin has been teaching me the power of thinking. Not overthinking, but actual, impactful and logical thinking. The kind of thinking that leaves you with something tangible and a heart full of inspiration — that brings about the much-needed clarity and purpose I was lacking. In turn, I like to think I’ve helped him do more — to take action quicker. In other words, we’ve balanced each other out.
Funnily enough, it’s because of this dynamic that I’ve recently been able to identify the cause of my old protection mechanism. A little something called extrinsic rejection.
Gaining Emotional Clarity
According to value science, there are three lenses through which we can see life.
- Systemic = rules and regulations
(emphasising personal comfort and safety) - Extrinsic = social comparison
(emphasising social dynamics or feelings such as shame, guilt, pride, etc.) - Intrinsic = inherent and infinite potential
(emphasising the growth and exploration of something, someone, or even, yourself)
But we can also reject these lenses.
When we reject the extrinsic, we refuse to reflect on how we compare within the social world. This is often something that happens when we feel devalued. We bottle ourselves up and put a barrier between us and the cause of our discomfort, just as I became a “doer” to justify not having to face criticism, or being vulnerable to what other people thought of my work.
I built a whole identity around my extrinsic rejection. I found the perfect excuse to never have to stop and reflect on what I was doing, or what I wanted. I was simply “too busy”.
Almost 5 years later and after a lot of reflection, I’m able to fully understand that that was actually a protection mechanism. I only now know how damaging my refusal to reflect was. I ended up wandering around for years because of it. I failed to take up opportunities that were staring me in the face.
And although I’m very happy with how my life has turned out so far, I know I could have gotten a lot further in my photography career and other endeavours, if I had just let myself think for a little bit longer.
These days, whenever I find myself doubling down on “just doing”, I stop. I know it will only lead to me blindly pushing for what I think I want. It’ll never get me to where I truly want to be.
Instead, I try to lead with curiosity. If I go into every situation wanting to explore it — asking myself “what if” — it’s incredibly hard to lock up and just do. Being curious is the perfect balance between doing and thinking. It’s active participation from a state of emotional clarity. It opens doors and allows you to feel comfortable once you step inside. No need to put on blinders and barge through. No need to overanalyse before acting.
All you need to do is wonder.
Keep growing, Ellisha x
P.S. I have a self-assessment tool that can help you gain some emotional clarity in just 10 minutes. Go to my website to try it for free.
