Getting Comfortable with Being Bad at Things

When your dream life requires you to be seen

I struggle to be visibly bad at things. I prefer to suffer in silence!

Last week, I was on a call with my friend Nicole, who has been helping me with all things Shelbi HQ, including branding, strategy, design, and listening to me spiral. We were reviewing a video concept I was working on, and she gave me thoughtful notes and encouragement to keep trying.

The call ended. And suddenly, I was crying at my desk.

I can and will cry, but I’m thankful!

Before I could shame myself for this little burst of involuntary emotion, I just sat there and let the tears fall. This is what I signed up for, I reminded myself. I wake up every day grateful for the opportunity to build my dream life. And when I look at the ever-growing list of what it takes to make said dream possible, I feel overwhelmed because I haven’t done most of these things before.

Take content creation, for example.

I’ve created a few TikToks without a clear strategy. The ones that have taken off are a random assortment: a 2023 performance at Generation Women, a clip about Mel Robbins’ “Let Them” theory, and a Quiet Storm playlist I posted years ago. I have less than 3,000 followers and haven’t posted consistently. I’ve shared one reel on Instagram since I quit my job in March. But I do have a tiny mic, so… watch this space.

The truth is, creating content overwhelms me. I want to be good at it. I’m not bad at content creation, but I’m not good at it without trying, and that’s hard for me. I overthink everything: the hook, the lighting, the background. I worry I’ll go on a tangent and lose the plot.

Ironically, big, ambitious goals don’t scare me as much as this does.

When Spotify hosted a podcast competition at CultureCon a couple of years ago, the entry rules required a brand-new original show. So I created one. I asked my friend Katherine to co-host, and together we recorded a trailer for a show called Table Pancakes—all because I wanted to apply for the competition. We didn’t win, but a whole season of the show exists because I wasn’t afraid to go for it.

Most recently, I’ve been working on a video for the TEDx Global Idea Search. Applying to give a TED Talk is less scary to me than posting consistently on Instagram. There’s something about the polish of a big application that feels easier for me. I’m expected to present my most prepared, thoughtful, and articulate self. It’s clear who I need to be.

But showing up in a sweatshirt, rambling about a song I like, or a podcast you should listen to feels harder. I struggle to show my personality casually, even though I know I have a good one.

Being loud about what I’m building is new to me, and more vulnerable than I expected.

I could build a business without content. But let’s be honest, in 2025, that’s the longer road. Creating content is the shortest distance between where I am and what I want to achieve.

This feeling was written on my face because, right before we hung up, Nicole reassured me, “We'll try this route, and if you end up hating it, we’ll lean into other strategies.”

Without much thought, I responded, “No. I’ll do it.”

Even if it overwhelms and occasionally brings me to tears.

I haven’t worked in an office in over five years, so my morning routine is primarily focused on skincare, brushing my teeth, and throwing on workout clothes. I rarely wear makeup or get dressed, despite having a closet full of non-spandex clothing. I don’t always feel cute enough to be on camera. Somehow, a TikTok feels more daunting than performing live at Joe’s Pub (which I’m doing again at Generation Women next week—shameless plug).

My typical wfh look

I recently started seeing a new therapist, and in just three sessions, she’s already read me. This week, we discussed self-concept, which refers to our perception of ourselves. And for someone whose work centers on identity and authenticity, the irony is not lost on me.

My self-concept is getting in the way of content creation.

I love writing and podcasting because I can show up without you needing to know what my apartment looks like or what my hair is doing that day. But with the continual rise of video podcasts and short-form content, my version of hiding is on its way out.

I always thought I didn’t mind being perceived. It turns out that, in this specific context, I do. My ideal self isn’t the one writing this letter in glasses, an oversized T-shirt, and leopard-print shorts. It’s the version of me with the perfect lighting, outfit, and script. The version of me that’s stylish and camera-ready.

But the truth is, I spend more time as oversized t-shirt Shelbi than polished Shelbi.

So I’m working on letting go of the idea that I need to be great at something before I start or that I need to show up as my best self every time. Let’s embrace the cringe.

We can’t control how we’re perceived, but we can choose to show up anyway. And if you see me posting a video on social media, put me out of my misery and like it 😇

As always, thank you for reading Define Normal. You can send me a message to continue the conversation. Otherwise, you can find me on IG, TikTok, or the Define Normal podcast.