Navigating the Fear of Other People’s Opinions

How to Dance with FOPO Without Stepping on Your Own Toes

For a span of two years, my mailbox became the unexpected drop-off point for an anonymous individual's handwritten hate mail.

As for whether these letters continue to find their way to me today, I remain blissfully unaware—having handed over the task of mail collection to someone else. These letters were exactly as you'd imagine: distressing, jarring, and chillingly effective in silencing me. It felt as though a troll had leapt out of the internet and into real life, echoing the harshest critiques I feared others harbored about me—that I was nothing more than a self-promoting show-off, better off silenced. This barrage of negativity wasn't just an attack; it was a mirror reflecting the worst perceptions I believed the world held of me.

Four and a half years ago (yes, time for a gulp), my journey with my latest musical began—not on a grand stage, but rather humbly, as a series of blog posts. Little did I know, these initial musings, a deeply personal account of my battle with illness that veered into a mental health crisis, were laying the groundwork for what would eventually evolve into a full-fledged script.

This venture into writing and sharing my own narrative, as you might guess, opened the floodgates to some less-than-favorable feedback. Despite the passage of time, the shadow of those responses looms over me. Each day, as I nonchalantly stroll by the mailbox, (I don’t get the mail anymore), I can't help but wonder if another unsolicited critique has arrived. This constant undercurrent of anticipation—or perhaps apprehension—is a stark reminder of the backlash that often accompanies the act of putting one's work (and soul) out into the world.

This experience was the epitome of a FOPO (Fear of Other People's Opinions) nightmare, confirming my deepest anxieties about sharing my personal journey through performance and writing. 

It was as if my fears had been given a voice, and that voice was telling me to retreat.

And it worked. Retreat I did. After a period of silence that lasted about nine months—a time I used to fortify myself—I plunged back into my creative endeavors with renewed vigor, determined to focus on the work I was meant to pursue.

The truth is, conquering FOPO might be akin to chasing a horizon; it's a battle that never truly ends. It's a pervasive force, one that I've observed crippling the ambitions of friends, family members, students, and colleagues alike, locking them in a standstill of doubt and hesitation.

Countless individuals find themselves ensnared by FOPO, caught in a ceaseless cycle of preparation without progress, creation without revelation, or in some cases, a complete cessation of their efforts. They are stuck in an endless loop, always on the brink of action but never quite stepping into the arena. Some even resort to sharing quotes of others' art on Instagram as a means of expression, a placeholder for their own voice. And yes, I've been there too—so no judgment here. It's a common detour on the creative journey, a manifestation of the struggle between the desire to express oneself and the fear of external judgment.

Crafting a straightforward, “four-step” escape plan from the clutches of FOPO feels disingenuous, mainly because it’s a battle I’m still actively fighting. Yet, as I navigate through this with the wisdom that comes with age and experience, there are two guiding lights I hold close:

• Embracing My Niche: I've come to accept that my work isn’t for everyone, and that’s perfectly okay. There’s a tight-knit group of about 500-1000 souls who’ve been my rock, showing up for me across the years at various performances and events. These folks get me. They're the audience I keep in my heart as I create, and their support has a way of gently expanding my circle, one friend at a time.

• Creative Work as Spiritual Practice: This concept might sound a bit nebulous, but it’s anything but. What I mean is, I’ve shifted my focus from obsessing over the final product—its reception, its success, its potential sales—to nurturing my inner peace through the creative process. It’s about valuing creation for how it enriches my spirit, not just for the accolades it might garner.

This approach isn’t about ignoring the desire for external validation but rather about re-centering my creative journey on personal growth and fulfillment.

A spiritual practice lays its foundations on authenticity and routine, aiming to deepen your self-awareness and comprehension. It's a structured pursuit of truth that nurtures the soul.

When you weave creativity into this spiritual tapestry, you elevate the practice. By integrating art, writing, movement, cooking, or any form of imaginative expression, you're not just engaging with yourself on a deeper level; you're also enhancing your connection with the broader tapestry of life. 

This creative spiritual practice invites intuition to play a leading role, encouraging the exploration of your inner landscape and its reflections in the world around you. It's about turning inward with the tools of creativity to forge a more intimate dialogue with your essence and the universe.

After I really got into this mix of creativity and spirituality, I started seeing my work in a new light. It had more meaning because it was part of a practice that was good for me in every way—making me healthier inside and out. This helped me worry less about who was watching or what they thought.

It all turned into a journey inward, rather than focusing outward. My work became more about my own growth and less about seeking approval from others. This change made the creative process a personal journey, where the real goal was my own peace and understanding, not applause or recognition.

Alright, I'll admit it—I still enjoy the applause. After all, it's art.

I stand by the idea that sharing your work is what truly makes it art. Some might disagree, but I'm sticking to my guns here. Art, to me, is all about communication, about sparking emotions and thoughts in others.

Trying to focus more on my inner health than on seeking approval from everyone else, is kind of like meditation—you work on it daily, and some days will feel more successful than others.

Remember to be kind to yourself through it all. I'm not for beating ourselves up over our creativity, like some sort of harsh old-school discipline.

As we navigate the complexities of our creative endeavors, let's remember that overcoming the Fear of Other People's Opinions (FOPO) isn't about silencing the outside world, but about amplifying our inner voice, ensuring that the most resonant applause we seek is our own, in harmony with our authentic journey.

Dive into an enriching dialogue between Dan Harris and Michael Gervais on FOPO. I'm currently exploring Gervais' book, too, which I've found to be both insightful and encouraging.