On Visiting Nantucket, Turning 28, and Being Confident in the Stories We Tell
You have a story, but are you sure it's the one you've been telling?
This is the question I've been asking my 1:1 clients and explored with my students in Personal Brand Accelerator. It's also the question I pondered while visiting Nantucket for my 28th Birthday this past weekend.
Have you been? It was my first time. And I don't know if it's because it's an island, or that every building looks like it belongs in Architectural Digest, but I felt like I was in Disneyland for adults.
Picture this: real cobblestone streets and hydrangeas on every corner, shingle-style cottages that sprinkle the island, and people driving to and fro in their Jeep Wanglers or Broncos. It's a vibe--nothing short of a vibe!
I had no agenda for the day except a sailing lesson at the Nantucket Community Sailing Club at 11:15. My instructor was Rosa, a 20-year old university student from Ireland who is on a working Visa for the summer. She was sharp and friendly and I warmed to her instantly because she made me feel like a pro on the water. She told me she learned to sail when she was just 8 years old, and I enjoyed listening to the way she told her story: simple, honest, and available.
After my lesson, I ate lunch and strolled alongside shops and eateries before wandering down a side-street that took me away from the center of town. Luckily, I had my camera, and used my detour as an excuse to spend the afternoon staring into my viewfinder and taking pictures, only to be disappointed because--somehow--no photo could capture the essence of what I was seeing. I thanked myself for trying. Good on you, I thought, then found a bike shop and rented a cruiser which I took to the beach.
I didn't have a towel or anything with me, but I jumped into the water anyway, leaving my belongings on the beach and dunking my head into the Atlantic ocean. The sun was shining and there was a gentle breeze that dried me off quickly as I walked away from the water to sit on the sand. I people-watched for the rest of the afternoon, thinking that I missed my friends in California, but I craved this time to think and reflect and was content to be alone.
Before boarding my ferry back to Cape Cod, I found myself at a local bar called the Brotherhood of Thieve's. A friend of mine told me I had to go and meet the bartender, Stan, who would be expecting me. She was right. As I walked inside, locals swarmed the dimly-lit bar and I felt slightly out-of-place until I noticed who I hoped was Stan standing behind the bar. I waved as though I had known him my whole life.
He smiled. Maybe I did.
As I climbed onto the barstool, I didn't feel threatened or afraid of the men who were staring. I didn't cower when asking for a diet coke instead of a cocktail. I didn't mind so much what they were thinking; whether I was drinking, what I looked like, or how good my 'small-talk' skills were.
Instead, I sipped my soda with confidence and thought about saying goodbye to 27. It was the year I gave up alcohol, hired a bookkeeper, organized my finances... and said no to a lot of things that weren't good for me. Now at 28, I can see these changes are having a positive affect on my life.
Stan and I swapped stories before I had to catch the ferry home. My day ended the way it began, thinking about the stories we tell.
Had I shared authentically today? Had Stan? What about Rosa? I'd like to think so. I also know that speaking authentically comes with practice. It's a skill we must hone if we want to be sure and confident in the story we tell. This doesn’t require acting or playing a part, it requires being yourself and showing up: simple, honest, and available.
If you wonder about the story you're telling, maybe PBA is your best next step.
Love and light,
Anna Vatuone
