Early morning mist hangs in the air and like a five year old on my first day of Kindergarten, I almost skip across the busy intersection at the corner of Burrard and Hastings. As of 12 hours ago, I gave up the keys to my apartment and I am now about to see Brene Brown speak. The next chapter has officially begun…

Then, mid-stride, I glance to the right, and the tip of one of the white sails of the old convention centre catches my eye. A little lump gathers in my throat as images of October 27, 2009 flash through my mind. Can it really be almost two years since the Moment My Life Changed forever?

As if my brain is a crowded etch-a-sketch that needs to be cleared, I give my head a shake and then pull open the heavy glass door in front of me. Giant wooden columns and floor to lofty-ceiling windows dwarf the convention centre “stewardess” who stands in the entryway and gives me her warmest, “it’s 7:00am and I LOVE my job” smile. When I say Brene Brown, she points upwards

I can smell fresh coffee in the air and although I am late for the pre-workshop breakfast, I still duck into a ladies room because my damn nerves always make me think I need to pee. You might be asking yourself why I’m nervous. So, I guess I should give you the back story. Even though it’s a long one, I’ll try to keep it as short as possible.

Recently, I wrote a post called Dreams, Fears, and Freedom, where I told you about the online course, Mondo Beyondo, and shared some inspiring words by Andrea Scher, Brene Brown, and Martha Beck.

But, I haven’t yet told you about the surreal moment, the morning after I wrote the post. I woke up, reached for my Blackberry, and immediately scrolled through my emails. As I scrolled, I noticed an email alerting me to a new comment on my post. When I opened the message, I saw the name Brene and thought, “no way”; then I saw the last name Brown and almost fell out of my bed. I first watched Brene’s talk on the Power of Vulnerability almost a year ago and since then have read her book, The Gifts of Imperfection, and subscribed to her blog, Ordinary Courage. It didn’t seem possible that someone who had achieved her level of success had just taken the time to comment on my blog.

But stay with me…the story isn’t over yet. I stumbled out of bed, put on the kettle for tea, and sat down to write. When I flipped open my journal, I saw an entry from the day before and my mouth dried up. As part of a Mondo Beyondo exercise, I had drawn a line down the middle of a piece of paper. On the left side, I wrote what I would do to make my dreams a reality and on the right side, what I needed the universe to do to help me out. While completing the exercise, I will admit to thinking, “Ok, I’ll do this fluffy universe exercise, but I don’t expect anything to come of it.”

Less than 24 hours later, I saw the list again and blinked hard. No way. I stood up from the table. Circled my apartment five times. Sat back down. Listened to the squealing of the kettle. Read Brene’s comment again. Read my list again. There at the top of the universe side, in my writing, it said, “Meet Brene Brown” even though I had no recollection of making that statement.

Brene’s comment was about what freedom meant to her and her words did the front crawl through my mind all morning. On a long, rainy, gumboot wearing walk by the beach, the beginning of an email to her began constructing itself in my mind. I tried to dismiss it, but as I walked,  I felt more and more COMPELLED to write to her. To thank her for her comment. To ask her if the bigger her career got, the harder it was to remember that her worthiness had nothing to do with her work? To tell her that even if she never wrote another book, gave another talk, or posted another blog entry, she had profoundly impacted my life.

When I stepped out of my boots in my apartment, I didn’t even take off my jacket as I composed and revised the email. I read it out loud to myself to make sure I didn’t sound crazy. But, even still…as soon as I pressed send, I wanted to claw into the screen and get it back. Who was I to suggest anything to Brene Brown? What do I know about worthiness? She is the shame researcher with the Phd in Social Work and the published books, and speaking engagements all over the world. I am JUST a girl who survived cancer, writes a blog, and is living on a dream.

After reading her comment and writing that email, I knew I had to find the $150 to come to her workshop. So, I sold my antique dresser and here I am. In the bathroom, hiding, because I know I should find the courage to introduce myself to Brene. But, I’m worried she will think I’m a lame groupie. Besides, what if I she thought my email was pathetic, presumptuous, and not worth responding to?

As I wash my hands, I give myself a pep talk (albeit a slightly less boisterous one than the little girl in this You Tube video) and tell myself to relax. Isn’t Brene’s message really about authenticity and having the courage to tell your story and be who you are?

When I step out of the bathroom, I almost collide with a petite, blond woman heading towards the meeting rooms. She looks familiar but I can’t quite place her until two other workshop attendees call out from behind, “We’re coming to hear you speak! Hi Brene. Welcome to Vancouver”.

Then, I am walking alongside Brene, asking about her flight, her hotel, and how she likes Vancouver. We banter back and forth. She disappears into the conference room to get set up, and I breathe in and out and pretend I’m not pinching myself. Even though I didn’t tell her about my blog, or give her my name, I have technically “met” her, so maybe I can check it off my universe list.

The next 90 minutes fly by. Brene talks about how we either over-function or under-function in times of anxiety (yes, I am a massive over-functioner); gives us strategies for cultivating hope in our lives; and suggests that we cut a piece of 1″ by 1″ paper and write down the names of the people whose opinions really matter to us. Then, we should forget about trying to win approval from everyone else. Easier said than done, I think, as I obsess about whether she approved of my email or not and whether I should introduce myself at all.

It feels like five minutes later when the intermission arrives. I’m seated near the front. Brene is less than 20 feet away. I force myself to stand up, to walk towards the stage, and to hover (like an awkward pre-teen girl at a Justine Bieber concert) while she speaks to two people in front of me.

When it’s my turn, my voice comes out in a high pitched, fast, breathy squeak, “Hi Brene. I wanted to introduce myself. My name is Terri and I want to thank you for your comment on my recent blog about Dreams, Fears, and Freedom. I appreciate it.”

She looks at me and I see her mind clicking over. Her expression changes, but I’m too distracted to interpret it, “You’re the one who wrote that email, right?”

For a second, I almost deny it. But, I force myself to nod and instantly hustle for her approval, “oh, but I know you’re busy, so no worries about not replying.”

She looks away for a moment before her green eyes connect with mine. “Thank you,” she says, “Your email changed my life.”

At least this is what I think she says. The room spins and I can’t hear anything else because the roaring blare of shock has made me momentarily deaf. My email changed your life? No, your work changed my life! 

My face flushes. I stutter over my words as I say thank you and struggle to say something impressive and articulate, but settle for the truth, “I meant every word of my email.”

She says, “I could tell. That’s why it pushed me into action. I have been so busy acting on your email that I haven’t had the chance to reply.”

We hug. I pretend I’m not about to cry. Then, I back away (even though I want to stay and chat with her for the rest of the morning) because a line has formed and I don’t want people to think I am a greedy fan who won’t stop monopolizing her time.

My moment with Brene happened a week ago and as I sit writing from the dining room table at my parent’s house, looking out at the gorgeous fall colours, I almost feel like I dreamt it.

I am not telling you this story because it sounds good and I want to impress you. I am not even telling you this story so that you will start writing lists for the universe and start taking steps to make your dreams a reality (although I am even more of a believer than I was before).

I am telling this story because it taught me an important lesson. It taught me that whenever I feel really compelled to say or do something (like I felt compelled to write that email to Brene), I shouldn’t automatically discredit myself. I shouldn’t assume the person in question couldn’t possibly need to hear my message because I am not smart enough or well educated enough to say anything of value to her.

I hope, you too, are learning to trust your intuition and follow your gut. You might never know the end result of your words, but if you feel compelled to tell someone about the impact she has made on your life, say it. Because, regardless of whether we are at the height of success in our careers or are asking for money on a street corner, we are all the same. And, sometimes… we all might need a gentle reminder of our worthiness.