I recently watched The Suicide Tourist on PBS, which chronicles a high school classmate of mine’s father’s (Craig Ewert’s) journey to obtain an assisted suicide after being diagnosed with ALS.  I tuned in because I personally knew the family and had been alerted about it on Facebook.

I was moved by the story of a family dealing with losing their father.  I lost my own mother a few years ago and I know what hardship it is to lose a parent early in life.

However, instead of being sad at the end of the film, I was in awe.  I was blown away by the strength of their family (this coming from someone with a very strong family) and their ability to be courageous in the face of very, very harsh criticism.  Watching the film, reading the articles and the son’s Facebook posts filled me with pride from just barely being associated with this family.

I am so impressed by the Ewart family, and will use their story as a reminder of what real courage is.  And what a strong support system can do.  Thank you, thank you Ewerts.  I am so sorry for your loss, and I am so happy to know you.

However, there’s a different kind of fear that can creep up and debilitate you without ever raising its flag to indicate to you the level of importance of something.  This fear is so tricky that you wouldn’t even call it fear.   You call it “rules” or “conservative estimates” or “wise criticism”.  This fear is fueled by what other people think, or more accurately what you THINK other people will think.

Yesterday I was on a panel at the Columbia Women In Business Conference discussing starting a start-up.  All the panelists were asked to give our “60-second Elevator Pitch” to kick off the panel.  The night before, my debilitating fears, or what I call my “Gremlins” drove me to review my elevator pitch, outline what I was going to say, and fret about how good the others would be and what they would think of mine.

As I sat waiting my turn to “pitch” I observed everyone following the rules – they politely and professionally passed the microphone from panelist to panelist and gave their succinct pitch.  They were good.  I was scared.   And miraculously, my stomach started churning and I thought “WAIT!  This is super-important!  I need to do what I need to do here, not what I think others need me to do!”  When I got the mic, I stood up and asked everyone to put their feet flat on the ground and close their eyes for a few seconds.  I asked them to imagine what their life would be like 5 years from now – who they were with, what they were doing, what they were feeling.  When they opened their eyes I told them “This is what I do – I help people and organizations get from where they are today to where they want to be. ”   and passed the mic on to the next panelist. I broke the rules, but I knew everyone would walk away not only knowing exactly what I did, but who I am.

In that moment I saw clearly the difference between debilitating fear (gremlins) and motivating fear (passion) and reconfirmed that I needed to stop listening to the ones that come from my head, and pay very close attention to the ones that come from my heart.