Silencio, Bruno! Silencing self-doubt in adulthood
If you have kids (and even if you don’t!), you might be familiar with the Disney movie “Luca.” In it, a sweet sea monster, Luca, learns he can transition into a real boy through an unlikely friendship with a fellow sea monster, Alberto. Together they acclimate into an Italian town, make friends and enter a huge summer race, all the while learning about friendship, courage, and being true to yourself.
Luca is the nervous Nelly. Alberto, the brash I-can-do-anything kid, pushes Luca out of his comfort zone. Together they hobble together scrap metal and other discarded household items to make their version of a Vespa: their symbol of freedom. Alberto wants to ride it down a mountain and off a cliff. Luca, reasonably scared of the endeavor, tells Alberto he can’t ride it with him. That’s when Alberto lets Luca know that he’s not scared, he just has a “Bruno” in his brain and he needs to tell it to be quiet. Luca is obviously confused, so Alberto explains, “I get one, too, sometimes. ‘Alberto, you can’t.’ ‘Alberto, you’re gonna die.’ ‘Alberto, don’t put that in your mouth.’ Luca, it’s simple. Don’t listen to stupid Bruno.”
And with that, they race the barely held together “Vespa” down the mountain. And while, predictably, it falls apart just as Luca and Alberto are over the water, Luca gains a sense of confidence he never experienced before. You feel him trusting himself in a way he never had before. He is ready for a new adventure.
I’m a sap, so I cry for most of “Luca.” But it touches me not just because it is a beautifully told story of friendship with all those lovely Disney ping-points they know how to hit so well, but also because I remember when I was a child and felt a similar way: That fear mixed with excitement that bursts through your chest when you succeed. And then you chase it, again, and again, and again.
Until you become an adult and we somehow stop chasing. The fear becomes too strong or our confidence wanes. Probably both. The stakes perhaps get too high or our disappointment when we don’t “win” becomes too big.
I have written about this theme before. I have always had a high tolerance for fear. I lived abroad for 10 years, jumped out of planes (twice), started a business, got divorced, am currently dating as a single mom, speak in front of large audiences — heck, even writing this article each month can hit me with a good dose of Bruno. In today’s world, fear and uncertainty seem to be a part of our daily lives. Leaders are not immune.
But when my own “Bruno” comes, I tell him to shut up. Or as Alberto much more politely puts it: “Silencio, Bruno!” I don’t want to lose that wide-eyed childhood wonderment of “what if?” What if I succeed?
What is your Bruno? Starting a business? Asking for a promotion? Applying for a new job? Trying something new? What if all that fear was something you created for yourself, and as quickly as you created it, you could tell it to f-off?
If so, Silencio, Bruno!
