My Blog
Tools and strategies for owning, valuing,
and celebrating your life.
Many of us become obsessed with 'doing' because we believe this defines who we are.
We 'do' all these things to try to prove that we aren't replaceable.
That we matter.
That we are important.
And not invisible.
But all this doing is clouding the real essence of who we are. We're actually losing ourselves in all the busy-ness - which ends up making us feel even more replaceable, more invisible.
Let’s get this straight.
I have never been a docile, passive or victim-y person. I have never appeared to be the damsel-in-distress-type. I’ve always had my snappy comebacks. My audaciously loud laugh. My sassy independence.
Yet for most of my adult life, concealed behind the tough exterior, was a woman (girl) secretly waiting to be saved.
I believed that if I just had the right guy. Or the right job. Or the right body. Or the right family.
Or maybe if I lived in the right place. Or fell into enough money.
That everything would be ok. That I would finally be safe.
Lovable.
That I would feel at home. That I would belong.
I don’t care if we’re talking about business, money, marriage or bodies. Look at every single person that is at the top of their game and you will see someone who has put in the hard work.
Too many of us avoid hard work because of the story we have about it. We tell ourselves that it’s too painful. It takes too much time. It won’t make a difference anyway. We think that by just showing up and passively going through the motions - that we’ll somehow arrive at success.
Go to my gym and look at the line-up of women on the cardio machines. On any given morning you’ll see Slumpie. She’s the woman bent over the magazine. Holding the sidebars to keep any discomfort at bay. Hunched over - not a bead of sweat. She passively spends an hour of her life. Daily. And has been doing this for months.
One of the most awesome feelings that we experience is the feeling of being proud of ourselves. Of knowing we did what we set out to do. Knowing that we didn’t stop or give up. Being able to look at ourselves in the mirror and say, “Yes. I did that.”
Unfortunately, most people set themselves up to almost never feel this feeling. They put ridiculous limitations on self-pride and don’t see what a powerful tool it can be. They dole out a few tiny crumbs of self-pride hidden under a mountains of self-cruelty.
Every single day, we have the opportunity to be proud of ourselves.
Every single day, we have the choice to do that thing. To follow through. To keep our promises.
Ask yourself: What will I be proud of today? And then go do it.
We are constantly making decisions.
Some of them are easy. Simple. Routine.
What to wear?
What to eat?
Which one to buy?
But every once in a while, we're faced with a pretty big decision.
A decision that might take us off the road we've been traveling. A road that we've grown to tolerate. Or even love.
A decision that has leads us straight into the unknown.
When to leave?
When to quit?
When to start?
Which way should I go?
I was in some form of debt for nearly 20 years.
The last three years of my life have been dedicated to radical debt eradication.
I didn't realize it at the time - but debt was kind of like my baby.
I thought about it constantly.
I would strategize about how to pay it down.
I would run numbers in my head.
I had a running calculation everytime I spent money.
Or made money.
I was obsessed.
This wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
It kept me passionate.
It kept me focused.
It provided momentum and motivation.
I used to wish that life was easier.
More fair.
I secretly wanted to be rescued. Or saved. Or at least have someone help me carry the weight of my journey here on this planet.
Maybe a man. A career. A friend. Fame. Money.
Could do the hard stuff for me.
So I tried subletting my life.
I tried to give away the property rights to my own self.
I tried handing over the responsibility.
The decisions.
And I found that I couldn't do it.
I can't be saved.
I can't be rescued.
And I don't want my life to be easier.
He's wearing a striped polo shirt with camouflage shorts and a ball cap. As if he's ready to go to war for a country club.
His mom is pitching. Major league style.
Overhand. Fast.
The bat is taller and heavier than he is.
He swings.
Hits it.
And keeps twisting.
And falls down backwards.
She chases the ball.
He gets up. Runs the imaginary bases with his arms up.
Home run.
Celebration.
How can I not fall in love with this kid?
I need your support.
You're not helping me enough.
I shouldn't have to do this all by myself.
How many times have we said this?
To our husbands. Coworkers. Family. Friends.
It's really just a fancy way to say:
You should be making my life easier.
We point our finger at the people around us and give them the job of taking the difficulty out of our existence. As if that is even possible.
And when our life doesn't feel easier - we blame them.
We say we aren't supported.
We say they should be doing more.
But the only way to feel anything is to think the thought that creates it. When we give another person the job of making us feel, we create immense suffering for ourselves.
Every time.
It was still dark outside. Customers had lined up with their lawn chairs and sleeping bags. Some had been there all night. The store had not opened yet, but the excitement buzzed around us. We were in the storeroom, receiving last minute training, watching videos from around the world showing our fellow employees, people just like us, handling a day like today.
My brilliant manager looked each one of us in the eye - and said:
Our store was built for days like this.
She explained to us that our store wasn't built for the average Tuesday afternoon, where we had one very friendly customer who knew exactly what they needed and just handed over their credit card to make a simple purchase.
Our store was built for days like today. Lines out the doors. Frustrated customers. Excited customers. Disappointed customers. Equipment not working. Employees going too slow. Or too fast. This was the day that our store was built for. And this is the job we signed up for.
