How have you bound yourself to the lies that consume your joy while soothing your fears? What do those stories look like that make it okay for you to not live out the promise of you?
It's different for all of us and what seems easy for one is like walking through lava for another so, no judgement.
Me? You can dare me to do almost anything, and I'll do it. Go to dinner alone, get lost in a foreign land, go riding on the back of a Harley with a biker I'd just met, perform burlesque at 55, go back to college at 48, leave a toxic marriage, religion, job without a net...I've done it.
But ask me to allow people to see me struggle? No thanks. I'd rather swim a mile in icy water.
Case in point, while working on an independent film, I thought I was having a heart attack. People were all around me but I was looking for a bush or something to hide behind so they couldn't see me struggle. It radiated from my chest, up my throat and my knees threatened to buckle as the pain continued to bloom. My mouth watered with the threat of turning me into a fountain of sick and still I didn't ask the women who came up to talk to me for help. All I kept thinking was, "Relax, breathe, look normal and then hide as soon as she's done." (Turns out it was an esophageal spasm).
The lies I tell myself are that no one wants to hear from a loser who is fatter than she's ever been, lost everything and is living in a dilapidated trailer in the midst of redneck Texas without so much as a car to drive.
Other lies I've told myself throughout my life are that I'm not old enough. Funny how it quickly turned into "I'm too old." Add to that:
I'm not good enough.
I'm not smart enough.
I'm not cool enough.
I don't know how to start.
I'm always slipping between the cracks.
Nobody likes me.
Nobody cares what I have to say.
I'm not worthy.
I'm a fraud.
I'm bad.
I'm too fat.
I'm too tall.
My skin is too pink.
I don't have the money.
Noone will help me.
I'm too busy with kids.
I have a husband.
I don't have a husband.
I failed last time.
I was humiliated - I could never do it again.
People will laugh at me.
People will ignore me.
It's no use.
My (insert relationship) won't approve.
And that's just the tip of the iceberg.
Then I came up with a two-year plan to lose weight, get strong, become a better dancer, performer, speaker. Walk the talk and become the polished version of the promise of me so that I felt like I had a right to share with you what I learned along my own journey. To be an effective and reliable cheerleader and lighthouse for those who need one.
And then I had three friends from three different parts of the world and who don't know each other, tell me to let go of the two-year plan and trust myself. That I would know when I should start.
So, here I am, fat and sassy and full of vinegar (only a little bit) and jumping in with both feet. Because how can I tell you that you are good enough, smart enough, wise enough, beautiful enough...and just enough as you are to live out the promise of you if I'm not doing it myself?
I can't. So, I am happy to share that gone is the two-year plan, and here is the truth, rawness and promise of me.
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