When Resistance Leads To Big Wins
A bit of a Confession Time Moment.
Ripped from the pages of my very own diary.
[Side note, when I lost this original word-share last night during a full-moon tech meltdown, I could have blown away, a shattered stone, turned to a spin of angry dust, but instead I settled, rooted.
I went deep within my core, and kept my peace.
Had a moment of damn it, of course, for I am after all human.
Thought, Rewrite it now? Or let it go.
I decided sleep was my answer and took my full moon witchy rest. So here I am back to reshare what disappeared last night into the ethers… And if you read to the very end, I’ll clue you in on exactly why I believe I lost those original delicious words.]
Warning: I drop F-Bombs here.
Less than two days ago, I “launched” a free FB group and met with so much fucking inner-resistance I all but turned to stone.
I put launched in quotes as all I did was put the group live…
I hadn't even invited a soul inside, yet, and already the steady march of bombarding thoughts hit again and again in crashing wave after dizzying wave of – let’s call a spade a spade…
I am not enough-ness.
Those thoughts tumbled and rolled, tensing my shoulders, sinking my belly and making me want to pull my covers up and hibernate into sleep.
I am an in-out girl.
I don’t wanna be responsible for this.
Oh my God, I don’t have the time for this.
Hell, what am I even doing?
I like working with people closely, not big groups.
I don’t even like being on social media!
Just no. This is silly.
Just no. I don’t wanna share.
That chatter was a Beastie Boys,
You Gotta Fight For Your Right To Paarty! moment,
going on inside my head.
But instead of a bunch of rowdy boys,
singing and jumping around with their hats on backwards,
having a blast...
My song was series after spinning series of
limiting beliefs,
cray-cray thoughts
A bunch of screeching monkeys
having a mind-blowing-bash inside my head.
And so I dove in deep, despite the discomfort.
I refused to retreat…
Instead, I posted these words on my profile page.
If someone writes a bestseller ...
Everyone knows about it.
If someone ghostwrites a bestseller ...
No one knows about it.
So far, 17 books I've ghostwritten have made the NYT Bestseller List.
Who wants to be number 18? Type ME in the comments and I'll invite you to my free Facebook group.
OMG, I even said out loud, I do not want to post this.
This felt like bragging and made me want to throw up a bit in my mouth.
And that’s why I said Fuck It, ENOUGH!
And posted the damn thing anyway.
Talk about empowering.
Not the action of posting these words to my FB profile page…
But to push through that No and do the uncomfortable thing anyway.
To witness the resistance.
To observe the chatter within.
To feel the discomfort, the itchy skin.
To be oh-so aware of my natural, unchecked desire to run far, far away.
To hide.
To pull the plug
To toss in the towel
Before I’ve even begun.
A repeat pattern,
threaded through my strands of DNA,
like pearls creating their own iridescent light.
A habit, ritual woven through
lifetimes, timelines
Not right
Not wrong
Simply a part of how I be.
Until now.
For yesterday, today, I chose a new way.
With that one send,
one press of a button,
one little itty meaningless post on my FB wall…
I cinched that flow of one step in and two steps out,
and tied it in a sweet, knotted bow.
No more depleting flow.
Today I grab the mic of my own life,
step into my warm slice of sunlight and give a battle cry.
Welcome to my house!
Where I am free to be me.
Thus you are free to be you.
Me shining bright does not steal from you, you or you.
And that right there is why I am pushing through.
Why this group,
whether a long-term thing or a POP UP experience,
is just where I need to be.
This is my Full Frontal Living moment.
Again
Damn. They just keep on a-coming.
The lessons I need.
The lessons I may not want.
And man, does it suck.
If I say it does.
To be out there as me.
To be no longer hiding
in the doing zone
of second-fiddle
to another’s belted out lead.
Why even though this group might be a “bad” idea,
a time suck,
a “waste” –
Although how can it be
if even one person is served,
then by my own motto,
I have won!
Damn, all I need do
is be the me
who just gets out of
my own old ass
(way of being)
way.
Are you hearing this?
Are you ready to do the same..?
The message received with an open heart –
through all the resistance
is simple.
I am no better than another.
I am not less than another.
I am.
The end.
No more monkey chatter,
No more drunk on depleting self talk parties
In my head.
Same goes for you.
You are you. Perfectly imperfect and so worthy of no longer pushing against the pull door of your own life.
If my words, my work, even my group
shares that message,
while helping others find their voice…
Write their words.
Tell their stories.
Just wow.
How selfish would I be
to not allow that free-rein
to come out and play, JOYfully.
If my actions allow someone to
Grab the mic
Publish their words
Own their spotlight
Find a dash more JOY
Sink into fucking deliciousness
Hot damn.
All this struggle, well-deserved, well-received
So I’m hitting POST here and now – again.
[Remember my side note comment at the start? The loss of my original words?
Well, you made it this far in your read, so let me tell you the secret I woke up to and already knew last night when those words – poof – disappear into full moon-soaked, tropical night air.
And no, I don’t blame the moon, although – powerful force! Snap!
But let’s not digress... and use up my daily word count. Ha! As if I have a limit… Now that’s fucking funny.
Okay, the reason I lost my words,
the lesson for me,
was so not about keeping my cool,
about not tossing my MacBook Pro,
cursing the tech Gods nor turning to stone and staying
Screw this, I knew I wasn’t meant to start a damn FB group anyway. I’m out. I quit. Peace, bitches!
Nope, the reason those words vanished was simple.
Expectation.
I planned to share those words in a few groups, on my Page, profile and go to sleep with a cat-ate-the-canary smile. Because I knew I’d wake up with a flood of people wanting into my kingdom. Wanting to tour my FB group and learn, engage with little old me.
I placed my order, with delight. Nothing wrong with that…
And then I started to count my requests in my head… before they even arrived.
So instead, I was forced – nix that, chose – to go count sheep and get my zzzs. To leave my expectations at the foot of my bed and be grateful for the words written and sprinkled aimlessly out into the night.
Never to land nor impact nor add to me me me.
Those words written had somehow become about ME and not those I was writing to inspire, share, serve.
A big-honking pill to swallow… but it didn’t hurt going down.
It didn’t hurt to be so self-aware
that I can quickly call bullshit on my own fine self.
I’m a work in progress... obviously.
And I’m JOYfully delighted by the fact that I didn’t blame me, shame me, step into poor me, the fucking world is always out to get me – negativity.
I once rolled that way…
A slippery slope of shit, happiness is forever out of sight.
But now my happiness, my JOY, is so much more important to me.
So I ground there and allow myself to simply observe, without a care. Without judgement.
Without digging bloody trenches in my own be-freckled skin.
And how utterly delicious it is to simply choose JOY,
to choose loving me –
happily.]
