Shaking Off The Copycat Way Of Being
I used to be a copycat in a way.
It was more than a fake-it-till-you-make-it way of being. It was the unheard cry of one who didn’t know herself, her role, her place, how she fit into this big, mad world.
I’d buy a black “business suit” - you know the cut blazer and trousers, toss in a nice scarf for a bit of color and to keep me warm. And that’s how I’d show up at events. Add some heeled boots, ‘cause well, I never did learn how to walk in heels. And bam, I’d look the part.
Oh and of course drop the money on a blow-out because hot damn, good hair matters… especially when I never figured out the whole make-up thing. A swipe of mascara and good to go…
Pretending to be a successful me.
A Business Version of Me.
The me that could go places, because when people saw me, they’d KNOW I had it together…
I mean, seriously, who doesn’t have their sh*t together when dressed “correctly”, right?
I did the same with workout clothes.
Get me some yoga threads, some pants that will rock the pilates reformer and even if I don’t make class or give my all, I’ll still “look” like I know what I’m doing.
I did this with classes and learning, systems and tech, shiny-object to shiny-flipping-object until so many guru voices rattled in my head they even competed with my own f-ed up monkey chatter.
Why can’t you rock this?
Why can’t you figure this out?
Just do more.
Just learn from him.
What about her?
What’s wrong with you anyway?
Get a coach.
Do another program.
Follow the damn steps.
Why isn’t this working?
Damn, am I that broken?
Do I need therapy…?
I did this with my work and creating a brand — a website.
Oh, doesn’t Marie so-and-so’s site look divine.
Yep, she’s got an eye.
Her design team, spot on.
I can make some tweaks and get that looking similar but just different enough to kind of be me… whatever me looks like.
But who am I even?
What am I even doing online?
What am I even selling?
Why am I here?
Who’s gonna listen?
And what the heck is wrong that I think I can take up space..?
Time to read another book and sink into some more Self Help Magic cause that sh*t wears off if you’re not paying attention.
Maybe a podcast?
Another system?
Oh look at that new platform for classes!
‘Founding member you say…’
I’ll wait for launch day.
Put me on hold...again.
Because who am I anyway.
I sure as heck don’t know.
I once would lay awake and wonder how I got into this mess…
Why is he,
the one who lays beside me,
so bloody confident,
so secure, so sure…
His absolute knowing of he makes me feel even more confused
More lacking
More lost
More afraid that this black hole might become suffocating.
I kept running toward something, anything—
and still I never found me.
I made myself ill, mad, frenzied and so incredibly lost.
Tired was the me
even after eight hours of sleep.
And that need to discover,
to uncover,
to figure ME out
lead me to the here and now.
And I thank all that IS because without it,
this journey into me,
well, I’d still be that
copycat version of me.
Posting random motivational quotes, ACTING the part of a put-together woman with Insta-fake goodness about my world while inside screaming “someone please see the real me that’s slowing coming apart at the seams.”
Now there was no guru to chase, no first place to win, no steps to the top, no set path to “greatness”. And THAT nearly undid me. Which was the point…
Instead, I had to sit with me.
Instead, I had to get cozy with me.
Instead, I had to stop running away—
From my life
From myself
From my past
From my present
From my future
From my love
of me.
I had to stop.
I had to BE.
WTF is that anyway..?
BE
was my brain’s reaction.
And man, did I want to shout that at times, but when I paused…
When I stopped
When I slowed down
When I sat with myself
When I took a breath
Holy sh*t did I uncover something profound.
I didn’t like me.
I didn’t love me.
I didn’t want to be around me.
And well, that’s a concern as there was no escaping me.
All the running in the world was never going to get me away from what I hated, what I didn’t value—
myself.
My wake up call was realizing I didn’t like me.
My wake up call was realizing I wasn’t grateful for all I had because I felt I deserved none of it.
Because I was so NOT worth it. So not worthy.
I had to strip myself down, sit with my own damn self and realize I didn’t like me.
I had to stop putting on a brave face, stop pretending I had it all together and acknowledge that my self-esteem account didn’t even have a penny left in its bank.
I was on empty.
And it showed in my struggling marriage.
It showed in the way I cast blame.
It showed in how I just wanted to be heard—
Oh poor, victim was me.
It showed in my deep, dark depression.
It showed in the fake-ass smile I gave to the world
and the sadness I could no longer hide
that constantly brought tears to my eyes.
It showed up in my health, my gut, my dangerously low iron.
It was the universe saying, really?
You don’t want to live…
You really feel that way?
You really don’t like you, the you made perfectly imperfect just as intended..?
Well, let’s drain you of that heavy metal—
the iron you need to survive and see if you don’t wake the f-up!
And thankful, I woke up.
I woke up and came to life again.
I woke up and started to FEEL and it hurt at times.
I woke up and realized I WANT to love myself.
I DO love myself.
I learned how to add not just pennies to my self-worth account but thick, solid, heavy-as-hell GOLD bars each and every day, times three.
I learned how to BE with myself.
The hardest and most rewarding of lessons.
I learned silence
And that lead me to peace.
And ease.
And flow.
And allowing.
And grace.
And forgiveness.
And joy.
Were there bumps along the pathway?
Absolutely.
But a taste of that peace,
after living in such a desolate,
constantly moving,
trying to escape myself hell,
Well, that taste of peace was…is divine.
That peace was EPIC.
That peace was MINE.
And I opened my arms, my heart, my soul to it wide—
And stepped forward in faith.
I let it be easy.
I let myself love me… and the world, my world, righted itself… one degree at a time.
💜
Photo Credit: Markus Spiske @markusspiske
