My Confession

If you asked me to describe the last few weeks, I would say, “I’ve been stuck in a swamp of my own making, full of toxic sludge keeping me stuck”.

I have struggled through a business mastermind program the entire way; trying to figure out what I can/should/need to be doing right now to increase my income doing things I enjoyed so I could quit my 9-5.

It’s made me anxious, fed my depression, upset my sleep and ability to dream regularly, it’s affected how I see my relationships and my own abilities.

And I’ve been angry. Resentful. Frustrated. And I’ll admit, albeit sheepishly, jealous of those around me. 

I feel emotions deeply, passionately, and they come quickly with force – much like the hurricane bettering the Canadian & US shores. 

While they are valid feelings, they are sometimes aimed in the wrong direction.

At lately, these feelings have been, and I’m only finally turning the light on myself after a much needed social media break.

It’s incredibly difficult to look at myself and say – you knew better. You’re angry at yourself. Frustrated with yourself. Not them. Not her or him. You. 

I’ve known for YEARS what I wanted to do with myself and my life. I’ve literally dreamed of it such clarity I could almost smell the air infused with scents of apple blossoms and crispness that only comes with country living.

Yet, as my social circle shifted to coaches and entrepreneurs, and I watched all these incredible women around me launching epic businesses NOW, my FOMO took over. 

I dove into book projects with an unknown publishing house, ignoring my gut over and over again because I thought “this is my chance to really see what I can do”.

Convincing myself I wasn’t getting where I wanted to go because I just didn’t know what to do, I enrolled in life coaching. Which as my coach said “you could have solved this your own if you just tried”. She was correct, I could have. I just hadn’t really tried.

But even still, change didn’t magically occur so I enrolled in more coaching to make it so, as if it was a magic wand and my coach a fairy godmother who would make all my dreams come true.

And when it call came to an end a year later and I wasn’t rocking a six figure a month business, wasn’t living my dream… and then realized I pissed away my entire summer, accomplishing none of the tasks I’d listed so I could set forth on my actual dream… 

I blamed my coach. 

I blamed the coaching world. 

I blamed the publishing house that threw away over 100 women like we were garbage.

I blamed everyone and everything…

Except the one person responsible.

Myself. 

I did this. 

I left my lane. 

I lost sight of my goal.

I caught a wicked case of comparisonitus.

I forgot what I was working towards and got impatient. 

I let my fear of missing out, of being left behind, take over and tell me I HAD to do “all the things” everyone else was doing.

And it has taken me, what feels like forever to figure that out and face the truth. 

I have an entrepreneur spirit and a desire to help people. 

I have a huge heart that’s been battered and bruised and want to share tools and lessons with others to prevent them from the same bruises.

But, I’m not a Life or Business Coach. And I’ve no real desire to be. Ever. Never did. 

So I have no business trying to be one now.

Unless of course you want advice on how to fuck up your life plan, piss off the people you care about and alienate yourself so you relearn the same lesson a few times over just to be sure you’re memorizing it. Then, I’m your girl. 

What I am is a writer and an artist. 

I dabble in herbs and natural products. I am pro-choice and get heated discussing women’s rights and body autonomy. 

My heart breaks and I often cry when talking to or about our veterans and the effects PTSD has in their lives and I want to contribute to ending the stigma around it. 

And I love to collaborate with others on just about anything I can, be it writing, creating art, photo ops, business. You name, I want in.

Because our real power comes from working together. 

And my real dream, the one I’ve wanted since I was 12 years old, sitting in our big blue chair watching the Gilmore Girls, has been to own a bed and breakfast. Only, I want it to be a wellness retreat. A space for groups to come and disconnect from social media and reconnect with nature. Where they can write, and dance, and do yoga and play with rescue animals and connect with people around the world who want to do the same. 

And I almost fucked that up. I’ve set myself back a fair ways financially, but it’ll still be possible if I get my shit together now.

But, I was angry. So angry. It was easier to blame the coaching world than to admit I misstepped and got distracted.

And I’ve made some gross mistakes while sitting in this anger.

Now I have to forgive myself.  Which in itself if a hefty task that will take some time.

I will still continue to write books, help others write theirs, and collaborate on more, because I love it. But, it will be solely because I love it. 

And that feels so much better.

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