Those First Moments
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The first moments alone I cried.
I needed to process the being alone part. In a gorgeous hotel, that I paid for from my business, allowing me to travel, dine, flow around at my will.
I feel different. For the last two years I've been trying to integrate that difference into how I feel when I'm at home, in my small space with noise levels that only three kids can make.
I stood up at my very first business/change your life conference two years ago, with tears in my eyes, and asked, "How do we integrate who we are in our work with who we are at home, because they feel like two very different people who are always mad at the other one."
What I didn't realize then was that this would become such a huge part of my work. My talks and emails with clients talking about how we often feel like fakes, as though what we talk and write about is off from how we live. Usually those of us with families, children or a whole lot of overwhelm.
Teach what you are learning, passionate about, heart soaring excited for.
I feel the most like myself when I'm writing, sitting and listening to someone, snuggled up with Patrick or reading quietly to one of my kids. I feel at peace and calm on the beach alone or with all the kids running loose. In the car driving, long and far, I connect to me. Skyping with a client or on the other end of Instagram. Cooking anything in a clean kitchen. Alone in my home. In the sun. My feet dirty in the garden. Here, writing. Surrounded by my favorite women.
I feel in the truth of how I need to be.
When I write, I forget about all else, I just let my feelings integrate onto paper. As close as I can figure, this is when I feel safe and calm.
But I get angry. I fight with Patrick, lose my patience 134 times a day with my kids, hold old baggage with family and friends that I'm learning to accept as simply part of being human. I question if marriages really can last, if I'll ever be 130 pounds again or if anyone really likes me. My feelings get hurt and I have a hard time releasing it and moving back into a space where it feels safe to be there.
I get panicked when I think how much more I could be doing and all that I am doing. Those moments of not being present leading us into sabotage. I forget to tag my posts, have no clue about SEO and feel a deep desire to rebrand all of me.
I also look at all I'm doing and think, holy crap, look at all I'm doing. But not laundry.
Telling the truth is fucking hard. I rarely swear when I write but my three old uses the word damnit perfectly.
Walking into new places is one of my highest anxiety points and I'm afraid of how much I miss out on when I don't do because of it. Part of my beautiful work is learning ways to find the softness inside of that truth. Find a way to embrace the fear.
And be so proud of all of this.
This beautiful woman whispered words into my ear that I'll keep in my heart, but remember always as why we take a chance on those first moments. For the connection, the deep gaze into someone's eyes, the way their hug feels, the door we walk through that changes our lives.
Those first moments, the kiss, the dance, the walk, the run, the breath, the song.
Those first moments: can I tell you what is in my heart? Those first moments: of truth. Those first moments: we need this.
