Life has been a bit of a wild ride lately! At one point today I sat back and realized I’ve spent the last few weeks doing exactly what I love to do – writing my book, creating new programs, ironing out details for upcoming retreats, and seeing a handful of clients. I have been working basically non-stop for weeks, but none of it feels like work!
I have been ridiculously happy.
When I’m not utterly terrified.
My life is fast evolving into the life I have long dreamed of living. Writing and sharing books. Connecting with amazing people. Creating amazing new programs to support others from the comfort of my pjs in my cozy home office. Holding retreats and bringing people together. Traveling and experiencing new places.
Living my life my way, on my own terms and schedule.
It was mildly shocking and exhilarating to realize I’m living that right here and now. It isn’t the life I dream of anymore. It’s my life now.
And nothing I’m doing has any kind of guarantee of success involved.
I can’t guarantee I’ll have money coming in this week.
I can’t guarantee that my book will sell to more than the handful of people who have already pre-ordered.
I can’t guarantee that anyone will show up to my retreats.
I can’t guarantee that anyone will purchase my new programs.
I can’t guarantee anyone will read any of my blog posts or FB posts or anything I write.
I can’t guarantee anything. I could fail at everything.
And that can be utterly terrifying.
I have, and am, gambling everything to live life my way and to be absolutely true to myself. It hasn’t been easy. It’s still not easy. I’ve had to ask my parents for more help and assistance over the last couple years than I am comfortable admitting and I have felt a lot of sticky guilt over that. I’ve gone into debt to make this life happen. I’m going into more debt to make this book happen. I’ve given up a lot of life’s comforts and luxuries. I’ve stayed home countless times rather than get together with friends because I’ve been ashamed of my lack of money.
I’ve doubted. I’ve cried buckets of ugly, messy tears. I’ve second-guessed. I have triple-guessed. I’ve woken up in the middle of the night in a panic attack too many times to count. I’ve stayed up all night wondering how I would pay the bills. I’ve chewed the inside of my cheeks raw and bloody from anxiety.
I still do some of those things on occasion. And I wouldn’t trade a single second of the last few years.
Because in the last few weeks I have been ridiculously happy.
Smiling for no reason. Bursting out in laughter for no reason. Freaking the cat out when I randomly pick her up to dance around the room. Having opportunities pop up out of nowhere. Working hard and sleeping like a rock. Waking up excited to do it all again.
No more dreading the day. No more feeling out of integrity with myself. No more constant aching misery and depression. No more doing work that makes me feel like I’m betraying myself.
I feel completely and utterly at home in myself. I get to be absolutely true to myself and do only what works for me. I get to live that life I’ve dreamt of living. Doing work that fills me with joy and fulfillment and purpose.
My life is full of uncertainty and unpredictability and occasional terror. I, however, am completely solid and steady within myself. Perhaps for the first time ever.
There is nothing like coming home to yourself.
How about you?
What are you willing to risk to be fully you in a life you adore?
What dreams have you tucked away for “someday?”