I recently collapsed on to my therapist’s couch and began the session with, “I already know what you’re going to say once I unload what I’m about to say, so I don’t think I need to see you anymore...”
We had a good chuckle.
I proceeded to spew verbal diarrhea: “So, I’m getting a lot of positive feedback about the blog which is great, but it takes up SO much time. I have a decent number of clients already but I want MORE. Do you know that life coaching is the second highest saturated industry in the US? Not. Encouraging. And I really wanna spend more time in NYC and Charlotte with friends and family.... PS Can I even call myself an actress anymore? I’ve barely auditioned in the last two months--I miss it. PPS I have completely put dating on the back burner. I’m either by myself or around women all the time. When I audition, I’m alone. When I coach, I’m alone. When I write, I’m alone. When I drive, I’m alone. And I kind of regret committing to an annual barre studio membership where everyone is--you guessed it, a woman.”
Unclaired mind much?
To my credit, my therapist didn’t need to ask me to take a breath. I paused and took some voluntary conscious breaths after the rant, and the inevitable tears arose. In fact, my eyes are watering as I type right now…
I cry over the relief that I finally know not to identify with this messy spiral as my truth, knowing that simply unloading was exactly what I needed. I cry for the little girl inside who still needs validation, no matter how much my 35-year-old self says, “I’m proud of you. Your efforts are more than enough.” And I cry over finally accepting that it’s so OK to not be OK, even if I'm a life coach--we are all works in progress.
But in the profound, resounding words of Rhianna, it does take “work, work, work, work, work,work” which is really, really, hard, hard, hard, hard, hard, hard, but once you get the knack, knack, knack, knack, knack, knack, it’s really, really great, great, great, great, great, great because the recovery from whatever horseshite story you’re creating is so much quicker! (thinking about becoming a lyricist--stay tuned)
This past week, my body said “No, no, no, no, no, no” (OK I’ll stop) to all of my “to-do’s.” I still fulfilled obligations like coachings and physical therapy, but things like starting my blog on a Thursday so that it'll hopefully evolve into something decent by Monday, didn’t happen til Saturday. My four-five day a week exercise regimen went right out the window and my seven-hour sleep schedule extended to ten hours, complemented by daily afternoon naps.
My ego screamed, “You’re lazy! You don’t have time to sleep! You don’t even have a blog topic yet! Wait—not only are you not exercising but you’re gonna eat THAT?”
I totally heard the bitch but I didn’t listen to her--I listened to me. "Me" said, “You haven’t been to a movie in forever--go. Twice. Treat yourself to sushi every night because it's your favorite. Make flirty shy eye contact THRICE with the dreamboat also dining solo, but don’t stand up til after he leaves--you're legit wearing homeless person sweatpants. Try yin yoga that will culminate in a much needed ugly girl cry during savasana. Binge watch that show Catastrophe everyone’s been telling you about. Of course you feel like a lump on a log--you’ve been working your arse off non-stop and your adrenaline can only take you so far.”
I gave myself permission to slow the F down and as a result, this was my easiest, breeziest, most therapeutic post (for me!) so far, and all I can keep singing to my ego is Bitch Better Have My Money!It feels real, real, real, real,real good:)
Happy Claire Your Mind Monday:)
Can you recall a time when you haven’t given yourself enough credit for all that you do? What kind of self-care acts do you implement when your mind starts to spiral? What does YOUR "Me" say? Comment below and remember that whatever you do, please Don’t Stop the Music. (if you’ve been following me for a while, you should know I’ll never stop beating a dead horse and that I'm obsessed with the Top 40-keeps me giddy, nerdy and young:)