Defining Work

Photo by James Wheeler on

 “It’s your job to become the person you’re meant to be,” Mel Robbins.  Not who you were told to be, not who you were shown to be—who you’re meant to be.  It’s an important distinction.  I’ve trudged through life believing I was flying, not even realizing my wings have bene clipped and I’ve been in a cage the whole time.  We are brought up in a box believing the top is as high as we can go, not recognizing it’s a ceiling.  The sky awaits just outside.

Several key events over the last few months have triggered a chain reaction in my life.  I got pregnant, I had polyps removed during that pregnancy, I ended up losing the baby, we lost a dog, my 9-5 is going through a huge transition, we decided to put our house up for sale again, and we’ve been trying to find a house in a fast moving market.  When it comes to discomfort initiating change, I dove in head first.  It feels like life has been on pause and now it’s in fast motion.  Then again, maybe I’ve always been living at slow speed and this is just normal.  I honestly couldn’t tell you.  Regardless, I’m certain that everything that has happened has opened the flood gates and I can no longer hold back the events that were meant to unfold in my life. 

I’ve always logically known that I needed to unleash the true potential and power of who I am.  I’ve spoken about it, I’ve felt it logically, I’ve even tried (and thought) I was doing it—but I’ve never allowed myself to experience it.  I still clung to the latent control of what I thought I needed to do and how I wanted things to be and I thought it was my responsibility to make it exactly as I believed it should be.  All I needed to do was put down the bullshit I was telling myself and just allow myself to experience things as they came.  Make the decision and learn from it.  Because the decisions didn’t have to be permanent.

I was brought up to believe that a decision was like a scar on my life, where if it didn’t work out, it somehow meant I was a bad person.  I thought we were supposed to get everything exactly right and that any imperfection meant I had to throw the whole thing away.  It wasn’t until very recently that I understood decisions aren’t scars and there really are no wrong ones—just the ones meant for me.  The scars aren’t damage, they are stories.  They are the weavings of my life and it’s a story that is uniquely mine.  I could have spent a time making a copy of someone else’s life (and for a long time I did) but I want to create something that is my own.

Freeing that potential I’ve held in has felt unbelievable.  I’ve felt overwhelmed by how powerful it is and I still feel like I’m being carried along by the waves more often than not.  But I also feel more comfortable when it comes to recognizing what works for me and what doesn’t.  On Sunday I wrote about how uncomfortable I was at a family gathering.  It was incredibly embarrassing that I couldn’t keep it together and ended up leaving in a panic attack, but I am also grateful it happened because THAT was a clear limit for me.  I knew I had to go and I clearly spoke it to my husband without hesitation.  Speaking what I need and not leaving room for misinterpretation is huge for me. 

So I will take the discomfort as a sign that I am stepping in to who I am.  I am doing the work, I am fulfilling the role of the job that I am meant to have—unleashing who I am.  There are a lot more chains than I thought, all self-created.  The weight of other’s opinions, the “shoulds”, the perfectionism, the fear of failure, the indecisiveness, the paralyzing “what-ifs”, the “could-have-beens”.  Why am I carrying them?  I can’t recreate the past and I certainly can’t stop what is coming.  But I can put down all of the bullshit.  I can pick up what is mine and move forward.

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