I’ve been doing so much fighting lately. Fighting for sales, fighting for position, fighting for survival, fighting for sleep. This has been the story of my life—fighting for my right to exist in this world.
This is the opposite of what I’m here to do. I’m here to flow. I’m here to bring peace and comfort. I forget that I don’t have anything to prove. I forget that I don’t have to earn a thing. I was gifted with everything I need and more, before I arrived on this planet. I simply need to trust in that fact. More importantly, I need to surrender to it.
The times when I have trusted myself and followed my intuition, I have been rewarded without measure. And yet, I cling to this old story and pattern as if it feeds me, because it has—until now. Never mind that the way this old story has served me has not been in a positive way. It served me in lack, depression, anger, fear, codependency, suppression, repression, and as a general hinderance to success and abundance.
In this moment, I choose to forgive everyone who harmed me. I choose to forgive those who ignored and neglected me. I choose to forgive those who turned a blind eye to my gifts and refused to acknowledge my worth. And above all else, I forgive myself for all of the above.
This story is literally crippling me more and more each day. Each and every day I hold onto this story, my body is more and more bound, and release seems farther away and more impossible to achieve. As much growth as I’ve accomplished to experience this Brilliant Transformation, there’s still so much more to do. There will always be more work to do.
For the past few months, I’ve been saying “My mind is in a good place, but my body is fighting me.” While I’m happy and feel great about where I am (particularly since moving to California) I’ve been sick, exhausted, and in a lot of pain. My body has been talking to me and I’ve not been channeling the messages. I’ve not been writing, and I’ve not been giving my body the attention it’s demanding. Therefore, my body responds by talking louder and escalating my symptoms.
It’s been at least three days since I’ve had any amount of decent sleep. I also have a very painful pinched nerve, similar to what I experienced before having a cervical fusion in 2004.
At least two people have told me that while I’m saying my mind is ok, it’s clearly not ok, or my body wouldn’t be reacting the way it is. Our bodies represent the thoughts we think. In fact, I just published an article about this.
My hair is falling out by the handful. Saturday, when I visited the “Church of Hair,” GMP Author and Man of Love, Terrell spent an hour talking with me before touching his scissors. I told him about my pinched nerve and the pain I have in my left arm and shoulder.
He reached for my shoulder and touched a few painful areas. Without any direction, he knew exactly where my pain was radiating. My eyes were closed when he touched the top of my forearm in the most painful place. I said, “That’s extremely painful.” He replied, “I thought so.”
He continued, “Pay attention to what you have tattooed in this spot.” I didn’t even realize the pain was in the same spot as one of my 12 tattoos. The tattoo in the spot he was touching is in the shape of the infinity symbol and reads, “Live the life you love, love the life you live.” It’s one of my favorite mantras.
I reminded him I moved to California to live the life of my dreams. I told him I love my life. He said something like, “Not exactly. Not all of it.”
Dammit.
We continued chatting and I wondered what the fuck was in this story that is holding me back. Why is it that every time things are going so well, I get sick? Where’s the discrepancy in my life? What’s incongruent between my talk and my walk? Where am I tripping?
I know the answer. It’s been there all along. I just don’t know how to deal with it, so I’ve been avoiding it (which is never the right answer).
I’m very proud to be a speaker at the Abundance Retreat next spring. I’m giving a talk on Living Your Truth, Writing Your Story, and Empowering Others. I know that writing heals wounds.
However, I also have experienced significant consequences from publicly sharing my story. Namely, I don’t speak to my family anymore.
My family members said sharing my story “ruined their memories.” I don’t understand this. I shared my memories, not theirs. My memories are different from theirs and they aren’t as pretty. While my memories aren’t that ugly either; it’s all relative and I won’t water them down or tell half-truths to make other people more comfortable.
I’m not sharing my story in a way to purposefully bring about shame. I’m sharing my story to bring healing for those who went before me and those who come after me. You simply have to take one look at my son to know the work I’ve done (writing and otherwise) is worthwhile.
We heal our wounds so we don’t pass them on to the next generation. By openly shining light into a dark place, we can also lead the way for others, and help them not feel so alone. This is much bigger than me and bigger than our family.
For me, the wound of being disconnected from my family over this issue of sharing my story, is a dichotomy. I’m uncomfortable speaking as an authority when this ugliness exists in my own life. Particularly when I’ve made no effort to resolve it.
Just last week, I told a whole truth in a vulnerable way in a business situation. I was rewarded immensely. This situation taught me that it’s completely ok to be one hundred percent honest and one hundred percent me; as long as it’s done in a kind, respectful way with integrity.
I can solve problems all over the place and for other people, and yet, I cannot solve them in my own family. More appropriately stated, I have chosen not to solve them in my own family.
As Terrell and I talked, I could feel the pain shift thoughout my body. He retrieved his scissors and ran his fingers through my hair. Initially, he said my hair wasn’t in that bad of shape. He remarked I looked healthier than the last time he saw me (over three months before).
The more cuts he made, the more he realized how damaged my hair really was. He told me our hair holds all of our hiSTORY. Even though I use (and am a distributor for) the best hair products on the market, there was no denying the splits, breaks, and fragments that represent this family story.
Saturday was also a new moon and marks an opportunity to set new intentions. As he made the cuts, he specifically mentioned he was cutting off the split personalities I’ve created for myself. It was as if he was removing the crazy parts of me. How fitting, since “Releasing Crazy” is the title of the book I’m writing.
It’s time to move forward with a new story.
After he cut my hair, we met Susan at a rally on the beach. A nuclear power plant is scheduled to start dumping toxic waste 100 miles from the California coastline. This isn’t something I would normally attend. However, there was a message there for me.
As we arrived, the woman at the microphone was speaking with such passion and conviction, I have goosebumps even now, as I recall her words. She was talking about politicians and lawmakers. Her message, “We cannot condemn them, they are our relatives. We are all relatives. We must use love to transform and transmute.”
I thought to myself, she’s asking us to transform politicians, yet I can’t even resolve this issue within my family. To take that further, I can be one hundred percent honest and myself in a business situation, yet I hold back from the same within my family.
This is exactly why I’m conflicted about speaking with authority at Abundance Ignited. Also, this is exactly why I believe everything happens for a reason and happens for us instead of to us.
I was given a literal wake-up call in time to do some healing with my family before the retreat. It’s time to do some work.
Shortly after, Terrell completed a spoken word poem and with rhythmic chanting, he exclaimed,
“Thank you, thank you, for this wonderful day, spirit. And I want to thank you. I’m so grateful.”
This is the kind of transformative work we’ll be doing at the Abundance Ignited Retreat in Playa Del Rey Mexico. Join us.
Photo/Pixabay
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