My brain is very busy right now. It’s going a million miles a minute. I’m exhausted but adrenaline is running high and I also feel a little like crying…
Did I give methamphetamine a go?
Did I drink a pot of coffee?
I went to Ignite.
And many of your eyes just glazed over. All weekend I’ve posted selfies and random pics of balloons with inspirational sayings on them and hash tagged them all ‘ignite’ and sounded slightly manic. And you’re over it. I get it. If I were in your shoes I might be feeling exactly the same way and making sarcastic comments to my friends about it. And laughing really hard at my own jokes.
It’s what I do.
The event itself was amazing. The people were generally pretty freaking awesome. I am inspired and motivated and ready to go all in.
Do you care yet?
Muttering to your significant other than I’m all hyped up about another pyramid scheme and desperately hoping I don’t message you or post one more goddamn sweaty selfie?!
Sorry. I”m not going to shut up.
I cried this weekend. While I drank wine and sat cross legged on the floor in a gorgeous ball room. Did I expect that? Nope. First of all, there were chairs but for some reason unbeknownst to me, I was sitting in what my kids call “criss cross apple sauce” on the floor. Secondly, a kindly gentleman came around with a tray full of wine. It was 2 in the afternoon. Yes, please. Thirdly, I am not some mindless follower who falls for the first new fad that comes along. I’m a cynic. I’m intelligent. You cannot fool me into positivity. Positivity is for the weak minded!
Then Erin Carrasco (Google her if you care. You really should though, she’s kind of amaze balls) started talking. She made me (and like 90 other people also all sitting on the floor) close my eyes and I did so and so did they. She got us wine. And I was wearing yoga pants. Seriously, I’ll do almost anything in those circumstances…
And then she wanted me to work on my “Why”. Why do I do Beachbody? Why was I there? WHY.
So I started out with what I soon learned is my “pageant why”. I want to look hot. I want to be fit. I want to help people. I want some financial freedom. Done. That’s about as honest as it gets, right?
A short while later I had written out something along the lines of this:
‘I have lived for a long time under the shadow of failure: Teen Mom. Divorced. Fired. Financial Trouble. I am not a failure. I am worthy of success and need to prove it to myself and stop worrying about proving it to everyone else.”
That’s it. And I was bawling. Not sobbing – only due to some real self control but let me tell you what – I had no idea until I sat criss cross apple sauce on the floor of a ball room at the Fort Garry Hotel, that I had trained myself to think I was a failure.
If you know me I come across as fairly confident. I am assertive – you could even say aggressive…I’m a bitch. I am funny. I use humour as a defence mechanism and also because it’s wrong to deprive any of you of my astounding wit…
I have worked at proving myself to others for 22 years now. 16 and pregnant. To quote a real gem I know, that’s “not ideal.”
What is ideal is the amazing son I gave birth to. He’s 21 now and he lives in Toronto and moved there when he was 18 to go to school and knew only one other person. He dealt with what we soon learned was a sketchy roommate and the hard realities of moving away from home. Like really away. I couldn’t run over to help him with anything. He is a 2 hour flight away and we have three other kids at home and full time jobs and the goddamned lear jet kept breaking down.
I am so f#cking proud of him.
I never let myself be proud of me. I have pride about stupid things. Like how clean my house is or is not. Like how much money I make or don’t. What people think of me.
Instead it’s time I start caring about what I think of me. I have created this image of myself for myself that says I’m not enough. I’m not worthy. I’ve Wayne’s Worlded myself into unworthiness. If you don’t get that reference Google that too. Everybody look some shit up already. It’s not hard. Mike Myers. Dana Carvey. Educate yourself.
It literally just dawned on me that my Why has evolved into a Why Not? And this doesn’t have to be just for Beachbody. Whatever it is in your life that you want but don’t have and think you can’t have – YOU CAN. You have ‘reasons’ aka excuses as to why you can’t but I want you to think long and hard about why you shouldn’t have that. If you need to, throw on a pair of comfy pants, sit on the floor, and have a little vino. Close your eyes. Whatever it takes but just stop selling your self short. There are no wild dreams. There are just dreams and excuses. Get rid of the latter and it can be yours, whatever it may be.
After all, why not?