a shift in perspective

December 4 | weekly warm-up

Write a seven-sentence introduction of yourself to share with the group during our first interactive session. Each sentence should include facts or insights about you, except for one. Make one of the sentences fiction. You can choose to make the fiction one obvious or not, it’s up to you. Approach it however you like as long as one of the sentences is not true. In our interactive session on Saturday, you’ll read your piece to the group and we’ll have the chance to guess which sentence is untrue! This will be a fun way to meet each other, and to start a discussion around the overlap of between autobiography and fiction. 

Hi friends,

On a chilly day in 2018, I walked out of the hospital and stopped on the sidewalk to take a deep breath. I hadn’t zipped up my coat or wrapped my scarf around my neck before stepping out into the winter air, so eager I was to get out of that building and on with my day. I squinted at the sun as a cold breeze slid up my sweater and around my neck, feeling like life itself awakening me, inviting me back. Relief coursed through my body as I inhaled and exhaled with more hope than I’d been able to muster in months.

Walking into the hospital, I was prayed up and confident. But after being called back into the mammogram room three times for more photos, my courage wavered. After watching several women come in after me and leave before me without complications, I sat waiting for an ultrasound and possibly more tests, wondering what they saw and how to feel.

I wondered if I’d made myself sick with all my dreading and worrying. When you know that your thoughts create your life, and you also know that you’re thinking about awful things most of the time, you worry about what you’re attracting.

Pondering all the possible outcomes, I braced up. A week before, after discovering a sore, dense area in my right breast, I set up an appointment with my primary care doctor. She examined me then scheduled a mammogram for a week out. I counted down the days with affirmations: I am brave. I am healthy. I am strong. But I was also shaken.

I tried to put the whole thing out of my mind and focus on each moment, each task in front of me. Each step, each conversation, each meal, each kiss, each hug, every small act, every tiny beautiful thing felt big and generous and I was thankful to be alive. For that week, I lived like each day was sacred, too sacred to spend in the labyrinth of anxiety and depression I’d been lost in for the last few years.

…

It’s hard to say, but I think I started losing hope in 2016. I’d been self-employed for three years, and I was finally hitting my stride. That January, my word for the year was abundance. I hosted more writing workshops than any other that year. I was invited to speak at more conferences and groups than ever before. I had one-on-one coaching and ghostwriting clients keeping me busy. My kids were growing up, and I was able to be at home with them while doing work I loved. But I was building my dream life on a shaky foundation. In my haste, I was more concerned about the finished product than the framework.

My ambition was loud and urgent and I was eager to prove myself, so I didn’t make time for healthy habits and reinforcement. I just charged ahead, avoiding any structure that threatened to slow me down. I refused to repair or even look at the cracks in my foundation; all I wanted to do was build for the sake of building. That year was abundant indeed, full of experiences, opportunities and warning signs that I ignored. Despite my accomplishments in 2016, I was still struggling to make ends meet and keep my sanity. By 2017, I was burning out. While I’ve always been a highly sensitive person, my creative career sent my emotions into overdrive. In an email to friends I wrote, “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.” I never wanted to be an entrepreneur or a boss. I wanted a simple life. But I had this calling that led me to make decisions and dare in ways I never imagined I could.

Along the way, I’ve struggled with managing my emotions: overcoming self-doubt and self-sabotage, balancing motherhood with self-employment, managing business and personal finances, and learning how to pace myself and be myself and not be influenced by what other people are doing. All the while, holding my love for the work in my hands, making sure I don’t drop it, no matter what is thrown at me.

In September of 2017, my Dad died. When he passed, in a way, I was reborn. My biggest rock bottom moment led to an awakening: I’m going to die one day, too. Am I living well? Am I at peace? Seeing him go disrupted my dark night of the soul. I committed myself to living a life that he would be proud of. In 2018, I was starting over. Cutting back on work; putting my health first. In the past, my ambition was often at odds with my wellness and that needed to change, starting with my habits. I set the groundwork with spiritual reading, journaling, talk therapy, meditation, exercise, and a cleaner diet. I was on a roll. And then I found the lump in my breast.

When I walked out of the hospital that day with a clean bill of health, I knew my work here wasn’t done. I wanted to get back to the hope and joy that my writing journey once gave me. I wanted to live a full, meaningful, soulful life without sacrificing my well-being. Since then, my creative callings have had new meaning. It was no longer about what I could prove, but who I could be, and who I could help. Not just in a conceptual or performative way, but in a deeply-lived and authentic way.

I’m sharing all of this to now ask you to reflect on your own story, and how you came to the point where you value your personal story work the way you do. What experiences have disrupted your life and awakened you? What have you had to reframe? Feel free to share any comments, thoughts or questions in the comments below.