Where I’m At: Leaning into Self Discovery

This is going to be vulnerable.

If you’re here for it, thank you. If you’re not, that’s ok too.

I’m honestly not even sure where to start with this…I’ve been debating sharing any of this at all.

I am because it’s my truth. And I truly believe it’s important we all share our truths, no matter if you have a million people listening or one. It matters.

So…. here we go…

You may have seen a little bit on my socials about a recent medication fiasco with an unprofessional AF psychiatrist, who seemed nice but put my health at risk regardless of what I told her.

For the last couple of months, I’ve been caught in a whirlwind of…. I’m not even sure what. Between the withdrawals and severe side effects, feeling rapid fire changes in my mood minute to minute, all of this triggering the worst fibromyalgia flare I’ve experienced in years that hasn’t fully chilled the fuck out… I felt actually crazy. All the while being gaslit that it was “normal discomfort.”

It sucked. A LOT.

But it’s actually not what I want to talk about. It was the start of something though.

While all this was happening, I had so many different thoughts and feelings popping up, but I couldn’t trust them. Was it the meds? Was this just my brain now? What’s really happening?!?

I kept reminding myself that things were not in a “normal” state, and assured myself over and over that once it was over everything would go back to normal. I was ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN I would “go back to normal.” All of the questions and doubts and reconsiderations would disappear, and I would finally get back to being myself — to being the person I thought I wanted to and was supposed to be. I mean…things had been going so well why wouldn’t I want to go back?

I told myself I wasn’t going to make any big decisions, and I would keep going as normally as I could while holding onto my sanity and sense of self by a thread.

Now, I already read a lot, but during this time I was consuming books faster than I could buy them (which is saying a lot, ya girl loves a bookstore.)

Instead of tuning everything out by sinking into Stephen King, I decided to read about softness, rest, and actual self care. I had already been leaning into my “soft girl era,” and with my literal self being so fragile, it just made sense.

I want to clarify something… just real quick.

There’s the whole “Soft Girl Era Aesthetic” that we see online all the time, and then there’s the all caps “SOFT GIRL ERA.” To me, this has always been about true self care, inner work, and how you care for yourself along the way while navigating some really rough shit. Is there pampering involved? fuck yes But there is a HELL of a lot more work. You need both.

While time passed, those pesky little questions and doubts stuck around. I got a new doctor who “fixed” the royal fuck ups of the previous one, and I started to feel more like myself. But …I didn’t feel like myself. Not my “old” self anyways, there was a new version emerging that felt somehow familiar and yet totally foreign. I worried a lot that something was seriously wrong still, and that I had been “broken.”

I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t “snapping back” to my same habits and routines that had been so steadfast. Again, like I said, things had been going sooooo fucking well. Right?

I mean, when I really sat down and thought about it, I sure felt like they had been, but even as I tried to convince myself of that I knew it wasn’t right. Something …a lot of something’s… had been missing, and I had been blatantly ignoring it because all of these outside validations or voices were telling me I was doing everything right. I was “doing the work.” I was being recognized for it and I personally felt what I was doing was exactly what I wanted.

The “wins” were right around the corner. I could fucking feel it.

I talked to my partner about this, and honestly wasn’t stoked on what he had to say. I wanted all of this to be wrong and to go back to my little bubble of over-producing and the certainty that I was on the right path. The thing was, he often knows me better than I know myself. He sees the things I don’t, or choose not to, and he’s never been “afraid” of pointing it out to me.

I’ll get to the point soon, promise. Part of it anyways. If I were to write all of it out, you’d be reading a novel instead of a blog post… and we’re just not there yet. YET.

Before I get into all that, I do want to take a second to acknowledge the fear, and the reasons behind it.

Not only was I worried that this was all just a fucked up side effect of the whole med fiasco, I was terrified that if it wasn’t that, if it wasn’t going to just “get better,” that I would lose something huge. I was scared of losing friends, losing connections I had been making, absolutely terrified of losing progress. The thing that most horrified me though, was the thought, just the idea of losing what felt in the moment like my entire identity.

If I wasn’t pouring myself into building my business, who even was I? If I wasn’t pumping out content multiple times every day, or keeping up with all the chats and calls, or dreaming up new big ideas to go further and push harder and be more efficient, all while guiding the wonderful women I have the privilege of working with, WHO THE FUCK WAS I?!

All of these things I had effectively centered my life around had somehow replaced ’me. Furthermore, I LOVE DOING IT. All of it. And I’ll say right now, that part hasn’t changed. My love for what I do has actually grown deeper, but it looks WILDLY different.

I finally listened. To myself, to my body, to all the books, to my partner…. I shut the fuck up for a second and truly listened.

I wanted to fight it. Dear FUCK I wanted to fight it SO BAD. That bubble felt so.damn.good I wanted it back and I wanted to just pretend like none of this was happening. To go on my merry little way, pushing myself like the energizer bunny, even though all the time I had put in doing these things had yet to give me that “win” I so desperately needed.

Something had to change. A LOT had to change and still is changing.

In order for any of these changes to happen and be in alignment, I had to start really considering what kind of person I want to be, and what kind of life I want to live versus what had been my reality for so long. I’ve had a fuckload of realizations and epiphanies, but there are a couple that really stood out that I feel important to share.

1. I don’t have to constantly be producing to show my worth. That’s capitalism.
2. Staying in the masculine energy of hustle culture no longer serves me (if it ever really did)
3. It’s not only OK for me to lean all the way into the softness of being a woman, but it actually is giving me more’strength and freedom
4. Finally, I don’t owe anyone shit. I don’t have to work myself into an early grave to prove that I am no longer that fucked up girl from my past.
   

This is not anywhere near the first time I’ve had these “revelations,” but it might be the first time I truly listened and heard. Along with these came so many different perspectives about my life, my idea of success, how I want to exist and experience the world, the kind of partner I want to be, how much better I deserve to treat my body, on and on and on.

I swear a new one comes every time I turn around.

It’s honestly incredibly overwhelming, but it’s been such a beautiful experience. To feel like my voice is louder than all the noise around me. To know I don’t have to buy in to the culture I’m surrounded by, and be confident in my decision to choose another path.

I am my own woman. I don’t need anyone’s approval to know I have something of incredible value to offer. I am free to explore every single side of me without fear or judgement or being ostracized. I can create amazing things. I can inspire, and be inspired. I can take my fucking time exploring ME without worrying about any external pressure to “have it all figured out.”

To be very real, I have no fucking idea where any of this is going to take me. The path I thought I was on has taken a sharp left turn onto a road I’ve never seen before. It doesn’t even look like a real fucking road.

One thing I do know? Whatever happens will be exactly what’s meant to. I’m not forcing anything anymore. I’m getting curious and asking questions of myself and the world around me, and I can only hope that it will lead me to some wildly beautiful place made just for me.

Life is fucking hard. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. But HARD doesn’t always have to mean bad.

Just like this has taken me completely by surprise and is an unexpected twist to something I thought I had perfectly mapped out, life may take you in a direction you never could have seen coming. Let it.

If this has taught me anything, it’s the certainty of change, and the importance of listening to my instincts, even when it doesn’t match up with others expectations. We have but one life….and I want to truly live mine.

There’s a good chance I’ll share more about all of this, but for now …. this is where I’m at.