This year has been freaking crazy, to say the least. Sometimes I feel like I haven’t even had a second to breathe. My most important priority this past year? Me.
I want to say it was unashamed. But that would be a lie. There were times I had Mommy guilt when I worked on my business instead of hanging with my kids. There were times I argued with my husband because I spend so much time working on my business.
But this coaching gig, coaching people, and getting coached, has taught me more about myself than any other endeavor, ever.
I’ve put in the work; things haven’t worked, I’ve cried, I’ve learned, I’ve almost quit, I’ve kept going, almost quit again, and kept going. Doing something I’ve never done before, I know nothing about, and wanting so badly has forced me to look at me square in the face on many occasions. The no bullshit, you have only yourself to answer to, kind of face to face interactions.
I like me now more than than I ever have before — all of me. The extra 30lbs me. The stubborn me, the perfectionist and judgmental me. The hardheaded, proud to a fault, grudge-holding, confrontational AF, do not DARE f*ck with my kids or my family, mama honey badger me. The idealistic, old school, unrealistic expectations me. I love all those versions of me (even if they sometimes get me in trouble).
I also love the big-hearted, insanely loyal, hard-working, courageous, determined, intelligent, tenacious, word-smithing, proud mama, fiercely feminine, badass wife, and I will coach the shit out of you, me.
The self-confidence that comes with accepting and loving me for me has allowed me to work harder, take more risks, and be more courageous than I ever have before in my life, which is awesome in and of itself. But the compound effect of doing this work, working on me, has allowed me the freedom of giving fewer f*cks.
Loving me and knowing me has allowed me to stop worrying about what other people love or don’t love about me. It’s seriously crazy. I have always had a polarizing personality. People love me or hate me. There is no in-between. I’ve known this for a long time. I used to acknowledge it with a sort of “fuck you” attitude. And now it’s more of a “that’s fine, sometimes I don’t like me either,” vibe.
Now I worry about me instead of everyone else. What I mean is, I used to get so wrapped up in worrying about what the Anti-Billiejos were thinking about me. I’d try to morph and twist and turn myself into what I thought I should be. It felt awful. And it was a pointless endeavor because I can’t control what other people think. So now I worry about me. How I’m feeling, how I want to feel, how I want to show up in the world, and how to make that happen. I take responsibility for my emotions and my actions, REGARDLESS of how other people behave. Am I perfect at this? Hell No. Have I gotten better? Much. And it’s mother fucking liberating.
You can’t control other people, people. You think you can, but you can’t. So stop trying because it will only make you feel crazy when they don’t comply, and they’re not going to. Can you influence people? Yes. Are you more likely to get more bees with honey? Yes. But it doesn’t mean anything is wrong with you when the bees don’t show up. So if you’re not the kind of bee that digs my honey? Zero f*cks.
I’ve owned my human, flawed parts. The compound effect? I’m more accepting and patient with other people when they show their human, flawed parts. We really cannot recognize in others what we don’t see within ourselves. That means the goods stuff and the bad stuff.
Being kinder, more loving, and accepting of my flaws has 100% resulted in me being more compassionate, more loving, and accepting of others. Being less critical, judgmental, and rigid toward myself has 100% allowed me to be less critical, judgmental, and inflexible with others. But if you’re incapable or unwilling to do the same for me, I’m moving on. No resentment, no bitterness, just zero f*cks.
And I’m not doing this work because I’m some sort of enlightened, holier than though, selfless, Mother Theresa type. I’m doing it because it freaking FEELS BETTER. It feels good to like the person that I am. It feels good to be more patient with my kids and husband. It feels good to open myself up to people I would have previously shut out. It feels good to be more compassionate and understanding to others. It feels good to stop worrying so much about what everyone else MIGHT be thinking. It feels good to give fewer f*cks. Merry Christmas Me, you’re welcome.