A message for my fellow people pleasers…
I’m a recovering “good girl” people pleaser too.
Let’s not be too hard on ourselves, after all, we all like to be liked.
We all like to make other people happy. But I liked to take it to the extreme.
An innocent comment of “you should really try…” and BOOM, I was shifting off course to try whatever it was.
A casual “I really wish you wouldn’t…” and BAM! I would drop any dream I was carrying.
As I look back, I realize how many opportunities I passed up on, relationships I stayed too long in, jobs I took, all because I was seeking approval.
Things I didn’t post. Books I didn’t write, all because I was afraid of upsetting, afraid to rock the boat, afraid someone would see my power, my words, my selfie and say, “Who does she think she is?”
You see we are taught to be humble. But too many of us misinterpret that as “stay small. Stay quiet. Stay hidden. And don’t for a minute celebrate yourself.”
“Humble” is praised as a noble attribute. “Pride” is admonished as a trait of the shamefully arrogant. But have you ever read the dictionary definitions?
Humble. (adj.)- Having a low estimate of one’s own importance.
Proud. (adj.)- Feeling deep pleasure as a result of one’s own achievements.
Let that sink in for a minute.
I don’t know about you, but I’ll gladly choose being one proud mother f*cker over someone who underestimates my own importance in this world.
CELEBRATE yourself.
Celebrate your beauty and your wishes and your quirks and your weirdness. Celebrate the fact that you’re a mystic at heart, or an artist in your dreams or a lover of all things sacred.
Celebrate the fact that you’re alive, and have something to say, and have deep desires buried in your heart that are valid and deserve to be lived out.
Celebrate your selfie, because it takes COURAGE to get that intimate with yourself and then share it with the world.
My 2022 goal? At least 100 “humble” people a week shaking their heads at me and saying, “Who does she think she is?” And at least 75% of them realizing they are massively inspired by it.
I’ll take the hits. I’ll transmute that shit into magic faster than you can find the next thing to judge or be offended by.
Because that’s what you do when you’ve had enough.
That’s what you do when your soul is on fire.
That’s what you do when it’s freaking TIME.
So tell me how you’re brave.
Tell me about how the muse has touched you and how life has tested you and how your soul has survived it.
Tell me what makes you burn, what makes you whole, what makes you iconic.
I read a quote that said, “I did not crawl through the shards of my own brokenness to live a mediocre life. I’ve prepared for magic.”
Tell me how you’re magic.
Tell me how you’re winning.
Tell me who you are and what you’ve made and why you’re a goddamn GIANT! 
But women’s magazines, in particular, have done self-care a disservice. Google articles on self-care and you’ll find advice like: