Our Deepest Fear

“It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us…”

I know sometimes I’m too much. I try too hard. I talk too much and too loud. I’m tired of shrinking. I’m tired of making myself small so that I don’t stand out. I’m tired of keeping quiet.

There once was a girl who stood up for what she believed in. To the point where some people didn’t like her. This girl believed she could do whatever she wanted. That nothing could stand in her way. But then, she made a mistake and she got afraid. Afraid to try. Afraid to start again. She felt like she needed to fit in; just do what she was supposed to. It was safe. It was easier than fighting the current. She was afraid that no one would accept who she really was. And so she hid. She pushed all of her art, all of herself down, DOWN…deep within her so that it wouldn’t scare anyone off. She desperately tried to please everyone until the girl inside had shrunk so small it was hard to see her.

The light dimmed.

I’ve been afraid to let my light shine. Afraid that it will dim the lights of others. It is so much easier just to keep the light hidden. To be less of who I am so that no one will be uncomfortable around me. I won’t “chase” anyone off if I’m just like everyone else. No one likes to be left out. So I chose to just fit in.

And the light dimmed.

There have been times where that little girl stood up. Where I let my light shine. It did make people uncomfortable. It got me in trouble. It made me stand out and not everyone liked me. It hurt. It hurt that I was misunderstood. I told myself – not again – I’m not doing this again – I’m not shining anymore, I’ll just keep it cool and everyone will be happy with me. Everyone will like me. And so I smile and nod.

And the light dimmed.

Well, you know what? I’m not getting any younger. Some shit has happened to me and I’ve made a lot of mistakes. And still some people don’t get me. I’m starting to realize that’s OK. I see my children being who they are. Unafraid. Not content with blending in. In them, I see that little girl I used to be. I don’t want my children to become who I became. I want to see their light shoot across the Universe, never fading.

They are so special. It’s about time I realized how special I am too. I’m not perfect. My light is sometimes some crazy colors and even a little shaky; even a little dim some days. I will be loud. I will be too much because that’s who I am. I’m shining my light the way I need to shine.

I’m going to help thousands of women stand up and be heard. I’m going to help them find their light and shine for all of us to see. Women will change corporations & companies. Women will create businesses around connection & love. Women will change communities & countries. Women will change the world with their big hearts, big dreams and big souls. I know this to be true. I see it in every woman I know. I see it in the stranger as she approaches me on the street. It’s there in her eyes. I’m going to help her see it too.

And the light will NOT be dimmed. Not anymore.

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Our Deepest Fear – Marianne Williamson.


The Opposite of Courage

This weekend was our first big event, a concession at a baseball tournament – a last minute one that I had high hopes for. We rushed around getting things ready – we only had 4 days to “get ‘er done”.

Saturday came and the wind blew and the ball players drank; but, they didn’t eat like I’d hoped. They didn’t bring their kids who would bug them for money for the concession. They barely even stopped by. I stood there trying to smile in the cold, trying to believe that I’d done the right thing. Trying not to worry about the money we’d invested in putting this together. Trying not to worry about letting my best friend down.

I am normally so courageous and upbeat about this new business adventure that I’m on with my best friend. This weekend, it was hard.

Saturday night, I was tired. My husband and I were alone, no kids. Yet, I didn’t have the strength to enjoy just being with him.

It was more than the tiredness from being on my feet all day or from being so fricking freezing! It was more than that.

I’d lost my courage. I lay there in my husbands arms, sobbing. Worried. Disappointed. Wasted. I had no courage at all. I cried and lamented that it wasn’t going Perfectly.

He held me and wiped my tears, over and over with gentle kisses. He spoke tenderly and encouraged me and listened and listened. I begged his forgiveness for trying this and he scolded and told me that it wasn’t wrong to follow my heart and do what I love.

He told me over and over that I didn’t have to worry. He told me he admired my courage – that courage that I felt I’d lost. He admired that I was taking the chance. That I’d ignored the nay-sayers. That I’d worked so hard. He admired the courage that kept me going to work everyday, even when I’d rather be somewhere else. The courage that makes me the great mom that I am.

I felt so less than all of those things that he admires about me. I was the opposite of courageous. All I could see was what I’m not. And man, I did not like that person at all. I thought I was past all of that.

Yet, there he was, still there, still encouraging, still admiring. He’s seen me in those darkest hours, he’s seen the opposite of Courage as the tears fall.

Yet, even with all that right in front of him, he does not see it. He sees only the woman that I want to be. The courageous, strong, beautiful woman. He sees her, even when I cannot.

And that, gives me courage again.