Eureka

Yes, it is literally years since I wrote in my blog.  I can give you loads of excuses as to why, but I’m not going to bother.  I’m just going to draw a line under it, pick myself up, dust myself off and start again.

As human beings, we are on a journey, and it doesn’t seem to matter what age you get to, you  keep learning.  We fill ourselves with knowledge about our jobs and interests, but it’s when we learn about ourselves that the biggest changes occur.

I sell makeup because I love the makeup I sell.  It’s ethical, cruelty free, plant based products and is exactly what I was looking for, for years.  The difficulty for me has been how I sell it.  It’s all about network marketing and, in that, has been terrifying.  You see, I can stand in front of 50,000 strangers and sing to them, but please don’t put me in the middle of that crowd, or any smaller one.  I struggle to function at parties or speak to new people.  I am happiest surrounded by people who know and like me, but put me in a room of new people and I am completely out of my comfort zone.  So much so, that I am prone to panic attacks, heart palpitations and breathing becomes difficult.  Not what you’d expect of an entertainer eh?

Network marketing is about meeting, talking to and befriending anyone and everyone.  It’s about sharing your enthusiasm and love of the product you believe in.  It letting people see who you are and letting them in.  Now that’s scary.

Thankfully, with my company, comes a lot of help and self development and that’s what I have been doing over the last 10 months.  I have been trying to “sort myself out” and get over the crippling fear of reaching out to people, but to little avail.  I didn’t feel I was making progress and I began to question myself.

What is it that’s holding me back?  Why do I have these fears?  What is my mental block that makes me too scared to try?

My eureka moment came yesterday as I was driving in my car.  What came, like a bolt from the blue, was that subconsciously I am not good enough.  Who I am isn’t good enough.  What I do isn’t good enough.  People don’t like me because I’m not good enough.  In short, I am not enough!

Strangely I found this liberating.  Finally I realised that the reason I feel not good enough is because as a child, that is what I was taught.  My family were all shy, undemonstrative, quiet people.  I was the opposite.  I sang, I danced, I laughed, I cried, I talked loudly, with gusto.  They all say I wanted to be the centre of attention and I was outgoing and maybe that was true.  With my siblings and parents telling me to calm down or people wouldn’t like me…  Be quiet people are looking….  People don’t like pushy individuals…..  You’ll never be any good….  Dreams are just dreams, they’re not real…do you always have to be so loud?…  You don’t sing, you shout!…. Stop getting overexcited…. and much worse, every ounce of confidence was stripped away and although I am a singer and I am incredibly happy in my life in general, I have realised, only yesterday, that as a Mum and Grandmother, singer, writer and everything else I am,  my subconscious mantra has always been, “You can’t do this, you are not good enough and you are not enough”

The liberation comes from finally knowing and the freedom will come from retraining my subconscious.  So now, everyday,  every time I remember, I say out loud, for only me and my dogs to hear, “I am enough.  I am good enough.  It’s ok to be me.”

It’s going to be a huge learning curve and I am going to have to mindfully analyse  every thought process until it becomes ingrained, but the fear has taken a huge step back and I am grateful for that.  Not out of the woods, but better.

It reminds me of how careful we have to be when we speak with children.  How damaging we can be to little minds, without realising what we are doing or saying.  Careless or deliberate words can cause years of misery and self doubt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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A little night reading

She sat behind the heavy brown curtain.  It was a big risk to sit there and she was nervous, but the book pulled her in.

It was way past bedtime, a balmy summers evening and far too bright to sleep.  The light crept through the sides, top and bottom of the curtains, beckoning.  The words of the book under her bed whispered so loudly that she almost couldn’t help but slip from her covers and crouch down in the window bay.

She had no idea how long she had been there but the pins and needles in her knees told her it had been some time.  Mr Galiano’s Circus took her to places she could only dream of.  How lucky was the little boy to have become a part of this circus, to live in a caravan and move from place to place.  To see clowns and trapeze artists, to work with elephants and eat as much candy floss as he could ever want.

Her escape into the book was almost total until she heard a door open and then close.  She held her breath as someone climbed the stairs.  She knew if she ran back to bed, they would hear and the game would be up.  She held her breath.  Would the footsteps stop at another bedroom door or would they continue on to the bathroom next door.  Would they come into her room and discover an empty bed.

“Please go past, please don’t come in.” She whispered as a mantra over and over.

She could feel the panic rising from the pit of her stomach.  If it was Dad, it would be ok.  He would quietly but firmly tell her to get back into bed and go to sleep.  She would too, but knew he would be so disappointed in her, that the guilt would be unbearable.  Really though, it was unlikely that Dad would even bother to come into her room.  She didn’t really exist for him anyway.

Oh, but if it was Mum! Any minute all hell could break lose.  There would be screaming and shouting. The whole house would be woken and everyone would know that she had been caught doing something else wrong.  She knew the beating that would follow. The punishment always far outstripped the crime.

Time stood still for an eternity.  There was no air entering or leaving her lungs as she repeated her mantra.  “Please, please, please.”

The footsteps carried their owner nearer and nearer.  Why hadn’t she stayed in bed? Why did she always think she was going to get away with it?  Closer and closer. Then… The bathroom door opened and closed again and she heard the toilet seat go down.  She allowed herself a silent drag of air to fill her lungs and as quietly as she could extracted herself  from the window bay.  She tiptoed raggedly, on pained legs, across the room, book in hand and slipped once more between the sheets.  She stuffed the book underneath the pillow and prayed that she hadn’t been heard.  She lay in the silence listening to her heart pumping.

The fear only subsided when the footsteps descended the stairs.  She was safe for now.  Till the next time.

She lay in her bed on a balmy summers evening.  Fingers of light crept through the curtain and Mr Galiano’s circus called from under her pillow.  She crept from her bed to the bay of the window and pleaded with the darkness to stay away until she read at least one more chapter.