35
Older, wiser... finer
I celebrated my 35th birthday on the 26th.
And this birthday, I woke up feeling different. I woke up feeling older. The first thing I did before opening my eyes really was thank God, because wow… what a blessing! I know or knew people who didn’t get to see 35.
I’m healthy, happy, and surrounded by love.
Interestingly enough, the week leading up to my birthday, I was feeling shame and guilt. I felt like I wasn’t deserving of celebration because I hadn’t “accomplished” anything. I dismissed the fact that I kept my relationship and three little humans alive. I got my real estate license, had my first closing months after getting said license, grew a garden, made a family heirloom cookbook, started taking Spanish, picked up my piano hobby, and learned/mastered that piano lick at the beginning of Roses - Outkast, stayed consistent at the gym, maintained friendships, and listened to my intuition more.
So why was I feeling guilt and shame, or unaccomplished? I didn’t feel like I overcame any fears. I hadn’t put myself in high-pressure situations and came out of them stronger.
The past 2 years, I gave birth, and that’s life and death. I ended the year with physical proof of overcoming a difficult, stressful situation.
This year, while I accomplished, I didn’t feel like I overcame.
Deep down, I know this is because what scares me the most, more than childbirth, is putting myself out there, specifically selling myself, services, or goods.
I created a cookbook for my family and made a template to sell… didn’t promote it.
I wrote a children's book and created merch for it 5 years ago, and act as if it doesn’t exist!
I want a community of former athletes to come together, created a brand, merchandise, and a platform… didn’t promote it.
I know I can influence on social media, people even assume I am one… don’t pitch myself.
Have services set up for mindset coaching in groups that I know parents and athletes would love… haven’t told people about it at large.
It’s as if I’m refusing to bet on myself… or refusing to allow people to potentially reject me, in turn blocking them from supporting me. Even worse withholding the gifts I’ve been given that could help someone TREMENDOUSLY.
Something about 35, though. I feel the release of the fear I had and the fucks I was giving.
I’m feeling free
A little more like me and who I’m called to be.
Peace and Much Love,
Morgan