But this little spot has been so good to me. And I unexpectedly started tearing up thinking about how much I might actually miss it.
Over the last year, I’ve met dozens of new people I now call friends. I’ve grown my business a ton,
grinding out tons of content on my little 5th floor balcony. I’ve started salsa lessons, bought a standup paddle board, enrolled in a Strong(wo)man 101 class and got a puppy that drives me nuts but I can’t imagine my life without now.
And I’ve also had a ton of visitors stay with me from all over the country, including friends from NC, both pairs of parents at times, and my siblings, etc.
In fact, my brother Danny has been a
frequent visitor, and if you follow me at all on social media, you know that Dan and I are really tight. He was actually my first visitor last summer, sleeping on a blow-up mattress and putting together my balcony furniture on a particularly hungover Sunday ;)
Which brings me to the point of this email …
Dan and I spent a lot of time chillin’ on my balcony, talking about life, relationships, career and business, not to mention plenty of LOLs—most
people can’t stand being around us because no one else thinks the jokes are funny.
But one thing that we kept saying sitting out there—and it’s now somewhat of a mantra, an affirmation of sorts—is:
“This is the best life.”
I admit it, I didn’t feel 100% convicted of those words at the time that I started saying them.
BUT, sitting out watching the sunset with a glass of chilled
white with one of my best friends, it was hard not to say them. It was hard not to feel grateful. It was hard not to feel that eventually things would be okay, despite the uncertainty and the scariness of this new space. It was hard not to feel powerful and like the possibilities are endless.
Though it can feel like lip service, the simple affirmation, “I have a great life,” is not benign.
It matters. And it
mattered tremendously my first few months in my new spot. The the more I affirmed that I did in fact have a great life, the more evidence I began to see of that truth.
Perception is reality, and our words become our actions, and our actions become our outcomes.
And the outcomes started showing up!
My friends’ endless support, my business growth, my freedom to be creative and write more openly and
honestly, and most importantly, my own level of self-trust sky-rocketed. In fact, so much so that last January I ran a whole training course on the concept of being “antifragile” – the ability to make yourself so vulnerable (by engaging with your biggest fears and moving toward the scary stuff) that you come to find you can handle anything, becoming the strongest version of yourself.
Because here’s the bottom line: having “a great life” is
subjective.
For some, a “great life” is quality time spent with their kiddos or grandkids. For others, it’s a romantic dinner with their partner. For others, it’s showing up to work every day doing something they love and climbing the corporate ladder. And for others, being the solid go-to confidante for their friends and family, holding down the fort.
Regardless of how things look from the outside, everyone has a right to their own perception and experience.
There is no standard for a “great life,” which means that we get to choose how we see things.
And confession: I don’t always choose positive, ha!
Sometimes I play the victim card and covet things other people have, or I wish things were different, or I mourn things that could have been. I get sad. I get antsy. I get scared. I get cranky.
And while I do think it’s important to allow space for that, at
some point, there’s still a choice that remains, and that is:
Do you go through life kicking and screaming and constantly wishing your reality was different? OR, do you OWN your choices, even when the outcomes are painful, scary, frustrating or uncertain? And then take some action, even in the face of all of that?
To me, the latter choice is where you own your power. THAT is where you truly level
up.
I’ve grown so much over this last year, and though so much of it has been scary and disorienting, I have loved every second of the journey. I do have a good life. The best one (for me). I can say that with 100% conviction now.
Our struggles serve us. There is utility in uncertainty. Our messes are our messages.
And we are stronger for all of it.
Here’s one last pic with my
little girl from the balcony ;)
