And take the biggest leap of your life.
A few years ago around this time I left a really good job. I had a company car, unlimited gas, a per diem and a comfortable salary. I traveled with the company so housing was taken care of. Free flights on weekends. Expensed meals and happy hours. What some would consider a pretty sweet life.
I nailed a series of intense interviews and beat out a long line of relentless women to land this position. I bought a pair of sleek black leather Nine West pumps and painted my nails a fresh, fiery red before every meeting. I wore a perfectly tailored blazer that completed my power suit. When I introduced myself I would shake your hand so confidently and look you in the eye so deeply that you would know what I was all about right then and there. I was in total boss mode.
I dropped a few grand on my work wardrobe as soon as I started the job. I got spray tans and straightened my hair. I never wore flip flops and I most certainly never wore yoga pants. I test drove a brand new luxury car and had all the paperwork ready to buy it.
After years of trying to claw my way up the professional ladder I thought this was the answer. A traveling gig that paid all my expenses and “brought my career to the next level.” I thought that since I was done living the deadbeat twenty something lifestyle that this was the logical next step. I called everyone I knew and told them the great news.
On my first day of work I knew I had made a horrible mistake. My trainer wore fake eyelashes so long they stuck out of her glasses. All the girls strutted around in bright colored, too-high-to-be-safe plastic heels that made their feet look like chewed pieces of meat and the question of the day was always “So where did you go out last night?” It was like a yucky, power hungry, young professional sorority. I wanted to eat everyone’s faces off. I wanted to bash my head into the desk every single day. I hated life.
Fast forward to today. I’ve got very little in the bank. My car almost got repo’d last month and my phone has gotten turned off a few times. I maxed out 3 credit cards and took out a pay day loan with around 1000% interest. I’ve been eating just pasta for more than 3 weeks straight and I can’t afford my $10 gym membership. I ran out of toilet paper today and started crying.
I took a major risk. I’m not comfortable. I’m scared. But for the first time ever, I’m happy.
I am utterly, completely, totally, entirely, incredibly, genuinely, magically, blissfully in love with my life. This morning I woke up and the first thing I did was smile. I’m excited to get out of bed every single day. I’m working on projects that challenge me. I’m writing and planning and designing. Creativity is flowing. I’m learning so much. I am inspired every day. I’m inspiring other people. I’m connecting. I’m kicking ass and getting stuff done. I walk around with tingles, shivers, goose bumps because everything feels right for the first time ever.
It took me almost a decade to call out my own bullshit. Years of suffering and profound dissatisfaction because I didn’t think the life I wanted was possible. I thought unhappiness and settling for less than you deserve was a standard of living.
This is where I draw the line. I choose to love what I do and be wildly fucking successful, not one or the other. I choose to be creative and make things constantly and get paid for my ideas and inspire people every day. I choose to never lose sight of what’s important to me, or give up my freedom and happiness ever again.
My truth has been inside me from the beginning. I just haven’t had the guts or the grit or the confidence to pursue my dreams.
This is my commitment to work towards the life I want with every ounce of blood, sweat and tears in my being. I’m all in, baby.
All. Fucking. In.