I was going to write you a pretty piece about my tattoo.
I was sitting on 960 words but I wasn’t feeling it.
It was a cop-out blog.
It was an easy blog
And it says nothing about the storm inside of me.
The one I wanted to hide from you today.
Because it feels vulnerable.
Because it still feels as raw as the skin on my shoulder.
Because right now I’m still trying desperately to shelter those around me from the fury raging in me.
Ssometimes I just get so tired of the fight.
Maybe you can relate.
That doesn’t really matter.
What matters is that this is my truth.
The truth is that I also get tired of getting up each day whilst others are still in the land of dreams. I also get tired of putting on my armour, wondering who will be the meanest sonofabitch to smash me in the face today.
A faceless hater online?
The voice of ego in my head?
The echo of voices past?
The force of Resistance constantly taking the art which demands creation and putting it on a top of a mountain for me to climb?
I just get so tired.
I get tired of doing the bloody mindset work every day.
I get tired of my relentless determination to scrape out the barrel of bullshit left by the fear, pain and shame of others who weren’t prepared to do the work.
So they offloaded on me.
For as long as I can remember.
Because I was different.
I din’t fit into their box of what a good girl looks like. Acts like. Speaks like.
They lashed out.
They inflicted more pain than they will ever be willing to own up to. Leaving monstrous ugly red scars in my heart.
“You’ll never amount to anything”
“You’re nobody special”
“Nobody will ever respect your opinion”
“You’re nothing but a piece of ass that men want to screw”
Oh yes, I’ve picked some real cherries for my life lessons.
And most days I’m so grateful for the lessons and the learning.
But sometimes in a moment of weakness, I’m just done with hurting.
Time to choose.
Always more choices.
I can give in to the exhaustion.
I can give in to the temptation to just walk away from my purpose and go work for some big corporation where I can be a faceless cog in a big machine churning out more of the same.
I can make it ‘easy’ on myself.
I can go back to living a ‘normal’ life.
I can do that.
And I consider it because you know what, the alternative, the path of my purpose is traitorous and frustrating and never-ending. I hurt. I cry. I bleed. I scream when nobody is listening. And I do it more often that you will ever know.
For my path is one of constant growth and doing the work that matters.
Every single day.
I’ve done it before and walked away from it all. I’ve turned my back on my purpose and my soul clients and gone to do the ‘easy’ life.
It killed me.
Simple as that.
So I sit down and I do more of the work.
I sit down with my journal and my pen and I write “Dear God, give me the courage to see that which I’ve not been able to see before. Give me strength Lord for I of and in myself do not have what it takes to take one more fucking step.”
And it flows.
I reconnect with the singular meaning of my life.
To be in service to those that I agreed to lead in this lifetime.
To show the way from a path so smothered in the dark temptation of fitting in, of belonging in the safe folds of the grey masses to walking away from it all and finding your own path.
Your own truth.
Your own way.
To take the red pill knowing that once you do you can never un-see the truth.
It’s not an easy choice my friend.
It’s not an easy path.
It’s so long.
It’s so hard.
I know – for I never came here to stand on the mountain top and shout directions out to you.
I’m walking with you.
Every goddamned day.
And I will keep walking with you. For you.
I’ll keep taking the blows. I’ll keep sucking in the sweet taste of my blood. I will gladly take the ripping of my flesh, of my heart.
For I have learned that the blows will keep falling. Scars will be left.
But those scars are in fact my blessing.
Scar tissue makes me stronger.
Stop hiding your scars with shame.
Wear your scars with pride.
It means you’ve been courageous enough to leave the masses – even if just for a moment.
You’ve paid the price for speaking your truth.
That makes you a goddamn warrior!
Know this – even warriors get tired.
Walking the path is already arduous. Walking alone is gruelling.
We can all do with some company at times. Someone on a similar path. Who gets the crazy.
I own the fact that I probably would have stayed down if it wasn’t for all the warriors the Universe sends my way when I need it most.
A crazy-ass friend.
A hardcore coach.
A deck of cards that had me sobbing tears of relief this morning as the message spoke to my soul and reminded me that I’m not losing my fucking mind. That I’m going in the right direction.
If you’re feeling tired today then take my hand my friend.
Let’s wipe off our tears together.
Let’s take a deep breath.
Let’s put a t-spoon of cement in our black coffee and Harden The Fuck Up!
Our fight isn’t over.
The fight will never be over.
We have to be prepared to keep hurting.
For our craft.
For our passion.
For our purpose.
For no matter how ‘successful’ you become in this lifetime there will always be more work to do, more fights to fight, more blood to bleed.
Are you prepared to keep getting up?
I’m not done.
I’m not dead yet bitches.
I will rise again and again and you will feel the scorching heat of my passion for as long as I can take one more breath.
Shove the blue pill.
You’re gonna die anyway. Why not choose to thrive until then?
With all my love,