I am so human. And it feels hard, exhausting, and unfair sometimes. I hand over my power to people that don’t even know me. I let people wreck my sleep because they don’t do as they said they would do (read: as I expect them). I let people fuck with my sense of worthiness that don’t even matter, because they aren’t in my tribe. I let work raise in priority and my metrics determine my worth. I let my ego grind away my serenity and neglect my sense of poise and patience.
And that makes me human. That makes me real. That makes me susceptible to the reality that is sales, that is having relationships (of all kinds), that is being alive. The superhero cape that I thought I was sporting clearly got lost somewhere when I wasn’t paying attention. The thick armor skin that I thought I had developed was shedding. The perfect balance that I thought I had struck had tilted and the pendulum was again (briefly) too far to the other side.
And it’s OK. The times that are hard and exhausting and imbalanced are the times that we get to remember to do it differently the next time. The moments that are fatiguing and grueling and ego-shattering are the moments that we are reminded of how fragile the balance is to begin with and how worth the fight for serenity and patience really is. The times that we feel defeated are the times we remember to lean on a higher source. The times that we feel human, are the times that we remember to be our own friend.
I went through the motions: intense motivation and focus of getting shit done. The denial that I wasn’t going to get shit done and the people that told me they were weren’t going to either. The personalization and attachment to the outcome and my perception of what that may mean about me (as a person). The fear that it wasn’t going to happen at all, and I would be found out and less than. The tears that I was defeated and powerless and to think otherwise was making my life very unmanageable. The recognition that I needed to step back and pause and stop. The acknowledgement that the cape was gone. The permission to be seen by others. The allowance of those people comforting me and relating to me, without expecting them to. The anger that people are infallible, that I was letting it affect me so much and that I was let down. The frustration that I let people have some of my power. The realization that it was OK. The calm that I was responsible for myself and for being my own friend. The gratitude that I was wanting to take care of myself and comfort myself through sober practices, not continued destruction. The love. The peace. The quiet.
Sales is a hell of a ride, and so is being a human on planet Earth. Can you relate? I was so mad at myself for being just like everybody else in a moment of weakness, that I forgot that that moment was simply a snapshot into the right now that is a temporary piece of the entire journey. The journey that is comprised by temporary moments strung together, creating a masterpiece we hardly recognize when we step back and let it be what it is.
I’m grateful for the people that didn’t do what they told me they would. It made me realize that I am no better, no worse and no anything aside from human and doing the best that I can with the resources available to me (sleep included) in the moment I feel affected. And now that I know that, I can let it go and call them on Monday and threaten them to sign shit.
Just kidding. I can just call them normally and do what is within my control to do: take care of Alison and do the next thing right and let the results of doing that next right thing go.