It occurred to me, while sitting at my desk doing my daily mailers and prospecting activities, that there’s a high likelihood that no one would notice if I didn’t post a blog every week. I am battling the nagging sensation that people close to me don’t care about my creativity or support my writing, which then pushes me back to the intention of my posting in the first place.
I don’t do it for people to read and praise and acknowledge me. YES, of course their support and their enthusiasm at risking my vulnerability and exposing my humanness goes a long way as I am still human and appreciate people appreciating me, but in the end: I do not post for them.
And as with most thoughts that I have and the process I’ve learned in questioning them, it brought me to the subject of personal accountability: the things we do when nobody else is watching. The things I do every day that I don’t tell anybody about or ask for permission or support.
It starts with going to bed early and leaving my phone downstairs, so I can fall asleep. In the morning, rolling out of bed and onto my knees, every morning regardless of where I am and what I have to do. This practice places me in a place of neutrality and submission and usefulness, knowing that the day has been set and most of the outcomes are out of my control entirely. It reframes my ego and reminds me that I am small, and that who I am and how I am matters above 99.9% of the things my ego is obsessing at any given time.
It then goes to stretching and taking care of my body – drinking water before coffee. Acknowledging Bam and her morning excitement and kisses all before touching my phone. Doing my best to read my morning reading and set my mind for the day, before diving into responses from the texts and calls I received overnight. Feeding myself a wholesome breakfast and connecting with loved ones before I turn on my work notifications. Drinking a gallon of water every day and eating within 4 hours of food designed by a professional and planned by me. Moving around a little and in between slaving to a chair or my car.
Then it goes further – being kind to Bam and her ever decreasing walking speed. Letting her sniff the shit that I can’t appreciate while we slow. Breathing deeply and appreciating the backyard that I am privy to in Columbia, and the trails right behind my house. Sending gratitude and thanks that I can walk and that I can move and that despite some hip grief I really am totally sound and competent and healthy. Not all of us are.
Then it goes to work. I answer every email, follow-up on every promise, and do my best to remain patient in a sales role that begs me not to be. I pick up the phone and let people know I am thinking of them: my parents, my grandma, my friends. I show up for what I said I would unless it hurts my energy or ability to serve that day. I train according to my program. I give my best effort with what I have available that day. I finish the 45 minutes of hills even though I would rather walk. I finish the minute, the entirety of it, or make up the 10 seconds I bailed on the minute prior because I thought I was going to puke. I do my grip work with the weight prescribed and I go to the obstacle gym because I said I would dominate my next race and leave as minimal gaps as possible in my abilities to do so. I do my PT work and core.
I write. I read. Every day and every night.
Why? Why do I do these things, every day, whether people are watching or not?
Because it builds my self-esteem. Because esteemable acts build confidence. Because it builds my character. Because it makes me feel better about myself knowing that I am the most reliable person in my life. Because I know who I am when I do the things I am supposed to do, and I know at the end of the day I did what I could to be the best version of myself. Because it matters to me.
Because I didn’t take care of myself, for years and years and years. Because I tried to blame the people and the circumstances and the variables around me, instead of owning my shit. Because I got sick and tired of being sick and tired.
Because I owe it to God and to myself to be my own friend, to be my own refuge, to be my own well.
Are you your own reliable resource, or are you still outsourcing the blame and the excuses?
We have similar days. Mine is a little less structured than yours but has the daily “must do’s” for sure.
The discipline when practiced consistently becomes muscle memory like.
Thank you for your example!
Rich
Thank you for your continued practice, and support!