Hating your wrongs

Picture a Pyramid of Giza ascending upward. The bottom or first block is the most important, it is the foundation. When I worked, my hierarchical design was built on this structure. Job at the base, then children, husband, and ultimately self. It had not always been like this, but when it wasn't, I had so much time to myself that all I did was have fun. For once, I was proud at how I'd invested time and energy into my career. With a Master's degree, managerial experience and a plethora of business pedagogy safely accessible in my brain, I had worked my way up the corporate ladder. But every day once I settled into my office and took a brief minute for me, I'd think "I hate myself."

Each morning, I brushed the thought from my mind and stated the obvious. I worked with the best and brightest, my ideas were not only accepted but executed easily and the environment was one for which people were paying exceptional amounts of money to have access. For years my goal was to socialize for a living, That's what I was doing. But the people were of no significance to me. I was hyperfocused on the wrong thing.

My husband was dismayed that I helped people have fun for a living. My role was essential. Relaxation is imperative to success and in a way, I guided and coached the elite's thought processes. I helped my community from the top down. Regardless, that thought crept in. Daily at 9am. Rain. Snow. Sunshine. So I accepted my failure, cried, quit and moved my block to daughter, husband, community, house, health.

I made mommy friends at classes and planned play dates. My husband's business took me on as a "my-girl-friday" and so I ran errands, created marketing plans and coached him on sales. In my neighborhood, it was easier to run to the store than to ask a neighbor for sugar. I strategized and planned events to turn it into an idyllic one like the street that fostered my growth.We remodeled and re-decorated. Signed up for a CSA (community supported agriculture a.k.a. organic, locally grown fruits and vegetables every week) and trained at the gym.

I looked healthier. But, my insides were anxious. My brain hurt. I was exhausted. The shape, distribution and design of my pyramid was moving. The negative talk was going away. In a week, I read Sanaya Roman's Living with Joy and Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist to make sense of the discomfort. With clarity that unease is part of growth, I forced myself ahead.