So it was really interesting finishing up my book over the past few weeks. The final editing and review process was especially challenging for me as my biggest personal blocks and self sabotage methods showed up.
Yup, let’s eat too much — then I’ll feel really full, overfull, and not want to do any work. And if I feel too full, then I guess I’ll just sit here and think about how fat I must be getting and that I’d better get serious and figure my shit out. Yeah, a mindset that is really conducive for inspiring me to do anything (not). Easily annoyed with the kids being kids and picking at small things with Bill? Check. And after picking a fight, I feel irritable and off so obviously it’s not a good time to work on my book. Staying up too late and then struggling to get up in the morning while it’s still quiet (which is when I like to work best)? Done and done. Then since I got up so late, I clearly don’t have enough time to get anything done before getting the kids going, and if I can’t get to the work in the morning, then why bother trying later in the day. Morning or bust.
Yeah, the last few weeks of the book went slowly, an internal struggle each day. A big thank you to my mastermind buddy Jill who suggested setting myself a goal I could step over each day. My daily to do item: just open the document. Don’t worry about trying to do anything more, just open the damn thing. Yes, I could do that, even if it was the very last thing I did before bed. While some of the days I just opened and shut it, more of the days I would glance over a few sentences and then find myself 15 minutes down the road, some editing done.
If I’m honest with myself, I kept getting in my own way because I was afraid of what others might think. Will they like the book, my words, me? Will they think it was a waste of my time and stupid? Will they wonder why I’m wasting my life doing what I’m doing (or so the mean voice in my head would like me to think)? When I’d start listening to the fear (and it would whisper in incredibly cunning ways), I’d get paralyzed. And nothing would happen.
What I’m (slowly) learning: it doesn’t really matter what anyone else thinks about the book, my work, me. That’s not to say I think it’s unimportant to consider others’ feelings as I move about in the world. We live in a beautiful society in which we’re all interwoven: what I do impacts you and vice versa. Rather, I’m seeing it is imperative to honor myself and share authentically, from a place of love. That involves managing my own feelings and emotions, and letting others manage theirs (and reminding myself that others’ thoughts are theirs and they are totally entitled to their own opinions, and it’s okay if they differ from mine; it doesn’t invalidate me or my opinions/feelings).
I was excited when I looked at the copies of my book on my bookshelf this morning, and it’s really cool to search on Amazon and find my book listed. I think this is the first true item I’ve ever checked off my bucket list, and it feels amazing. If I can do this, I can do anything.