If you have something to say, just SAY IT!
I need you to know this.
There are no new ideas. There are no new things to say. There is nothing to say that hasn’t been said before. If you’re waiting to have something NEW to say, you’re shit outta luck.
I can’t even tell you how many people I talk to who haven’t written that book yet, or want to blog, or something, but they say they haven’t got anything new to say.
So here’s what I want you to know
NO ONE, not anyone on the planet, has your unique combination of experience, education, history, character, personality, values, filters, psychology, even chemistry.
Not anyone else.
You might be able to group yourself in with other Virgos, or ENTJs, or air monkeys, or ambiverts, or youngest children, or divorced widows, or ANYTHING, but no other individuals in those groups have the exact same makeup as you.
- no one else will look at things quite like you.
- no one else will express your ideas quite like you.
- no one else can say the things you want to say, in just the same way.
So if you have something to say, for the love of all that is good and interesting and worth being said,
JUST SAY IT.
We want to hear from you.
PS: Oprah’s right! #noceilingsallowed
My 40s have been an exercise in being permissive.
I was calling it an exercise in removing restrictions and barriers until I realised that then I was giving power to any remaining restrictions and barriers.
Well, fuck that.
The power is mine.
I claim the power to give myself permission
The emancipation of Shelly
I don’t think that’s unusual – for a woman in her 40s to become more powerful in her own world. But being typical doesn’t make my experience any less incredible to me living it.
It has been nothing less than emancipatory – realising I didn’t need anyone’s permission but mine.
I needed to give myself permission to live the life I wanted to live. I needed to give myself permission to speak the words I wanted to speak. To wear the clothes I wanted to wear. To present myself to the world the way I wanted to be seen.
This post is the result of me giving myself permission.
I wanted to write a post every day for 40 days.
And, what made that not only possible but REALLY EASY was removing any restrictions about what and how I wrote.
I gave myself permission to write ANYTHING. Not just about writing. Not just about branding. Not just about the things I’m known for, but anything.
I removed a barrier.
I gave myself permission.
It seems like such a tiny thing.
But it’s everything.
What do YOU need to give yourself permission to do?
I did the best I could.
I tried my hardest.
I couldn’t have done more.
I used to feel guilty every time I thought or said any one of those statements. I thought they were lies.
The superwoman days
You see, I have these days every now and then that I call my superwoman days.
On those days, I get up ridiculously early, stay up ridiculously late, and accomplish a super-human amount of stuff. I go and go and go and push and push and push.
I produce, I meet milestones and deadlines and demands, all in between client meetings and calls, maybe travelling between cities, and all while wearing heels and makeup. And maybe cooking dinner and hugging a child or two.
Fuck. I’m tired even thinking about it.
Beware the lies we tell ourselves
But here’s where the lying comes in: Since I do have superwoman days, I saw those as me being my best, trying my hardest, and only those days.
Every other day I counted as me being less than. Less than my best. Less than trying my hardest.
So on difficult days, on days when I was feeling low or everything turned to shit, or all the cats didn’t get herded, or clients got let down or my feet were just too fucking sore for heels, and I tried to be kind to myself and say, I did the best I could, I didn’t believe it. I thought I could do better.
I mean, I can be superwoman! I have proof! And on this day I hadn’t. So I clearly hadn’t done my best.
I lived this way for a long, long time (hello, antidepressants).
Mindset makeover required
Until I realised that my superwoman days were just that: SUPERHUMAN.
More than my best. They were anomalies. Exceptions to the norm. Really fucking impressive and exciting, but exceptions nevertheless.
I had to acknowledge that no one can be superwoman every day. That’s not my best! It’s BEYOND MY BEST.
What I do every other day, every day when I get up and am kind to people and get shit done, and get dressed or don’t, and work or don’t, and cry or don’t, that is me doing my best. That is me trying my hardest.
Because we all fucking do the best we can, every fucking day.
Put the cape away.
Put it away.
Pull it out on special occasions.
But recognise that it’s not everyday-wear.
You’re NOT actually superwoman.