I am a recovering perfectionist, productivity chaser, and people pleaser, coaching women to disrupt old thought patterns, let go of behaviors that keep them stuck, and make their joy an everyday priority.
Can You Trust You? Or Do You Frequently Break Your Own Promises To Yourself?
Howdy, Huhu, Reader,
I bet you are pretty reliable. Keep your commitments. Show up on time. Bake the cake. Stay the extra hour. Bring the dish. Answer the call. Remember the birthday gifts. Host the holiday gathering.
I mean, within reason, right? We are perfectly imperfect humans. I have left friends stranded at the airport at night. Forgotten to pick up the groceries. And I have even been late to meetings. 😱
In general, people can count on you to show up for them, though.
Can you count on you to show up for you, though?
I read about a survey today where most respondents answered: “I trust myself when it comes to honoring commitments I’ve made to others. But not when it comes to commitments that I’ve made to myself.”
If you think that’s not a big deal, think again.
Unless we break a commitment to ourselves to keep another (say: skip exercising to get more sleep or sacrifice sleep for writing or reading all night), we are sending a detrimental signal to our minds: I am not relevant. I don’t deserve it. Others’ needs are more important.
Once or twice - fine. Life happens. Motivation is a fickle cat. And sometimes others’ needs ARE more urgent than ours.
But imagine somebody who breaks their promises repeatedly. Who doesn’t show up for you. Who never calls you back. Who didn’t bring the cake they promised. Again.
Hopefully, you don’t trust them to take care of your needs, to support your desires and dreams. Or with your cake supply chain.
But you see, our subconscious doesn’t trust us either if we keep neglecting our needs.
How is anyone supposed to take our dreams seriously if we don’t? How can we ever plan on reaching any summit if we don’t trust ourselves to even show up at the trailhead?
Like everything, the road to different actions starts with awareness. I remember the exact moment when I caught a story inside my head about my husband not taking my coaching business seriously. I realized quickly that it was ME who didn’t. It was ME, who treated it like a hobby. And I opened a business bank account that same week just to send a new and different signal to my brain: I AM IN. YOU CAN COUNT ON ME.
Here are today’s invitations for reflection:
🦩 How trustworthy are you when it comes to your commitments to yourself?
🦩 When was the last time you flaked on yourself?
🦩 What summits could you reach if this flakiness ended right now?
From my committed heart to yours,
Welcome to my Joy Letters
I am a recovering perfectionist, productivity chaser, and people pleaser, coaching women to disrupt old thought patterns, let go of behaviors that keep them stuck, and make their joy an everyday priority.
Guten Tag, Reader, I am just getting off the river as this hits your inbox, so I am sharing a letter from two years ago that has not lost any of its relevance. Two things before you get to read that gem, though: Moss Hour, my virtual Forest Bathing Gathering formerly known as "Backyard Baths," is happening on July 7. I'd love it if you dropped in. The Solstice is nearing, and if you are in Missoula, please join me at Waterworks Hill for a Mindful Saunter on June 20, 6-7:30 p.m. The details...
Guten Tag, Reader, It was still dark. Still cool. The rising sun threw only the slightest glimmer onto the very tops of the canyon walls. Soon, it would be bright. Warm. Hot probably. But not yet. Right then, all movement on the beach was guided by headlamps. The women were still wearing that extra layer as they broke down camp for the last time on this adventure. They moved with skill, strength, and grit. Unexperienced strangers just a week ago, they had bonded into a tight team of confident...
Guten Tag, Reader, “I did not know clouds could do that,” I thought, lying on my back, staring at the surprisingly warm May morning as it dramatically unfolded across the sky. Clouds in a higher layer, shaped like a Hogwarts staircase, moved one way, while their relatives in a lower layer, shaped like a bowl of apples, moved another. Had I stuck with studying physics, I might have been able to name and explain this phenomenon. Luckily, I didn’t, so I could fully experience it instead. These...