How did I get to a life where I’m THRIVING?
(SKIP TO THE PART where YOU can learn how to THRIVE!)
Well, there are treks through Swamps of Sadness, rides on uni-llama-corns, brave journeys into dark thorny brambles of the soul, and unexpected blessings of drunken poetry. There is no Prince Charming. There are ugly bathroom-stall cries, and times “I cried so hard, tears ran down my leg.” There are shame, isolation, migraines, hundreds of chocolate chip cookies, friends, angels, demons, bad haircuts, the miracle of life, and the miracle of a soul, finally, heard.
33 Years. That’s how long it took before I woke up. At that point, I had an oversized suburban house and a toddler for each leg. I had it all, and, yet, every day I woke up and felt old and crumpled, like at least 50. (which seemed old at the time, but, really, 50 is the new 40…)
One Me-for-You, coming right up!
For those 33 years, I was a Me-For-You. I could be or do anything that you needed me to be.
- You want a daughter who’s a mommy’s little helper? Done.
- Straight-A student? BOOM.
- Good wife? All over it.
- Hardworking, sacrificial co-worker? Easy-peasy.
- Helicopter mommy? I was made for this. No, really.
Over the years, I developed a finely-tuned radar – let’s just call it a Hei-Dar – for whatever other people need from me. And I didn’t even know I was doing it.
So, here’s the rub. And yes, I love my parents, and I love my kids, and I loved my husband. I wouldn’t change any part of my life, not even now. I started hearing a small voice. (No, not in a creepy Carol-Ann-poltergeist kinda way).
I listened, doubted, reorganized my linen closet, and ate a lot of Wisconsin extra sharp cheddar cheese. I found friends, a pastor, and a therapist. I prayed and journaled and cried. I found my words – spoken and written. I stopped people-pleasing to get others’ approval. That. part. is. so. damned. hard. I’m not shitting you. And I heard MY OWN VOICE, my intuition.
Amazing crap can happen to Y.O.U.
Then, some embryo-sized miracles started happening. (Not the real kind, THANK GOD – two is enough for this mamma.) Kinda like when the fairy godmothers make Cinderella’s ball gown, but in extreme slow-mo and without the horrifying corset.
It took 10 years to realize that I was evolving into a Me-for-Me. I looked back and had somehow made it, all while being a parent, through depression, anxiety, divorce, mid-life lesbian awakening, unemployment, codependency, and one overly-complicated caffeine addiction recovery.
And, no, the road wasn’t laid in front of me yellow-brick-road style. Yes, there was a lot of the “one step forward and two steps back” and, “I’m just gonna wallow in my life” years. Forward is never only forward. That’s a myth we tell ourselves and then our perfectionist side gets to hate on us even more.
BUT, the miracle of the Me-for-Me evolution is that, by choosing and listening to myself, I opened the doors to who I am, what I believe, and what I am really put on this earth to do.
I am now a THRIVING soul. And I know how to get you to THRIVING, too.
Why should you care?
I am here to help you choose you. And You choose a Joyful life where you are THRIVING. I have two decades of relationship-building, storytelling, strategic planning, co-active coaching, and emotional intelligence experience. I provide wrap-around coaching support and love and the next bite-sized step to a life where you THRIVE.
Create a life where you are THRIVING. Schedule a Joy Chat with me today!
sending much love, light, and laughter
Heidi Esther, aka Heidster, Storyteller, Joy Coach, Author, Certified Emotional Intelligence Life coach, a mamma bear-who’s-been-there, you best new non-preachy mom-friend
PS So, that’s the shortest version of my story that I could muster. Did you fall asleep during it? Yea, I try not to use bullet points, either. (And, no, it’s not all fluffy uni-llama-corns over here at my house: I have dogs on anxiety meds, two teenagers, and one slow internet connection during the pandemic. Thank goodness I already put my zucchini plants-turned-squash-bug food in the garbage. I’ve tried 4 years now. Seriously, I thought the midwest had the most fertile soil in the world. Oh well, there’s always next year, AND I planted daisies in their place. Take that squash bugs!)
