Honestly this is the ideal question for me because I wish I could live in Bloxburg. It’s a fictional town in a Roblox game called called Welcome to Bloxburg.
It’s the coolest app because in it you can virtually design any home you can imagine. And since I’ve been envisioning my dream home since 2006, I had so much fun putting it together one wall, one window, one floor at a time!
The other cool thing about this game is that you don’t just design your home and look at what you created. You are a character so you get to live in it.
In the game, I was able to cook food on the stove I purchased. I could shower in the bathroom I designed. I could sleep in my bed. And doing all of this was not just fun. It was something deeper for me.
When I was deeply focused on utilizing the law of attraction and manifesting the life of my dreams—things I learned inadequately through the movie The Secret and from various metaphysical teachers—I was always looking for new ways to envision the life I wanted. I felt like seeing it and living it was going to get me closer to actualizing it.
Whether that’s true or not, I have no idea. But it is what I actively believed for a long time. I followed so many different thought leaders who made it seem just that easy. As time has gone by and various dreams have yet to be actualized I’ve accepted that there are some steps that many leave out of those teachings. However, it was truly a joyful, blissful experience to escape into my dream life and to be in my dream home imagining life there.
Given the various challenges I am currently experiencing, and overcoming, right now, it definitely seems that the fantasy of getting to live in the game will come sooner than the day I get to actualize my dream in reality. So it would be awesome, even for 24 hours, to get to live in my dream home I created.
Here’s a glimpse… of one of my houses. I should visit again soon.
I just woke from the weirdest dream. I don’t recall all the early details, but I’ll tell you how it ended. I was standing gleefully crafting—painting designs on bags. One side was detailed and professional, but on the back side, I was painting freely like a child with watercolor paints.
I had the biggest smile on my face as I was in pure bliss, when I heard a family coming down the stairs from around the corner. When they approached, I saw they were a family I respect that has done so much in the music industry. They knew me and asked what I was doing. And with no shame I smiled at them, held up my crafts and said, “painting like a child.”
They were impressed because on one of the bags I had painted a realistic portrait of their family. On the other side was the equivalent of a finger painting. The wife (who turned into Beyonce after they saw the painting—dreams are weird like that) was both happy to see the painting but also had a look of disappointment. She said, “I wish I had time for things like that. I’d love to be finger painting.” And I understood exactly what she meant. I heard what she didn’t say. I let them know I’d have to let their painting dry and we said our goodbyes and I thought about her words.
I have in real life watched many Beyonce interview videos. And if you’re not a fan, please don’t get distracted. It’s not about her, so picture whatever person you feel deserves, or holds her level of, similar fame.
The life that they experience—the good parts: the fame, the success, the money, the access, even the support personnel they have—is often envied. Who wouldn’t want to have lots more money, to be treated with more respect, and have automatic access to the finer things in life?
And, with that comes some sacrifice and lots of hours more of work and commitment that I honestly don’t have in me. I personally hated—and I mean vehemently loathed—having to be at work if my child needed me. The idea that if she was sick at school, or had a daytime school program, I could not attend because I was at somebody’s job made me all but physically ill. I hated it. I missed her first day of school, because that same year I started working at a school. Her first day was also my first day. So rather than risk losing my new job by missing the most important day, we had been planning for for months, I let my dad take her. And I will likely feel that “pit” in my stomach for the rest of my life when I think of how I missed that day and will never get it back.
That moment, mixed with the first time I had to ask a coworker to work a shift for me so I could be at my daughter’s school program, was kinda the last straw for me. The thought that I had to prioritize work over my daughter, that if my coworker didn’t agree to come in I wouldn’t be able to attend, was a dealbreaker for me. And to many that sounds so silly and just part of being an adult in the workforce. But to me—someone who has wanted to be a stay-at-home mom since I was a kid—it was absolutely unacceptable. The idea that some random employer got to decide for me when I could be available for my child… again… was not gonna work for me.
Having to constantly choose between my child and my job was irritating. I had to close the office alone long after my coworkers and boss left. By the time I balanced the books, cleaned the offices, and locked up, I would literally have to run to my car, beat traffic, to get my daughter’s school. Most days she was sitting in the front, with the last staff members, who were waiting on me so they could lock the school.
And my job, of course, didn’t appreciate the sacrifice. They didn’t care that my daughter was the last child to be picked up each day. They didn’t care that I’m a single parent so when I don’t show up to her programs—unless I got my parents to go—she was the only child with no one family in the audience. All that mattered to them was that I was there to do what they needed, and that I made sure my work responsibilities were covered if I couldn’t be. And I hated that. She was, and still is, my highest priority and and a job that didn’t even appreciate me was not going to keep getting in the way.
So soon after I called off to attend one of her school program, I quit that job. And haven’t been an employee since.
Although I take great pride in making that decision that day—that essentially I was going to have to sink or swim as an entrepreneur because I was done being an employee—I made a huge sacrifice. I’ve heard many friends commend me for doing it because they are mothers too, and wish they had been more present for the kids, but had to go to work. And I feel torn as they look at what I’ve done as some huge accomplishment, because I look at the life they’ve been able to give their children and wish that I had been able to do the same. And when I tell them that, they don’t change their response to my choice. They remind me of how far I’ve gotten without having an employer, that my child’s needs have been met, and that although I may not have what I want that she has had what she needs. They remind me that I have been present and how blessed my daughter is to have a mom she can rely on to be “there.”
And I try to take it in. I try to feel good about it. I try to remember my resolve that had me walk off that job back then. And all I see is the sacrifice. All I see is the struggle. All I see is how uphill it’s been to not have money—the steady income—that comes with regular employment. I see the humbling moments when I had to ask for help or tell my daughter I couldn’t get/give her what she was requesting.
I see the unexpected loss of viability that came with back-to-back emotional traumas that stripped me of the independence I once had….
Being an entrepreneur requires that you can self-motivated, self-start, and keep opportunities and income flowing in. What I did not anticipate when I walked off that job was that life would beat me up so bad, with so many devastating blows, that I would pretty much forget who I was and what I was capable of. I had no idea of a term called skill regression that can happen in neurodivergent people when life traumas hit so hard that you literally forget how to do things you used to be good at and do easily. I didn’t foresee my absentee ex taking me to court, nor my mom having a medical emergency the following year causing me to become her caregiver. I had no idea that the year after that there would be a global pandemic, or that I’d be diagnosed as neurodivergent or experience numerous losses of friends and loved ones. I had no idea that all of that would happen, overwhelm my system, and render me incapable of doing the things I used to do to earn money.
And I’m grateful that despite the loss of my ability to remember how to do the things I once did, that my writing and sharing stories hasn’t left me. I am grateful that my ability to find value in the moments is still a part of me. I am grateful that even as I share this today I am finding the truth of my experiences—the common thread that makes them collectively make sense and bring me peace. I am grateful that you are here, a witness to my experience, gaining what you can from what I share…
Sometimes we look at another person’s life and think, “I wish I could…,” but we have no idea what losses they sustain to have it that way. We see the good they show, but have no idea what is missing from the picture. We see the beautiful portrait, but have no idea what’s on the backside of that painting.
Today I am grateful for the dream that helped me make sense of my life as it is right now. I’ve recently learned about this concept of skill regression, but today was the first time I put it all together and understood the full story—my full story…. well, at least these parts of the journey. I needed this…. to share this… to see this… for my own healing. And I hope that somewhere in here you’re able to gain a message for yourself.
I’ll preface this with this is MY experience of being neurodivergent and introverted. I can’t speak for everyone else. AND I believe my experience may shed light on other people’s experience of being a person with ADHD, a person who is introverted, and a person who carries angst and shame for not being punctual.
Tap the play button to listen to today’s podcast. Tap & hold first if necessary, then tap play.FYI I cuss so wait ’til the kids and elders aren’t around. Press play to listen to today’s podcast. Blessings!
If you fall into any of those categories or deal with social anxiety, rejection sensitive dysphoria (which I’m just now learning about and am pretty sure I’ve been dealing with for a long time), or know someone who might, then this episode of Share & Let’s Live! is for you.
If you’re new here, I share my stories of navigating life and the insights that help me make sense of it. I do so via my podcast, that is not at all a lecture. It’s a one-on-one conversation between me and you. And I believe there’s value in sharing my experiences and my stories, even the personal stuff, because I truly believe that I heal publicly so you (someone you know) can heal privately.
I discovered something today… a link between all of this and I’d like to share it with you. Maybe it can help you on your self-love journey. So check out my story, by pressing play above.
All my life I have looked at everything I’ve done as a win or lose situation—I passed or I failed.
Having that kind of mentality definitely didn’t make for a fun experience. I’ve moved through life with so much angst, constantly worrying about making a mistake.
Parents don’t always realize how their style of parenting will negatively impact their children. It’s like they believe they are acting in (what they feel is) the child’s best interest. So the constant comparisons and criticism isn’t intended to break the child’s spirit. They’re actually supposed to make them better, show up more prepared in a competitive society. It’s intended to make them improve so they can stand up against their peers and win.
And honestly for some it works. They get that push and stand up to the challenge. They try harder, they train more, they show up motivated by the “negative” reinforcement. While many others have their spirits broken.
The negative energy, the constantly being told they are: wrong, messing up, and not good enough feeds into their psyche. And they begin to believe their efforts are pointless. They’ll never get it right. They’ll never get ANYTHING right.
I was the latter.
All the negativity, constant criticism, assuming I was not cut out for whatever I was attempting, comparing me to my siblings (and every body else’s kids), highlighting everything I did wrong while downplaying my accomplishments, and celebrating the outstanding accomplishments of my friends in front of me while asking why I can’t be more like them, all made feel that I wasn’t good enough, whatever I was doing wasn’t good enough, and even if did succeed at something, it wouldn’t matter because they’d never truly acknowledge or celebrate it.
So at a young age, I stopped trying. I stopped caring. I stopped trying to get their approval.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I still wanted their approval. I wanted them to be proud of me, to say I did a good job, to tell their friends about me (the way they always told me about their friends’ kids). I just knew better than to expect that.
I went through life, from the second grade on, just doing the bare minimum. My internal question was not, “How do win?” it was, “What’s the least I can do and not fail?” Because if I failed, I got in trouble. So I needed to coast at average—no higher, no lower.
And that’s what I did. I stopped trying so hard, stopped pushing myself. It was pointless. No one would care or they’d make me feel like crap for not doing it better. My best was never good enough, so I decided to stop putting in best effort….
Wow. You know what’s crazy? This post was gonna be about how today I tried something new, just for me. On how I did something I’ve never done before, and minutes into the process I realized I didn’t like it. And how instead of feeling like I failed at it, internally I said, “That was fun.” It wasn’t for me, but at least I tried it.”
Everything I shared so far in this post was the background and the build up for how I realized everything I do in my life has been a win or a fail. I was going to talk about how I didn’t see life as simply living, but a series of win/lose experiences until you die.
And it was this morning, as I tried something new—putting on fake, press-on nails for the first time—that I had this epiphany. I was so excited about putting on these nails. I had them for like a month, but waited so I could wear them to match the current holiday. It took a lot to get me to sit still and actually do the steps to put them on (because ADHD and executive dysfunction).
Then, as I began to put them on, it wasn’t going so well. They weren’t looking how I thought they would. Every new nail looked more ridiculous than the last. It was like this generic set didn’t fit my fingernails. And I quickly decided I prefer my real nails.
At first, I felt like I had failed at doing this task I had been planning for weeks. I wanted to check this task off as a win. So I kept trying to press through, and put the rest on anyway, even though I wasn’t really liking how they fit. Then I got honest with myself and accepted they just weren’t… me.
So I decided not to put the rest on. The thumb nails looked good, so I kept those. But I removed all the rest of the nails and decided to just “paint” the others for fun and do it my own way (with two press-ons and my real nails).
And that’s when I thought to myself that instead of calling my attempt a “fail” I could just call it a “fun.” And that was gonna be the whole post.
I was going to conclude by saying how we can try things in life. We can choose not to put a pass/fail label on things, and decide to look at them and say, “that was fun, but not for me,” or “that was fun, at least I tried.” But we don’t have to label it a failure.
But what I just realized, as I was building up to tell the story is something deeper….
I realized that the letdowns over the years, from running excited to share my good news with my parents only to be met with… a lack of enthusiasm, or worse criticism… rewired my response to my own joy, creativity, and good news.
I get excited… at first… when I do something I’ve been wanting to do, when I follow through on inspiration, or have a great opportunity fall in my lap. AND very rapidly I shift from that joy and eagerness, and poke a hole in my happy balloon and start to leak out my excitement.
I make my happy thing not a big deal. I start to find what’s wrong with my new piece. I start to think of all the reasons my great idea won’t work. Soon I can only see what’s wrong and I stop liking it. Then, I shelve it and either go sedentary for a while, or move on to the next thing.
I realized that I started to do to my own excitement what they used to do. I tear my new thing apart before anyone else can. I get “real” and see all the reasons people won’t buy it, pay for it, share about it, or like it. And then I stop being in love with it….
I think over the years I trained myself to back my heart out of “it” (the project, product, opportunities, etc.) to avoid disappointment.
I hated the feeling of trying so hard, working to ensure everything was perfect, going to them expecting a “good job” or a “this is amazing,” only to receive criticism or just a lack of enthusiasm. I loathed the many hours, days, weeks of effort I put into doing exceptionally well in school, or on creating a drawing, craft, etc., only to be met with the most dry, emotionless, “Oh, ok.” “You always do that.” “The ear is cut off. You’ll have to do it over.”
I learned to fall out of love with what matters to me before anyone could steal my joy. I learned to make my passions feel unimportant before anyone else could. And I’ve been doing it for so long that I didn’t realize it.
As I think about my business and projects and products, I see how it’s impacting how I think about and promote all I can do and have created.
Of course, at first, I’m so excited, like, “Look at my shiny new thing. I made it all by myself.” 🥰 But that rapidly turns into, “I know you’re probably busy, but I did this thing, and if it isn’t too much of a bother could you maybe check it out….when you find time…or if not, it’s okay. I totally understand….”
Every time I create something, I’m so proud of myself and excited. And within days, weeks, or months, I’m already over it. And it’s not that I don’t still love it or feel I did a great job on it. It’s that mean inner voice making it small, convincing me no one wants it, no one cares, and that it’s not good enough.
I start to pick it apart, and find the flaws, and fall out of love with it. I start planning a revised version, or shelve it and come up with a brand new project—something new I can get behind, be excited about, and promote.
I go through this cycle over and over again, with product after project. I stop liking it. I stop promoting it. Then I wonder why I have so much greatness to offer but nobody is buying, ordering, or booking.
So today I’m grateful that I leaned into the nudge to start this blog post. I was on here to talk about press-on nails and ended up finding something so much deeper. And, of course, this is just the realization. I haven’t done the work, yet. But the awareness comes first. It’s a very important first step.
So I’ve gotta find a way to fall back in love with my creations and stop…..
No. I have to heal that little girl who ran excited to her parents—with her newly completed art project, beaming with pride—the one who was met with, “Oh, ok” and “why didn’t you have your sibling help you with that?” 🙄 I need to show up for her and remind her that it’s not a competition and I get to be proud of my growth and my skills, that what I accomplished mattered because I know what effort it took for me. And I get to release outside opinions about my work and recognize that people who don’t appreciate what I do are not my target market. Their opinions are not reflective of every human being. AND their opinions no longer get to change what I believe about what I do, create, it’s value, or my value.
I get to heal so this old messaging can stop cutting a hole in my happy balloon, leaking the excitement out of every creation, every project, and all my good things…. and you can heal yours, too.
We don’t always realize how those interactions with people in our past (and present) impact how we show up in our lives. We don’t always see that our voice, our creativity, and even our excitement is colored by past experiences.
So if this message resonates, begin to pay attention to those internal, and external, voices that leak the joy out of your good things. It might be some old messaging, or it might be people in your life currently who don’t create a safe space for your happy stuff.
Some people are negative and unsupportive and never see the bright side. Those are not the people you tell your dreams to. They will suck the life out of them before you even get a chance to truly pursue them. It’s natural to want to share our good news. AND we have to be selective and know whose influence can derail us.
And if you, like me, have some old messaging to clear up, know that it’s worth it. Learning about inner child work is a great first step. I did a post on this some time ago. You can find it here.
Let’s heal. Let’s protect our energy. Let’s give ourselves a chance to shine and keep shining.
In honor of this post and my beautiful inner child, I am sharing some of my good things below.
Tap the images to learn more about each item and how you can order and/or personalize items for yourself or someone you love. Thank you.
