Hesitated to share this one but now that I'm through it, looking from the outside in, I'll let the keys speak (like Jay-Z making the Song Cry?). . I wake early, shift slowly from my sleep and realize I'm not alone. I'm with an old friend, maybe an old lover, and his presence is heavy. Comforting, possibly, for a moment. He asks me to stay in bed a little longer. The day doesn't need me. The world isn't looking for me.  I consider. Hit snooze half a dozen times until my senses start to sharpen and he takes form. My memory floods back in. This one used to drop by often for unannounced and unexpected periods of time. And I would let him stay.  But this morning, and others prior, I'm aware of the game. I get to my feet. I head out into the living room, flip on a light, and reach for my yoga mat. He reminds me that it's all pointless. I can skip it today. I'm too tired, too weak, too much of something or not enough of the other.  I roll it out. Go through the motions.  I transition to sit for my meditation. He reminds me of how much I have to do. How selfishly I'm wasting my time. How warm the bed still is. Still safe. Still dark and quiet.  I silence it. I ask him to sit patiently while I do what I said I was going to do.  Then I move to the kitchen. I turn the teapot on, I let the temperature rise, pour it into a mug, and drown a tea bag in it. I invite my visitor to have a seat. Sit down with me, tell me your fears, doubts, concerns, criticisms; all of it.  I listen without responding. I acknowledge all of it as valid. Real, even. I finish my mug, fill my lungs, beat my heart and thank the visitor for stopping by. It's a humbling reminder to know that he can still drop-in unannounced, but he can't stay this time.  I have places to be and people to see. I have a life of my own now. A mind of my own.

Hesitated to share this one but now that I'm through it, looking from the outside in, I'll let the keys speak (like Jay-Z making the Song Cry?).
.
I wake early, shift slowly from my sleep and realize I'm not alone. I'm with an old friend, maybe an old lover, and his presence is heavy. Comforting, possibly, for a moment. He asks me to stay in bed a little longer. The day doesn't need me. The world isn't looking for me.

I consider. Hit snooze half a dozen times until my senses start to sharpen and he takes form. My memory floods back in. This one used to drop by often for unannounced and unexpected periods of time. And I would let him stay.

But this morning, and others prior, I'm aware of the game. I get to my feet. I head out into the living room, flip on a light, and reach for my yoga mat. He reminds me that it's all pointless. I can skip it today. I'm too tired, too weak, too much of something or not enough of the other.

I roll it out. Go through the motions.

I transition to sit for my meditation. He reminds me of how much I have to do. How selfishly I'm wasting my time. How warm the bed still is. Still safe. Still dark and quiet.

I silence it. I ask him to sit patiently while I do what I said I was going to do.

Then I move to the kitchen. I turn the teapot on, I let the temperature rise, pour it into a mug, and drown a tea bag in it. I invite my visitor to have a seat. Sit down with me, tell me your fears, doubts, concerns, criticisms; all of it.

I listen without responding. I acknowledge all of it as valid. Real, even. I finish my mug, fill my lungs, beat my heart and thank the visitor for stopping by. It's a humbling reminder to know that he can still drop-in unannounced, but he can't stay this time.

I have places to be and people to see. I have a life of my own now. A mind of my own.

Life by Design was born out of a need for my own self-healing after decades of unresolved illness. It wasn’t until finding the courage to look within that I discovered it was my own belief system holding me back from experiencing a truly thriving life. We all have access to that thriving life. We just need to rediscover our power and ignite the healing-self. Only then can we unapologetically live a life by our own design.