Tag Archives: meditation

You are Worth the Work

All relationships require work, don’t they? There are moments of pure joy and moments of tearful recriminations. The best relationships aren’t great because there is no conflict, but because both parties make a point of being kind to each other, to keeping open communication, setting boundaries, engaging, being passionate about and for each other.

But that takes work and sometimes the work is hard. And sometimes, you have to ask yourself whether the work is worth it.

A relationship with yourself requires the same commitment. Your own self-esteem, self-love, all of that takes work. And it’s a process. Sometimes, I feel I go through months of feeling on top of the world, proud of myself and all of my accomplishments, sure that I am living the dream, looking in the mirror every day and telling myself how awesome I am…. and sometimes, I feel I’m a half a step away from losing my mind, and just getting out of bed and changing clothes feels like a gigantic step forward.

Self-love is a process. It’s not a straight line, it’s a never-ending spiral. You’ll keep  coming back to the same problems, the same issues, the same old recordings you play back in your head. The times you were abused or insulted or made to feel less than. Self-love works to dig out those old recordings, but sometimes, the tools learned through self-work really don’t erase the tapes. They simply give us a way to hit pause when they keep coming back around.

My classes aren’t about fixing you because you aren’t broken. Even if you think you are, I promise that you aren’t. My classes are about giving you the tools you need to move forward into your own self-work… they’re about teaching you that learning to love yourself isn’t a far away dream. It’s real and it’s attainable and it’s worth it. It is so worth it.

Come join me on Monday, August 8th at 8 PM EST for a six week course on self-love. We’ll address abolishing negative self-talk, overcoming fear and self-doubt, setting healthy boundaries, and so much more.

 

Email me at bethburnett70@yahoo.com for more information.

 

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New Self Love Classes

The next set of classes that still have openings start on February First. Class times are Mondays at 7 PM EST, Mondays at 9 PM EST, Tuesdays at 8 PM EST,  and Saturdays at 10 AM EST. (Additional class will be added on Tuesdays at 9:30 PM if needed.) Classes are limited to ten per class. Each class consists of six weekly live classes, with homework and in class exercises. Classes address abolishing negative self talk, overcoming fear and self doubt, setting healthy boundaries, how to live your dreams, and actual steps to loving and cherishing yourself. Lifetime access to the Facebook Self Love group for all past participants is included. This class offers women a chance to come into their own power and start living their lives in joy. Classes cost seventy dollars for a six week class, however, anyone who signs up and pays before January 10th will receive a ten dollar discount.

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My Year in Review: The Good AND the Bad.

I did one of the Facebook “year in review” apps… you know the one. They take your most liked pictures or something and paste them all together and call it your year in review. I have to admit, looking at my gathered pictures from the past year, it looked as if I had had a pretty amazing year. And let’s face it. I *did* have a pretty amazing year.

I juggled grad school, writing, sitting on the board of the Golden Crown Literary Society, and teaching online self-love classes with my own self care, taking care of my beloved pets, being present as a friend, and still sometimes remembering to call my mother. I took over co-managing the Writing Academy and have spent a great deal of time and energy working to ensure it all runs smoothly and the students get the most out of it they can.

I started the New Year with a New Year’s Eve dance. I snow shoed. I biked. I went to farmer’s markets. I hiked. I went to the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival and felt all of the feelings, good and bad. I traveled to New Orleans. I ate a beignet for the first time in my life. I drank only the best coffee. I hugged. I touched. I kissed. I loved.

I came to the rescue of a friend in trouble. I gave my winter hat to a person in the cold. I paid for a senior citizen’s groceries. I donated money I didn’t have to a friend’s breast cancer campaign.

I experienced the joy, repeatedly, of having someone tell me that I had changed their life through my self-love classes and workshops. The ripple effect. They will go on to change other lives. My heart swells at the very thought.

I got straight As in every single class I took this year.

I did squat challenges and wall sits and stair step and plank.

I made the most amazing, colorful, veggie-filled meals and I made the leap from being a vegetarian to being vegan.

I spent a weekend in Traverse City.

I went to Chicago for a party with several hundred amazing women. I won a ticket to fest there and got to go up on stage and say a few words about what fest meant to me.

I danced. Oh, did I dance. I danced and danced. I abandoned all care of what the world may think of me and I danced. I danced because I love the way my body and soul feel when I’m dancing. I danced because it feels good to move my body to music. I danced.

I found some deeper connections and I found some connections aren’t meant to be that deep.

I explored my new community.

I was recently being interviewed about my writing on a lesbian fiction group and the host said, “I tried to find a picture of you that I could post on the page, but it is rare to find a picture of you alone. You’re always hugging someone.” That’s my year in review. I loved.

If you look at my Facebook, you’ll see the statuses and the pictures of a happy life.

But my friends, I want to talk to you about the stuff that doesn’t go on Facebook. Because for the most part, I only put the happy stuff on Facebook. And if you’re out there looking at my page and feeling depressed because your life isn’t a constant string of fun adventures… well, my lovers, neither is mine. And that goes for anyone’s Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, whatever. People are posting the good stuff because it’s fun to remember the good stuff. Those year in review posts are a great story but they are only part of the story.

Truly most of my stuff was good. Most of it was very, very good. But there were nights when I felt so wrapped in anxiety that my stomach hurt. There were days of feeling as if I had so much to do, I couldn’t do anything. A night when I woke up in a panic because I couldn’t feel anything and I called my friend and then my partner in the middle of the night because every time I tried to go back to sleep I felt as if waves of panic were washing over me. There were times when my house got so messy, I was embarrassed when people came over. I cried. I grieved. I sometimes ate my feelings and felt sick after.  I asked my partner to be there for me for something and she wasn’t and we argued.

I yelled at my dog. I stepped in cat puke. I had a migraine so bad that I thought I was dying and texted two of my closest friends to come check on me to see if I needed to go to the hospital.

One of the things I often hear in the self love classes is that women feel they aren’t measuring up. They feel that they’re somehow doing this whole “life” thing a whole lot worse than everyone else.

First of all, remember this. Comparison is a form of self harm. Don’t compare yourself to your sister, your neighbor, your best friend, that woman from the gym. You are your own unique individual and only you know what you are capable of. What they do doesn’t matter. It only matters what YOU do, what YOU want, what YOU dream. Your self care is important. Your heart is important.

Secondly, it helps to know that we never know what is really going on in a person’s life. We don’t know if that person who just posted the meme about positive thinking is doing so because she’s trying to lift herself out of depression. We don’t know if someone has just lost a partner, a child, a pet, a friend. We don’t know if her boss screamed at her that day at work, and she bled through her favorite pants, and she got a ticket because the meter expired, and she came home and ate macaroni and cheese straight out of the pot. We don’t know it because most likely, she posted a picture of herself on a boat in St. Maartens and you’re looking at it from your home thinking that you wish you were her.

This, then, is the upshot of my year in review. Focus on yourself. Work on what you can do to make your own life closer to what you want it to be. Enjoy your friends’ posts but remember, they have struggles, too. We all do. You aren’t alone.

 

Happy New Year.

 

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Why I Love my Fat Body – And Why You Should, Too.

Whenever I see pictures of fat women (almost exclusively women) posted online, I inevitably see a bunch of comments about how sickening it is to glorify fat because it is so unhealthy. Bodies come in all degrees of health. There are skinny unhealthy people and fat healthy people and everything in between. If you are using the illogical fallacy of fat being unhealthy to fuel your hatred, you might as well go onto a page of people with heart disease and spout off about how ugly their chest scars are. At any rate, if you’re the kind of person who goes to the comments on posts like that just so you can talk about how unhealthy fat people are, please stop reading this post. You are too stupid to grasp any of what I have to say after this.

I’ve spent a lot of years overcoming the sad effects of a society that punishes people for being fat. There are those who think they mean well such as the “you have such a beautiful face” crowd and the well-meaning mother who struggles with her own self-esteem and pushed new diets on me from the age of twelve. There was the time my sister, also a victim of the bias against fat women, told me that I better lose weight before high school because if I wanted to be in the marching band, I was going to have to get changed in front of everyone else in the band. In fourth grade, we had class weigh ins right in front of the whole class and everyone tried to see what mine said. Throughout middle school and high school, other kids oinked or mooed at me on a regular basis. Once, when jogging, a man actually slowed down his pickup truck to yell, “Don’t break the pavement, fatty” as I ran by. I walked home and didn’t run again for many long years. I absorbed every comment, every snide remark, every well-meaning, but still cutting aside.

As an adult, I set about trying to comes to terms with my fat body, even while putting it through the hell of every diet I could find. I ate nothing but grapefruit. I did the cabbage soup diet. Once, I lost sixty pounds and bought clothes in the “normal” stores and still thought I was ridiculously fat. And ugly. I equated fat with ugly back then. I joined a group of women who purported to be about size acceptance but really consisted of a lot of sad women sitting around talking about how much it sucked to be fat.

I had relationships in my twenties, but I attributed that to people who just fell in love with my personality and put up with the fact that I was fat. In essence, I didn’t love myself, so it didn’t occur to me that someone else could love me just as I was. Of course, because of that, I drew people who didn’t love and embrace me the way that I was. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Fast forward to the age of 38 when I, though a positive and loving woman, was not doing well. I was in a long term relationship with someone who did not celebrate me. I was a two pack a day smoker. I was a daydreamer, but not a doer. I had moved to a beautiful Caribbean island and I loved a lot of things about my life there, but I wasn’t treating myself with respect and care.

One day, I decided that had to change. I was tired of hating my body. I was tired of being afraid of what people had to say about me. I was tired about not going to Zumba classes or refusing to go for a swim because of the way certain people looked at me.

It was a slow process. I started by quitting drinking. Then I quit smoking. I started hiking with my soul friend, Aj. We took huge hikes up the sides of gigantic hills that I thought might kill me. I knew it was the best way to keep from going back to smoking. I started meditating. I became a vegetarian. Eventually, I left that dead end relationship and moved back to the states.

And something amazing happened. I grew to love myself. I didn’t just love myself in spite of my fat body. I loved myself AND my fat body. I went to the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival where I saw women of every shape and size and age and color and ability laughing and loving and dancing and celebrating themselves and me. I fell in love with my own breasts, the weight of them, the way they felt when I lifted them in my hands. I grew to love touching the soft skin of my stomach. I admired the strong and fat curves of my butt. I expressed gratitude for my big thighs that have carried me this far in my wonderful journey. I made love with womyn with the lights on. I refused to be with someone who didn’t love my body the way it was. I set my boundaries and my boundaries involved only being involved with womyn who celebrated and cherished me. And since I’m not a hypocrite, I applied that same rule to myself. I celebrated and cherished myself.

Then something even more amazing happened. I realized I wasn’t just talking about it. I was living it. I celebrated women of all shapes and sizes. I didn’t feel defensive around women with thin bodies or athletic bodies. I didn’t equate skinny with beautiful and I didn’t equate fat with ugly. I started to see through the patriarchal bullshit that insists women be in competition with each other. I started to call out instances of fat shaming, or any kind of shaming of women for their bodies. I stopped watching anything to do with celebrities and I refused to look at fashion magazines and I realized that I have gotten out of the Matrix. That all of those people who think that they have the right to tell women what they should do with their bodies are poisoned in their minds. They’re sick. They are the unhealthy ones. The people who yell “fatty” at a jogger or sneer at a fat person in an exercise class or peer into someone’s cart at the grocery store to see what kind of food they’re buying or purposely go to a page about fat acceptance to leave idiotic comments about fat being gross and unhealthy or lift their eyebrows when they see a woman with hairy legs or write off older women as useless or refuse to see any woman who falls outside of the standard societal expectation of pretty as just that. They are the sick ones. They’re what’s wrong with this society. Those people who feel they somehow have a right to hate someone based on the way they look.They’re hurting our society and they need help.

My journey continued until I was not only loving myself the way I am, but teaching other women how to do the same. Women who have felt too old, too skinny, too muscled, too fat, too wrinkled, too scarred. Women who, like me, have been told that they are not enough the way they are. Women who wore the negative opinions of this sick society.

I learned that I’m beautiful. More importantly, I learned that I am worthy of love and happiness and respect and desire. I learned that I am a woman in every true sense of the word and anyone who can’t understand that isn’t worth my time.

Finally, today was the culmination of all of my self love work. I’ve been telling women of every size and shape that they are beautiful for years. Today when I opened a link to look at the pictures of Leonard Nimoy’s fat nudes and I realized that I thought every single one of them was incredibly fucking beautiful. I felt it down to my very soul. These women were divine and miraculous and beautiful and worthy.I’m not sick anymore. I’m not warped by this sick society. I’ve won. I’m healed. You can be, too.

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Women Learning to Value Themselves

A couple of years ago, I saw a woman at the grocery store who just embodied funky and cool. She was wearing what looked like a homemade crochet skirt and a vest and red cowboy boots. She had such a fun style, I had to stop and tell her that I thought she looked awesome. She looked back at me and said, “Are you making fun of me?”

Fast forward a couple of months…. I was doing a guided meditation with a group of women, most of whom were survivors of rape, sexual assault, abuse. At the end of the meditation, I asked them what came up for them in the meditation and the majority of them said things such as, “I was worried my stomach was growling and everyone could hear it,” or “I’m sure my nose was running and I was sniffing loudly the whole time.”

Fast forward…I was giving a live workshop on creating self love and I asked the women to raise their hands if they believed that if they showed their true selves to their loved ones, those loved ones would no longer want to be with them.

Fast forward… Just last week a woman on FB posted a meme about the electric carts at grocery stores being for the elderly and disabled not for “your fat ass.”

Why are women self-conscious? Why do they devalue themselves? And why do they feel a need to judge and mock other women for their appearances? I think it all stems from the societal idea that we are not enough. We aren’t good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, thin enough. We’re told we need to conform to certain impossible standards of conventional beauty. We’re told that our houses should be clean and our kids should be model citizens and we can get out into the workplace, but not too far into it. We’re taught that girls shouldn’t be loud and that being dirty is wrong. We’re taught that whatever way we are doing it is wrong. We hate it when people judge us, but then we turn around and do it to other women. Think about it. Have you ever said, “She shouldn’t be wearing that outfit at her size?” Have you ever said, “Women shouldn’t wear (X) after fifty?” If so, you’re doing it, too. You’re helping to put women into the prison of not being able to be themselves.

Self-love is an act of rebellion. In this world, a woman who loves and values herself is a radical. The very act of saying, “I won’t allow you to talk to me that way” is an incitement for war in some people’s minds. That’s what I teach. My self love classes and workshops are about teaching women to value themselves so they no longer judge themselves by someone else’s measure. My mission in life is to empower other women so they themselves can go on to empower other women.

Come with me on a journey to lessen anxiety, stop negative self-talk, deal with toxic people, set your own boundaries, and learn to live in joy. bethburnett70@yahoo.com

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Creating Self-Love

You are the creator of your life. Do I need to repeat that? YOU are the creator of your life. I know sometimes you have anxiety. I know you find yourself getting frustrated. I know you might hate your job or argue incessantly with your spouse. I’ve been giving online and live class in self love for several years and the one thing I’ve learned through talking to hundreds of women is that so many of us, in one way or another, think that we aren’t good enough.

My six week online course in creating self-love, increasing self-confidence, and learning to living a life of joy is designed to give women the foundation they need to overcome a lifetime of social conditioning and emerge as strong, empowered women who value themselves and recognize their own self-worth. I help women start to overcome anxiety, panic, doubt, fear, social pressure. These classes include a once a week live class in which I offer participants information and journal exercises and the chance to share their own experiences. The classes do include some homework. Participation in the homework is optional, but the program does have a greater chance of success if the participants give it their all.

Email me at bethburnett70@yahoo.com and I will send a guide to pricing and individual class subjects. The next Monday class is full, but I have space available on Tuesdays, 8 PM EST starting on March 17th.

My live workshops are a modified version of the online class meant to offer women the same foundation in a group setting. I offer workshops in my home or in your home. Email me for details.

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Self Love Classes

My online six week self love classes are a hit. Women are empowering themselves, with my help, to greater self love, confidence, and strength to live on their own terms. I had one woman tell me she quit smoking because of the class. Another told me that she was sure she would never find love again because of her own low sense of self worth. Yet, she was able to open herself up and find a lover who values who beautiful heart. Many women have been able to reduce their problems with daily anxiety or senses of shame. These classes are about recognizing our value and reclaiming our own power.

If you are interested in taking one of these classes please email me at bethburnett70@yahoo.com I am full right now, but will be starting new classes soon.

I also give in person workshops, both in my house, and by request of a group.

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Excerpt from The Love Sucks Club

 

A car pulls up next to me and I look in the window. Esmé. Nodding to her, I keep walking. She pulls abreast of me again and sticks her head out the window.

“Where are you going?”

“Not far enough to need a ride.”

“Come on.” She laughs. “Don’t be scared. I don’t bite.”

“I’m not scared,” I mutter. Coming around to the passenger side, I let myself in and slide down in the seat. It’s a decent enough car, but small. What is it with these women driving these tiny cars? “You’re going to have to be careful on these roads,” I say. “The potholes have been known to swallow buffalo whole.”

“I didn’t realize there were buffalo on the island,” she grins.

“There aren’t. They were eaten by the potholes.”

I direct her to The Sands and fall silent, staring out the window. I can feel her glancing at me from time to time, but I pretend not to notice. Finally, she breaks the silence.

“So, do you want to talk about your dreams?”

“Nope.”

“About Fran?”

“Not a chance.”

“The price of tea in China?”

“I know nothing of economics.”

“What made you become a novelist?”

“I sat down and wrote.”

“Wow, you would make a fascinating subject for a talk show.”

“I’m a fascinating woman,” I say, dryly.

She chuckles a bit and stares out the windshield for a couple of minutes. “You know, I loved Fran, too.”

“I don’t know you.” This woman is presuming a lot. “I don’t know anything about you. How do I know you even know Fran?”

“I know she used to laugh in her sleep. I know she had a tattoo of a butterfly on her left breast. I know that she thought orange cats were the best animal in the world.”

“You could have gotten that from my book,” I grumble.

“I know she used to stare at the stars and talk about whether or not her family was ever going to come back for her.”

Pausing, I stare out the window. That part wasn’t in the book, and as far as I know, no one except me knew that Fran thought she was from another planet. I can feel my ears start to buzz and I’m sure an attack is imminent. Blinking hard, I try to talk myself out of it.

“So, Esmé,” I say loudly to combat the buzz. “What made you move to the Caribbean from Chicago?”

“There wasn’t anything left for me there. My lover left me for another woman. We’d been together for seven years. I think she was my rebound from Fran.”

“How long were you and Fran together?” I ask, though I’m not sure I want the answer.

“Ten years.”

I look at her, not sure I can believe that she’s old enough to have had at least seventeen years worth of relationships. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“So you and Fran were pretty young.”

“We were pretty young.”

She pulls up in front of The Sands and stops the car. “Are you going in for lunch?”

“No, I’m just going to get a ride home from Sam.”

“I can take you home.”

“Not in this car, you can’t.”

Standing outside of the front door of the hotel, I watch her drive away. She glances back once and I slowly raise my hand. My ears are still buzzing, so I sit down in the lobby and ask the front desk clerk to page Sam. The tunnel comes down over my sight and I can see Esmé and Fran, young and troubled, clinging to each other, both of them with tears in their eyes. I don’t know whether it’s a vision or my imagination, but I’m drawn to Fran’s young face, her light brown eyes and her pale skin. The shock of red hair, curly and full, was just as beautiful in this vision as it was years later when she came into my life. The vision darkens and for a second, all I can see is Esmé. I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, looking back at her. Her face is deathly white and there is a trickle of blood coming out of her mouth. As I slowly become aware that Sam is holding my shoulders and shaking me gently, the tunnel lifts from my sight. Sam’s face, full of love and concern is inches from mine.

 

 

 

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Taking a Leap

inner peaceI logged on to write a blog today and was notified that it is my two year anniversary with Word Press. This has been a roller coaster of a two years for me. In February of 2012, I moved back to the states from the Virgin Islands and ended an almost ten year long relationship that had become quite toxic toward the end. I published my first novel. I started a journey toward becoming the best me I could be and, concurrently, loving myself exactly as I am. I published two more novels. I had two short term, but quite healing and lovely in many ways, love relationships. I went to the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival twice. (See my blog on that if you are interested in learning about this amazing festival for women.) This one.

I wrote a blog about Christians and gays that pretty much went viral and was read in church by at least three preachers of varying sorts. (Edited for language, I believe. I’m pretty sure I used the word “asshole” too many times for most parishioners to be comfortable.) I lived off of my royalties. I lived in a camper in the woods. I lived in a lake house. I lived in a farm town in Iowa. I moved wherever and whenever I wanted. I traveled to Memphis and Phoenix and Palm Springs and Dallas. I went to literary conferences. I met a few soul mate friends. I set up learning about this Beth person without artifice. I made a pact to live an authentic life. I danced, I flirted, I made love, I fought, I got angry. I tried to take every chance I had at learning more about myself, why I react the way I do, and how to react differently if necessary. I put a “Namaste” sticker on the back of my car and then laughed at the irony of flipping someone off through the sunroof because they were tailing me on the freeway. I became a vegetarian. I stopped being a vegetarian. I became a vegetarian again. I went on a spiritual retreat. I grew confident.. I laughed at myself. I laughed at life. I laughed with joy. I laughed until tears ran down my face and I couldn’t breathe. I learned to love me.Truly love me.

The end result of this is that I am now the kind of person who believes that if something is calling to my soul, I should make every effort to do it.

The other day, a friend of mine suggested making a grocery list of things that call to my soul and see how that panned out as far as making a living. Well, really, what I want to do is write, talk to readers, meet other authors, do book readings, and go to literary conferences. Oh, and I want to just spread joy and love and happiness to everyone I can. I mean, why *can’t*  make a living spreading joy and happiness and love to people? To that end, I am leaving my day job and focusing on marketing my books, writing more, teaching classes on writing, and giving workshops that help women come to the same self-love that I now possess. I want them to learn to value themselves.

It’s authentic. It’s what calls to my soul. It brings me joy. I may not be able to make a living at it yet, but I don’t care. I don’t belong in  a cubicle wearing business casual, punching someone else’s time clock. I belong out in the world, spreading love and happiness. That’s why my books are happy… and it’s why I’m happy. Now, I am going to work at bringing that happiness and peace to others.

It’s a leap, but then, I like to live on the edge. I’d rather fail at something a million times than to not have tried it because I was afraid.

In the meantime, you can help by buying my awesome new book, “The Love Sucks Club” which isn’t really about love sucking after all.

http://www.amazon.com/Love-Sucks-Club-Beth-Burnett-ebook/dp/B00JDIC4TA/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1398621174&sr=1-1

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Sometimes Things Suck – And That’s Okay.

love sucks club coverIn honor of my new release, “The Love Sucks Club,” I’m writing today about things that suck. As any of my friends and blog readers can tell you, I am a proponent of living in joy and making life something to be loved. That said, sometimes things just suck. Sometimes, you’re in a sucky relationship or your job sucks or your financial situation sucks. That morning you slept late, stepped full on into cat puke, got a flat tire, and then got to work late only to get yelled at by your boss? That sucked. When you discovered your ex was cheating on you? That sucked? When your kid hit puberty and started yelling about how much she hates you and everything you stand for? Yeah, that really sucked.

For me, right now, my job sucks. I mean, it just sucks. I’m not even going to list the myriad ways in which it sucks. Just take my word for it. It sucks.

Sometimes things just suck. And sometimes, that’s okay. When things suck, we can wallow in the suckiness for only so long before we start to realize that we are going to have to make a change. I’ve been guilty of staying in a relationship for too long because I was afraid of the change. In hindsight, though, it was the best thing I ever did for myself. Leaving that relationship prompted me to sprout my own wings and challenge myself to live my own life.

I once smoked. I smoked for 22 years and at the end of it, I was smoking almost two packs a day. I couldn’t breathe. Really. I woke up every single night, several times a night with my hand pressed against my chest, trying desperately to take in some air. It sucked. It sucked so bad that one day I decided that not breathing was worse than the pain and difficulty of quitting and I stopped.

So my job sucks. And that’s okay. I’ve been kind of drifting along complacently, writing, and playing on Facebook, and half-heartedly marketing my books. I’m not very good at marketing, is what I kept telling myself. (That takes us right back into negative self-talk and self doubt, which are other demons to conquer, but that’s another story.) So I drifted and I lived an amazing life of travelling and hanging out with my friends and moving around and doing whatever I wanted to do whenever I wanted to do it. And then, the royalties started to dwindle and it came time for me to get a “job.” Which leads me to where I am now… in a job that sucks.

Here’s the part where I can reframe my perspective and find gratitude for the suckiness. You see, being in a cubicle in a job I hate is so far removed from who I am that I can’t stay there any longer than is absolutely necessary. And here’s where it gets kind of fun. Hating my job has led me to being way more active in self-promotion and working toward my dreams. I’ve recently written an eight week class on Creative Journaling for Inner Peace and Self-love that I intend to teach at the local Unitarian Church. I have made contact with several local news sources, one of which actually responded with a request for book copies for reviews, and an interview for a story. Through that contact, I met a screenwriter who wants to read my first novel and talk about the movie options. And for the first time, I ordered books myself from my publisher with the intention of getting them out there to be read and reviewed. I ordered a video promo of “The Love Sucks Club” that I will put on YouTube. And I am making a video recording of me reading a funny scene from “Man Enough.” Some of this stuff may lead somewhere and some of it may not, but the important thing is that I am getting out there and working for myself.

Would I have done all of this if I wasn’t wanting so desperately to get out of my job? I doubt it. I had plenty of opportunity before, and I didn’t. So, sometimes suckiness really is awesomeness in disguise.

My friend Yvonne is fond of telling me that I should do just one thing every single day that is a step toward my goals. One thing. Her thought is that as long as you do that one thing, no matter what it is, you have made positive progress toward living your dreams. She’s right. One little step every single day still means I am moving forward. And moving forward means moving out of suckiness and into awesomeness, which quite frankly, is where I belong.

To commemorate the birth of my newest novel and the embracing of suckiness in all of our lives, I am giving away a copy of “The Love Sucks Club” to one random person who leaves a comment on this blog.

 

http://www.amazon.com/Love-Sucks-Club-Beth-Burnett-ebook/dp/B00JDIC4TA/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=8-1&qid=1397275191

EDITED: The winner of the book giveaway was Lisa Hurt. Thank you everyone who stopped by to play. And Lisa, let’s chat so I can get your information to send you a book.

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