A few years ago, I felt awful… everything was crashing around me. Everything i had built and called good was failing… my relationship, job, investments, health, and finances. I felt so sorry for myself that I died mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. I gave meaning to the tragedies and convinced myself into victim-hood making myself sick, sad and whiny. And I couldn’t shake it. I’d lost my drive, spirit, ambition, and zest for life. I even felt like I was losing a grip on the only thing I felt I had which was the love from my child. Simply because I gave meaning to all that stuff. Like somehow, I was less of a person, mother, friend, daughter, cousin and human because I had failed.
That feeling is crippling…. and made up in my head.
How in the hell does failing lead to all that meaning?
I honestly still feel the emotional trepidation of taking a risk on myself. But as hard as that seems, it’s easier and less painful than suffering the pain of regret for the rest of my life. Annnnd it is actually less painful than suffering under a made up story that I conjured up in my imagination.
Life is way too short to suffer.
Thanks Brian D. Holifield. I heard you. Also, thanks Allie Shepherd for getting me in my heart today. u Heather Schwartz thank you Herbalife
#risk #love #inspire