Sharing Your Light & Joy with the World

2 years ago I was a wreck. I was waking up every day and sobbing, wishing I'd get in a car wreck on the way to work just so I could get a few hours of rest and not have to deal with my team or my clients.

2 years ago, I was so "successful" - I was newly married, with a nice income, nice things, nice title, nice life. But I was so EMPTY. I avoided thinking about why nothing felt as good as it should, so I doubled down on the success - worked harder, longer, and for what?

2 years ago, I was a person who lived for others' approval, my own ego and worked endlessly to stifle my biggest dreams with my own biggest fears (to protect myself, I said, from the inevitable suffering that is always waiting for me and anything I love).

Today, I board a plane for New Orleans for my first talk of 2018 and my 25th talk of my career - a career in public speaking that I always dreamed of but was too scared to admit was what I wanted to do, fearful of the critics who would roll their eyes and say it wasn't a "real job". They can pound sand, I don't care and I know different than them.

Today, I'm bringing my best friend along and after Wednesday's talk is done, we are tearing up the French Quarter together for a few days. Travel and being with the people I love inspire me every day and I no longer fear being not taken seriously just because I take my fun seriously.

Today, I pack my bags with nutrition thanks to my health coach so I can be strong and mentally sharp plus work on my weight loss goals. I used to think that admitting I was working on fitness and nurtition was admitting that I was a failure in the first place, but now I feel too good to care about any "failures" of my past.

Today, I pack my bag with a note from my husband so I can hear his words before I get up on that stage. "You are here to share your light and your joy with the world".

Today, I hope that if you're reading this, you're sharing your light and joy with the world, too. You deserve to love your life like this.

See you out on the road.
Love,
Rachel