Accountability

I made a career change last year, after realizing that the environment I was in was not suited for my personal growth.

I'm in Real Estate now. It's pretty awesome. I'm not functioning as an agent (although I am licensed!) - I am the Director of Operations for a company in Minneapolis.

I love it here. Not only for the fact that we get the opportunity to help people with their biggest transaction yet - that's an AMAZING feeling and I am so grateful for it! - but because I've never been a part of a community that is superbly hyper-focused on personal growth.

These people are stunning, ya'll. They're constantly working to be their best selves. We have an entire library dedicated to Ways To Be Awesome. There's John Maxwell, Brene Brown, Elon Musk, Tim Ferriss, Daniel Pink.. all of these amazing authors, each with insights that are taken to make ourselves the next-level person we want to be.

It's not a cult. It's just cool.

I'm currently reading Atomic Habits, and it's life-changing. I'm applying small changes in my everyday life to get me to who I want to be (namely, an organized working mother with a house in order -- not chaos).

Mute

A good friend of mine recently made a breakthrough with EMDR therapy. It’s left me thinking a lot about my own mental and emotional health – especially as we approach the six year mark.

I am not well. Not in a functional, well-adjusted way.

When I was in school, I played the cello. I loved it (albeit I hated practicing) – I loved being able to make music that moved my own soul. Saint-Saens, especially. There were numbers that we’d have to use mutes on – devices that handily clipped onto the bridge, between the G & D strings. Round disks that felt like rubber and helped control your volume. I wasn’t a fan – it made that luminous sound fall away into something ethereal and almost whiny. Mind you, it worked for that specific sound, but I loved plucking that disc off and really getting into a more primal melody.

I feel like my life is on mute. Some days I can feel the pinch of the mute on my skin – reminders that I am functioning, but not at my best. I read miracle stories and feel a pinch. A tear, singular, and a swollen throat are my only reaction for the moment. I re-frame my mindset, because my knee-jerk waterfall of jealousy feels so wrong. I tighten the mute, and move on.

However.

The mute keeps me muted from everything – not just the pain from seeing other happy six-year-olds and miracle situations. It keeps me from feeling that deep-set joy that I used to feel – I don’t get that exhilarated rush on the first beautiful day after a long winter. I recognize my life as it is and I am grateful – especially for my daughters. I acknowledge that they are my entire life and I would go full Game of Thrones to keep them safe.

But my laughter? It’s fake. My smiles don’t feel real.

I’ve lost my joy, trying to mute my pain.