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Uncovering Your Brilliance

posted 2nd May 2011    Written by: Amanda    CATEGORY: Amanda, Inspiration, Season 4, Stratejoy the Biz

The road was reckless, strewn with vehicles driving at break-neck speeds and an unknown police presence that made me feel entirely uncomfortable. As I drifted down this concrete jungle highway, determined to arrive on time to what was certain to be an evening of excellent company and enlightening conversation, I was suddenly aware that this was the first road-trip I’d taken (via car and on my own) since October 2010.

Y’know, when I got pregnant.

I was glad that I rented a car, instead of opting for the five and a half hour Greyhound trip.

The highway loomed. The cars hissed past. I narrowed my eyes against the setting sun and clenched my fingers tightly on the steering wheel. Ain’t no way I was going to miss this opportunity.

Finally, my exit. I gently pulled off the highway and breathed deeply; thank goodness that leg of the journey was over. Getting from the I-5 to my downtown destination, however, was proving to be much more arduous than I originally anticipated.

Meaning… I was probably going to be late.

Damn it.

After scouting the area for something resembling a good parking spot (one that wouldn’t require cash money, because I’d forgotten to get American cash before I left the country earlier that day), I finally made my way to the Brilliant Women Salon. About damn time, too, because mama (and ZomBaby) are hungry.

If you’ve ever met Molly in person, you know that the woman you know online precisely matches the woman you meet in person. Upon my (almost) late arrival to the event, she wrapped her arms around me and gushed about how happy she was that I was there. And truly? I was so absolutely overwhelmed with joy, I almost cried.

Yeah yeah, we can only blame the pregnancy hormones so much. I’m a sap. There, I said it.

Tara Mohr is everything you think she’s going to be: wise, articulate, and positively radiates warmth. Within moments of meeting her, I felt this incredible connection to her own brand of brilliance. I felt at home. Deeply comforted. Connecting with Amy Kessel – earthy mama and beautiful soul — was a treat. We talked about babies and my pregnancy as the women practically poured in the doors.

To be surrounded by that much awesome was, well, awesome.

The night was dedicated to uncovering brilliance within ourselves and helping each other to articulate what brilliance was within each of us. Tara Mohr’s 10 Rules for Brilliant Women (if you haven’t read this, please do) inspired the event and as we divided into our various groups, it was clear that there was a lot of other ideas about what owning one’s brilliance looked like.

As the groups shared their stories about brilliance, I saw that there was a lot of doubt. Hell, I had a lot of it initially, too. I love to coax introverts out of their shells and get them to open up about their inward awesomeness. Call it my own special brand of brilliance. It’s why my best friends are introverts when I’m this crazy, wild extrovert.

I see shy people and have this incredible urge to love them right-the-hell up.

Within our little group, we talked about what made each of us brilliant, with the help of the supremely excellent Lynn Baldwin-Rhoades of Power Chicks International. As we went around the circle, these incredible stories unfolded, full of courage, inner strength, and fearlessness. Truth? I was more than a little blown away.

Brilliance is a hard thing to inwardly appreciate. There are things that we each do everyday that make us brilliant in one way, shape, or form (usually more than one, honestly). But we’re so busy comparing ourselves to other forms of brilliance within other people that we can’t seem to grasp it in ourselves. Or, if we do grasp it, we’re quick to dismiss it.

After attending the Brilliant Women Salon, I felt more connected to the concept of “brilliance”. I often feel this intense need to downplay what I do (and who I am) because I’m afraid that I’ll come across as crass and rude. There’s something distasteful (especially to we chicks) about tooting one’s horn. But brilliance? Oh baby, brilliance is one of those things that you simply have to own. We are ALL brilliant.

My three rules for uncovering (and owning) brilliance:

I’d love to know what your rules are for uncovering and owning your brilliance are.

[Note from Coach Molly: Amanda- I almost cried with joy getting to meet you too!  But it was funny how normal it felt as well, like I'd already know you for years...  So honored you made the trip and really happy we got sleepover, and long walk, and breakfast out time too. p.s.  Thanks Mike for "letting" your adorably preggo wife venture across the border! xoxo

And dear readers, sorry our schedule is all batty!  With Launch Week of both The Council and Joy Juice, it's crazytownz around here!   I'm commandeering Thursday's post, so just roll with us, mkay? And speaking of Joy Juice... Here's a tasty sneak peek of what's coming!]




Image found via ImageSpark.

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Fail On, You Crazy Diamond

posted 1st March 2011    Written by: Amanda    CATEGORY: All Posts, Amanda, Inspiration, Life Lesson, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 4

Vulnerability is something I’ve been thinking a lot about lately; all its many facets and why we simultaneously preach vulnerability while seeking to escape it. After reading Katharine’s post on her battle with depression (along with Laura’s look at vulnerability as her tipping point and Bri’s discussion of loneliness), I deeply considered why we — the season four writers — are here: to share our stories, to be transparent, and to be vulnerable.

Today, I sat back at a local Starbucks and contemplated vulnerability while I probed TED for answers. And, as it turned out, there was a relatively recent talk that was given by Brene Brown on “The Power of Vulnerability”. Brene’s insight into vulnerability is incredible. Highly recommend you give it a watch.

One of my goals during the time that I’m here with you is to learn to express that vulnerability without feeling shame or fear or disgust at myself and/or, ofttimes, certain situations that I’ve found myself in; to embrace failure without succumbing to its tendrils of terror. To give myself permission to fail on.

Unperfecting a Perfectionist

As a teenager, I was a perfectionist.

I strove to be smarter, faster, and better than my peers. I studied hard. I played on many sports teams. I was an actor, director, and vocal coach. I sang and played musical instruments. I taught myself how to code. I took on so many different aspects of my growing self that I didn’t know where my extracurriculars began and I ended.

“We live in a vulnerable world and one of the ways we deal with it is by numbing it.” – Brene Brown

My version of numb — even today — is to bury myself in work; to actively avoid the situation by finding something else to think about and something else to do. With the array of possibilities available to us on a daily basis, it’s easy to find something else to do instead of dealing with our pain: play video games, watch TV, get drunk, or eat that chocolate cake in the fridge (all of it).

When I dealt with the monotony and malaise of starting up my own business (while simultaneously trying to figure who the hell I was trying to be), I dove into a different project instead of nourishing myself (and the business). And, in the process, I shut myself off from everything (and everyone) else. I lost sight of my joy. I lost sight of myself.

“You cannot selectively numb emotion. You cannot selectively numb the hard feelings without numbing the rest.” – Brene Brown

I crawled back inside and stayed there. It wasn’t until I found out this entirely new vulnerability of pregnancy that I finally woke up from my emotional coma. I’m still blinking back the comatose-zombie from behind my eyes at this point… but I’m awake. And instead of cutting out the bad emotions, the hard emotions, I’m learning to live with them.

We are emotional creatures and when we hide from ourselves, we cut ourselves off from joy.

We cut ourselves off from the chance of living authentically and genuinely.

We create half-selves. We become shells. We embrace numb, just so we won’t be scared.

But what if we lived in concert with our fear?

What if we just showed up, did our thang, and let that be that? What if we gave fear a high-five every time it kept us from doing something stupid? A la, don’t jaywalk across Granville Street during rush-hour or you’ll get hit by a bus (or three). And, what if we hugged vulnerability to our chests and thanked it for being honest?

It takes courage (read: balls) and compassion to remain connected to ourselves and to each other. It’s not weakness to say, “Hey, I need you” or “Y’know what? I love you, damn it.” It’s required for us to move past our own insecurities and move into a place of connectivity and strength.

The most difficult part of a millennial’s journey — ahem, my journey — into adulthood is learning to embrace failure, fear, and vulnerability for the inevitabilities they are instead of seeking numbness. It’s not something that we’re taught as children. Teachers don’t come up to us and say, “Y’know what, Amanda? It’s okay to fail. It’s okay to be afraid.” No, what we’re taught is to suck it up, deal with the problem, and move on.

No grieving.

No questions.

Just go.

I say: fuck that.

You are more than just the sum of your accomplishments. You are more than your Ivy League university or your diploma or your business. You are a culmination of beautiful imperfections and we need to learn to embrace ourselves because of that fact, not in spite of it.

“When we work from a place that says, “I’m enough”, we stop screaming and start listening. We’re kinder and gentler to the people around us and we’re kinder and gentler to ourselves.” – Brene Brown

I’m learning to be gentle with myself by remembering that I am enough. As we journey together through the trials of the QLC — our millennial rite of passage — just remember: be kind to yourself; be gentle with others; and learn to live with your inevitabilities of fear, failure, and vulnerability.

You are enough.

Photo found via Insane Metal on Tumblr

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The End

posted 28th January 2011    Written by: Alisha    CATEGORY: Alisha, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 3, What I've Learned

Really?  This is it?  This is my last post for Stratejoy?  I think I might cry.

These past six months have been incredible–life changing, actually.  I am so grateful for the amazing women I have connected with during my time here.  Doni, Marian, Renee, Nikki, and Lindsey are going places, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to have been a witness to their journey.  I am grateful for Molly and the work that she does.  She’s the real deal y’all.  The older sister I wish I had: authentic, warm, uplifting and now one of my most favorite people on Earth.  If it weren’t for her, Stratejoy, my trusty old Joy Plan, and these ladies, I am quite certain the end of 2010 and the beginning of 2011 would not have rocked so hard.

I learned so much about myself.  Thanks to the Joy Equation, I feel empowered.  I finally figured out what it is that I truly value in life.  I reached limits and set boundaries.  I learned (am still learning) that it’s okay to not be perfect and that my imperfections are actually what make me beautiful.  I found comfort in solidarity.  And I’ve said this before, but for someone who lives with depression, one of the most important aides in my healing is knowing that I am not alone.  Now, I am stronger.  I know that this quarterlife crisis is manageable.  I will live through it.  I am living through it.  You will live through it.

I have been able to share with you stories that I’ve never even told my best of friends.  (Amazing how the internet can help you open up and expand, isn’t it?)  And because of that my soul is lighter.  My very first post, which is probably my favorite, was a painful story that I had been trying to tell for years.  I had no idea how much that story dragged me down–kept me stuck–until I told it.  Thankfully, your kind words help me heal and move on.

So to the ladies of Season 4, I wish you much luck.  (Though with Molly and the other wonderful women you will meet through Stratejoy, you’ll be just fine.)  If I can offer any advice to you it would be to always be open and honest.  Never be afraid or embarrassed to share your stories.  Chances are there are others out there who will read it, and like me, breathe a sigh relief knowing that they aren’t the only ones.

But most importantly, have fun; connect with one another; connect with the Stratejoy community; make new friends; and enjoy the ride.

Thank you all for standing beside me, loving me, encouraging me, and inspiring me on this journey.  Until next time. . . .

[Note from the coach: You, gorgeous soul, you.  You don't even know how much I admire you- a young woman with a family who hasn't forgotten that she needs to fill herself up first- in order to be present, giving, and compassionate for those she loves.  I know it's not always easy and I know you feel like you've got so many more things you want to accomplish, create, be....  Believe me when I say this, Alisha, you are enough as you are.  And with that fierce self love that you've discovered, the extra sparkly bits will find their way in.

Thank you, thank you for being real.  I know all of us have appreciated your willingness to dive into the dark (and the light!) and to share it with us through such lovely, heart felt writing.  I appreciate you.  And adore you.  And cannot wait until we meet in person so I can cover you (and your kidlets) in kisses.  All the good in the world, with love,  Molly]

(photo credit)

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Love Is My Religion

posted 26th November 2010    Written by: Alisha    CATEGORY: Alisha, All Posts, Life Lesson, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 3, Spirituality, What I've Learned

I don’t know how to have this conversation without offending someone.  (Aren’t religion and politics like, the top two things you shouldn’t talk about if you want to keep your friends?) If this were my personal blog, it would be a different story.  But it’s not.  And though I take pride in telling my truth, my whole truth, and nothing but my truth, I’m afraid that this post will fall short.  And so this is what I have to give.

 

 

 

Love is my religion.  Compassion is my religion.  Connection, Openness, Tolerance, Graciousness are my religion.

 

I have faith that as long as I try my best to be loving to all in this life, then I will either:

1.  Become something other than a dung beetle in my next life

2.  Read peacefully in heaven

3. Die knowing I was a good person

I believe that the world is my church.  That the mountains are my altar, the ground is my pew and the raindrops are my angels.  And each of you sing in the choir.

(photo credit)

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Connecting and Healing

posted 5th November 2010    Written by: Alisha    CATEGORY: Alisha, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 3, What I've Learned

I’ve never had a home.  I have lived in 7 states and 14 cities.  I have lived in condos, apartments, townhomes and big suburban houses.  Yet, I have never felt like I had a home. Even now, as I settle into my third year in Chicago, it still does not feel like “home.”  So last year, what I set out to do, via the wonderful world wide web, was try to find my community.  I knew that if I could just create one, build one,  or simply find one, then maybe I would feel a little more settled–I would feel connected.

It is so easy to  get caught up in the minutea of our lives.  We allow ourselves to be so wrapped up that at times it feels as though you are the only one suffering.  Yet, that’s not true.  Through this experience with Stratejoy, I realized that although the details in each blog post are different, the themes are the same.  Ultimately, it is not My Story.  It is not Doniree’s Story.  It’s not Renee’s Story, or Lindsey’s Story, or Marian’s Story, or Nikki’s Story.  It is not Your Story.  It is Our Story.  It is the Human Story.  We are navigating through this life together.

One thing I have learned over the past few years is that the more I share my past, the more I release its power over me. I have many scars that bleed, but each time I recount a story–relive the injuries–a cut closes.  A wound heals.  I move on.  Each time I share a dream, the more vivid and attainable it becomes.  I become inspired.

While I have yet to figure out what I really want to do with my life–besides write–I know that whatever work I do must be centered around community, connection and healing.  Blogging for Molly and Stratejoy has given me that opportunity to do just that: find a community, connect and heal. When you read my words, we connect.  And as we connect with one another, I connect more with myself.  And it has helped me to heal.

(photo: free woman holding bunch of pink budded twigs by pink sherbet photography)

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