I move at a fast pace. I talk fast, I turn fast, I walk fast and yes it truly bothers me when someone strolls two steps behind me. It. Is. So. Annoying.
But this past year as I overly expressed myself- okay basically screamed from the rooftops LISTEN TO ME! NOTICE ME! GO AS FAST LIKE ME!- I started to see the pattern of me insisting that other people listen to me. Follow my advice.
Why the frick' am I doing that when I can't help myself? I'll tell ya why. Cuz it's easier for me to focus on other people rather than myself.
Here we go.
I cannot convince you that you will be unbelievably changed by having the guts to take a dance fitness class that will push your mind and body all because you can't stand to make an ass out of yourself.
I cannot convince you that the economy is changing and there will be no job left for you because you've moved yourself out of the market.
I cannot convince you that your company should be curating your own content on the internet and you should be learning all about the new marketing efforts that a competing smaller company is doing and eventually will land them ahead of the game and not you.
I will not tell you that same thing goes for singers. Painters. Comedians. Sales people.
I will not tell you that you should break the rules first and ask for forgiveness later.
But I'm telling you that okay? Old norms don't matter.
But I'm not telling you that, remember? (I say while slapping myself in the face).
Alright alright, I get what you're thinking-and now here are the other things I am not telling you.
I cannot convince you that standing right there in front of you is a mentor that will rapidly accelerate your life into something you've been complaining about for years and you simply need to ask this future mentor to help you.
I cannot convince you that it's important to set parental controls on your kids phone because you'd rather have know idea what your child is doing and you may regret it in the future. But I will tell you my child is not going to hang with yours as much.
I cannot convince you that you should take your child's phone out of the bedroom at night because indeed they are sending me an email at 2 am.
I cannot convince you that the reason you're not in a relationship is because you're not spending time listening, like ever-ever, and people want to talk about themselves. I mean work the system, my god.
I know. I can be bitchy.
The truth is I really do think about those sort of things. It's maddening. How about we brand me Mean Molly? MM for short.
Except now...I'm stopping. As in- Full. Stop.
Because I have realized this past year that I should stay out of your mother f'n frickin' flippin' beeeeeeeezzzzzzz-wax.
Here's the truth that I've stumbled upon in this my gigantic year of a 41 year old mid-life crisis.
PEOPLE DON'T WANT TO BE PUSHED INTO OPPORTUNITIES. They need to discover them on their own.
This. Is. So. Annoying. To. Me. It would be so much faster if they allowed the help. But stop. STOP.
Who am I to judge? It has taken me 20+ years to get to this part of my life. AND I'M NO LONGER GETTING PAID FOR THE BULK OF MY WORK.
And guess what?
I am happier.
Yes, for f*cks sake, I am worried. I am terrified, each day and everyday that this grand experiment of writing at home, simplifying, trying not to die early, trying like hell to be authentic without pissing people off, is going to result in...well, nothing. It looms over me, crushing my spirit. Especially at the end of a long day. Especially at night.
I would wake up over it in the middle of the night, except I'm currently on Ambien for this crazy thing called bipolar 2 that has roared into my life like a mack truck. And after not sleeping for almost a decade, I look forward to taking drugs each night so I can get the shi*t out of my head that plays on repeat during the day. It's bliss.
And yet I continue on like a brave little soldier. I'm a BLS you guys.
BUT, I will no longer tell you what you should do. I WILL tell you what I would do. How I've done it. How I've struggled against it. How I've pushed through it. How I'm embarrassed.
Because I could be wrong about you.
Or, maybe I'm right about you? But you're on your own path. I get it now.
Enough said. You go be you boo. I'll be over here being me and the truth will set us free.
But I'm not telling you that.