On the eve of her 49th birthday, she lay in bed wondering what had happened to her drive and enthusiasm for life. The tears kept her awake, as did the heightened awareness that she wasn’t happy, her experience of life one of feeling trapped.
She lay awake for hours shocked by this realization.
Some time in the middle of the night, she whispered to herself that she would do whatever it took to feel better; to cause a breakthrough for herself. She was so very good at doing it for others, and it was time to turn that attention and care to her Self.
This was hard for her to admit, given that her work was all about helping people enjoy a greater experience of life. She’d been using all the techniques and tools she’d learned over the years, but nothing had made a lasting difference.
That was me, April 14, 2012.
I had entered my own personal hell.
A year passed, and I turned 50.
365 days had gone by since that dark night of the soul, and while I’d made some changes, things were still looking pretty bleak. So much so that I was actually considering therapy and/or drugs to help me get through this phase, which seemed to have become my life.
That’s when I asked myself one very important question: