Welcome to My Clear Life! For our first month together we will be exploring the meaning of Authenticity. And what better way to be authentic with you than to share my story of how I ended up on the road to a clearer life? I would love for you to share your stories with me as well, because - as Brene' Brown puts it, "We need the momentum and energy of a movement. We need to be surrounded by other authenticity activists who are willing to be imperfect and real. We need to build a community of people who can straddle the truth that we are both afraid and brave." Be bold and brave, take this walk through authenticity with me, and you'll be glad you did.
For this first post, I want to share with you the story of how my vacuum cleaner saved my life. Yes, you read that right - my vacuum cleaner. Saved. My. Life.
This story starts on an ordinary day. I was vacuuming my home in the same way I always did, when the vacuum hit me on the head.
Hard
. I was stunned. It felt like I had been betrayed by a dear friend, I just couldn't understand why my vacuum cleaner would attack me. And so I did what any normal person would do...I launched a counter attack.
Now, just to give you some background, the truth was that I had been taking advantage of my friend, the vacuum, for months, and I'm sure it was fed up with my blatant disregard for its feelings. I was using him (or was it her?) as an arsenal against the chaos in my mind. I was convinced that if I could keep the floors really clean, that the anxiety in my heart could be kept at bay. But, little did I know, my ally in the fight against change had another plan. It turns out the vacuum was neither a weapon nor a friend, but a hammer that was meant to shatter my self-created glass prison.
Let me explain, on the surface I looked and acted very normal - like I had it all together even. But I needed protection for my vulnerable heart, so I built invisible, but bullet proof glass walls around myself. I was a perfectionist teetering on the border of full blown OCD, so it made sense to craft my protective walls out of glass. It was a win-win, I could be protected and yet appear unflawed by secretly keeping people at a distance. Genius right?
Let me explain, on the surface I looked and acted very normal - like I had it all together even. But I needed protection for my vulnerable heart, so I built invisible, but bullet proof glass walls around myself. I was a perfectionist teetering on the border of full blown OCD, so it made sense to craft my protective walls out of glass. It was a win-win, I could be protected and yet appear unflawed by secretly keeping people at a distance. Genius right?
Well, I thought so - and it worked for me. Until I fell in love. When I married my husband I truly (and naively) believed I would be automatically set free from this confinement. That the walls I had created would just magically dissolve when I fell in "real" love. But the thing about a wall (even one built of glass) is that it keeps everyone out, even the ones you desperately want to let inside. When the reality of what I had created finally set in, I learned the only way out of a glass prison is to shatter it from within. And so, the work of breaking myself free began.
By the time my daughter was born, I was still very much in my perfectionist mindset, the glass was chipped, but still very strong. It ended up being the weight of impersonating a perfect mother that put the first cracks in that bullet proof glass. As a wise person once said, “Having a baby changes Everything .” Boy, were they right! Pre-parenthood I truly thought all the changes would be for the better. And many of them were, but a lot of them were not. What my baby girl taught me instead is that starting a family doesn’t erase the past, so much as it bring it back front and center. I knew I had issues and I was ready to shatter the walls I had created. However, What I did not realize is it would take more than a simple wish to free myself, it would take everything I had over several years for it to finally come down. Ironically, when the walls began to crack so did I. I jumped right into full blown OCD with ritualistic cleaning that gave me a sense of control amidst the storm of change that hit me when I became a mother.
I was in the middle of one of these OCD rituals when the vacuum, my trusted and stable friend, turned on me. I was vacuuming my couch with the attachment so rigorously that it tipped over and fell on my head. Really. Hard. And I completely freaked out. I called that vacuum names I had never said in my life. I kicked it, punched it, and strangled it until I was absolutely exhausted. By the time I finished I was a heap on the floor weeping uncontrollably. As this dramatic scene of vacuum beating unfolded, I stepped out of myself, watched in horror, and thought three things.
1) I am so glad my daughter is not witnessing this,
2) If anyone could see me right now they would think I was crazy, and
3) Oh my God, I am crazy.
And that is when I knew I needed to get some help, because my daughter and my husband deserved more than a woman who assulted vacuum cleaners. I began to use my "hammer" on the walls; and b it by bit chips turned to cracks, and the walls eventually became so weak they shattered. It was a long, hard journey, but I persevered because nothing was going to keep me from loving my new husband and family with my whole heart. The counseling I received started me down the path of personal development I continue today. What I finally began to understand is I could not have a healthy and happy family unless I was healthy and happy. As a parent, I am half of the foundation upon which our children grow and our family deserves a core that is strong and stable.
By the time my daughter was born, I was still very much in my perfectionist mindset, the glass was chipped, but still very strong. It ended up being the weight of impersonating a perfect mother that put the first cracks in that bullet proof glass. As a wise person once said, “Having a baby changes Everything .” Boy, were they right! Pre-parenthood I truly thought all the changes would be for the better. And many of them were, but a lot of them were not. What my baby girl taught me instead is that starting a family doesn’t erase the past, so much as it bring it back front and center. I knew I had issues and I was ready to shatter the walls I had created. However, What I did not realize is it would take more than a simple wish to free myself, it would take everything I had over several years for it to finally come down. Ironically, when the walls began to crack so did I. I jumped right into full blown OCD with ritualistic cleaning that gave me a sense of control amidst the storm of change that hit me when I became a mother.
I was in the middle of one of these OCD rituals when the vacuum, my trusted and stable friend, turned on me. I was vacuuming my couch with the attachment so rigorously that it tipped over and fell on my head. Really. Hard. And I completely freaked out. I called that vacuum names I had never said in my life. I kicked it, punched it, and strangled it until I was absolutely exhausted. By the time I finished I was a heap on the floor weeping uncontrollably. As this dramatic scene of vacuum beating unfolded, I stepped out of myself, watched in horror, and thought three things.
1) I am so glad my daughter is not witnessing this,
2) If anyone could see me right now they would think I was crazy, and
3) Oh my God, I am crazy.
And that is when I knew I needed to get some help, because my daughter and my husband deserved more than a woman who assulted vacuum cleaners. I began to use my "hammer" on the walls; and b it by bit chips turned to cracks, and the walls eventually became so weak they shattered. It was a long, hard journey, but I persevered because nothing was going to keep me from loving my new husband and family with my whole heart. The counseling I received started me down the path of personal development I continue today. What I finally began to understand is I could not have a healthy and happy family unless I was healthy and happy. As a parent, I am half of the foundation upon which our children grow and our family deserves a core that is strong and stable.
I look back and feel nothing but gratitude for the day I fought that vacuum, because it is the point I fell down lower than I had ever been and had to start looking up for a way out of my misery. It is because I was able to lean into the depths of my despair, that I am blessed to be living my dreams of being a mother, a writer, and a coach who uses my experience to help individuals and families build a strong foundation that supports their goals and vision for the future.
The lessons I have learned along the way are these:
1) Life is about balancing who you are at your core with who your loved ones need you to be.
2) Forgiveness is not only possible, but it is necessary.
3) It takes courage to be authentic.
4) Passion is the fuel of life.
It is because of our weakest moments that we are able to shine in our strongest. It took me a really long time to "confess" my vacuum story to the world, but I now own it proudly. I consider it to be a badge of honor that qualifies me to help those who might be stuck in their own glass prisons. This story is one of the reason's I named my coaching practice Clear Life - because while you can still see the sky through the square a glass window provides, there is just no substitute for lying in the green grass under a pretty blue sky that seems to go on forever. I believe everyone has an inherent and unalienable right to the freedom of a Clear Life on this great blue dot we call home.
