I am normally a very loving, kind person. I may say things super bluntly (especially for southerners) and I definitely say “fuck” a whole lot, but I’m kind.
My friends actually call me the Love Terrorist. It started with my friend Lisa and I owned it and now it’s just a thing. It’s a fairly accurate representation of who I am.
All of that being said, sometimes I can be a real asshole. It’s one of the side effects of chronic pain and medication to treat chronic pain that I haven’t seen many people talk about.
Not all opportunities are created equal, especially when it comes to virtual businesses and direct marketing opportunities.
There is a difference between fearlessness and recklessness. You don’t want to be reckless.
If you are reading this and thinking, “I need something like this in my life,” or “I don’t want to keep settling either, I want to dream again too,” join me!
Let’s punch fear in the tits together and build something great in the space in which fear used to live!
I have done a lot of hard work in therapy throughout my adult life. I’ve had two therapists especially who I credit with helping me to make my biggest breakthroughs so that I could function as a healthy (albeit imperfect) adult.
Because of all of this hard work I am generally able to maintain my moods and emotional well-being with extremely low doses of a particular medication and a heaping mountain of self awareness and self-care practices (thanks social worker friends!) Diet and exercise also play a roll.
Throwing chronic pain into my mix, though…I didn’t see that freight train coming, y’all.
For a long time I accepted my meager earnings as “part of the deal.” In exchange for the opportunity to do life-changing, world-changing work I had to suck it up and make less money.
After some years, though, acceptance turned into deep resentment and I stopped dreaming, stopped looking to the future. I was just trying to survive, and just barely doing so.
I invested in my business days before Thanksgiving in 2016. I haven’t looked back since.
The simple secret of loving someone or interacting with someone who has an invisible illness and/or chronic pain, is this:
“That really sucks. I’m sorry that you’re dealing with that, it sounds like Hell. Is there anything I can do to help?”
I love ice cream.
Like, I’m the girl from Michigan who’s all, “It’s 55 degrees guys! Time for ice cream!”
I never don’t want ice cream.
It’s a running joke in my relationship. I’d rather get ice cream than flowers or jewelry. Ok well maybe not jewelry. But I love ice cream a lot is all I’m saying.
Have I yet mentioned that I live in a town in South Central Tennessee that isn’t super alternative-diet friendly? They put meat in everything in the south, y’all. Even green beans. Green beans have meat. Let that sink in…