I’ve been feeling inadequate these days. I wake up questioning what I’m doing with my life and my career, and while I know I’m helping others, I still can’t shake the feeling that I’m not quite where I want to be.
And that might be a crucial part of the human experience.
Maybe there’s always tension between where you are and where you want to be.
And I vacillate between accepting the present moment as being precisely the way it needs to be, and wanting to escape the discomfort of living in a liminal space. Because transitions are deeply uncomfortable. You’ve had to leave the life you know behind for the promise of a better life ahead.
Someone said that Tarzan has to let go of the previous vine to catch the next one, and that for a brief moment, there’s no vine to hold onto.
I’m in the in-between no vine stage. And it’s tricky, deeply uncomfortable, and requires a ton of faith in the universe.
I’m currently going through several transitions. Deciding whether to make LA my next, more permanent home, and switching the way I work from coaching and courses to writing and creating podcasts, TV shows, and books. While also learning to live with the grief of a father who recently passed away. And grieving the reality of a dog who will soon pass away.
And, I’m also just plain scared.
And I don’t think we talk about how to live with fear. What does it feel like in your body, and are you able to admit to those around you that you’re scared?
Because I’m scared.
I’m afraid that I don’t have what it takes to make it. In LA, in love, and in life.
I know that sounds like successful-person problems, but the fear is so real that it’s the first thing I feel in the morning. Luckily, it doesn’t keep me up at night, but I’m a morning ruminator, not a nighttime doomsdayer.
I bet there are parts of you that you’re afraid to share.
Fears that only you worry about and that no one else knows. Anxieties that keep you up and night and that you may be ashamed to admit.
Let me share one more with you:
I may not have what it takes to sustain a long-term relationship. And that’s terrifying. Because it’s also one of my deepest longings.
I remember sharing this with an ex once, and her reply was,
“I would prefer if you didn’t share that with me. Take it to your friends and colleagues. This disclosure makes it hard for me to trust in what we’re building.”
Oops. That didn’t feel good.
I call myself a love coach, but I haven’t had the most successful long-term relationships myself. I’ve chosen partners who couldn’t pick me, pined for unavailable people, and accepted less than what I wanted to maintain some level of connection.
I know, how human 🙂
And also, I’ve dated and fallen for some incredible women. There isn’t a single relationship I regret being in. I’ve learned from every one.
Part of me feels broken.
A friend of mine yesterday said, “Everyone feels a bit broken,” and I wonder how true that is. This same friend also said that everyone feels lonely at times, even those in relationships.
Again, another truth of the human experience.
I walk around thinking that something is fundamentally wrong with me, and that’s why I’m still single. Or that I genuinely don’t have what it takes, and that I’m doomed to repeat the same mistakes of the past, over and over again.
Even though I have plenty of evidence that I am healing, growing, and making better choices for myself: in how I care for my body, who I choose to love and let into my heart, and how I speak to the little Shaun inside.
Despite knowing these truths about myself, I still often feel lonely, scared, and broken. And not enough.
And it makes it hard to do this love coaching thing when I sometimes don’t feel like I’m enough. This not enoughness makes it hard for me to address the broader challenges of love and relationships.
But it’s also these feelings that we share that make it possible for me to connect with you.
My value doesn’t lie in my ability to speak on the nitty-gritty of long-term relationships, or even to help you solve your love challenges. It lies in my ability to share my feelings, help where I can through transmitting what I’ve learned along the way, and hopefully help you feel less alone, broken, and scared.
And help you feel that you are enough, just the way you are.
Through this work, I remember that I, too, am enough, just the way I am.
I spoke to my bestie, Christen, this morning and shared some of my feelings of inadequacy regarding my career and how I sometimes compare myself to other, more successful people.
People with multiple degrees, or making six and 7-figure salaries. You know, people with real jobs.
She reflected that I help more people speak their truth, set healthy boundaries, and learn to sit with emotional discomfort, and that that work is immesurably valuable.
Because I’m helping people love, and that’s the ultimate work that we’re here to do. Creating lasting intimacy with those we care about, and leaving people and this world a little better off than we found it.
We both cried for the parts of me that still feel unworthy of being here and not feeling valuable in doing this work, and for the little Shaun inside, still looking for external validation because, at some point, he never got it from the people that mattered most to him.
And so, all of this leaves me knowing that, despite feeling scared, alone, broken, and not enough, I realize these aren’t universal truths.
These are feelings that get in the way of my feeling present in this moment. Not scared, but empowered.
Not alone, but with deep friendships and communities, not broken, but wounded and healing, and enough, just the way I am today.
And I hope it leaves you with the same feeling.
I’m done looking for love
I’ve been looking for as long as I can remember. I’m a little love fiend, so the idea that I would give up is laughable. But that’s where I’m at these days. I’m also coming to terms with the fact that I may never have kids and that I might be a solo polyamorist. Read on to learn more.
