Life Talking to You

I have this phobia of introducing myself to people who I think are higher up on the social food chain than I am.  Of reaching out.  I’m scared I’m not professional enough, that I don’t know what I’m talking about.  That I’m a small fish and don’t deserve to fraternize with big fish.

Simply reaching out puts me a paralyzed state of catatonic self-denial, and oh-so-subtle subconscious self-loathing.  Yet none of this registers loudly in the self-talk department of the noodle.  There are no words to this internal email debacle, I just try and avoid and ignore it, while I’m squirming in the seat of myself.

I’m trying to get into the habit of writing those emails--the most uncomfortable ones--first thing when I check my emails at 11am.  Those are the ones that I’m prone to leaving until Friday afternoon, when for some reason, there’s less pressure because I think the person won’t really read them over the weekend and completely forget about my email and I’ll just fall off the face of the planet and into side-universe where nobody knows what I am and what I do and I’ll never have to face anything difficult ever again.  Riiiiighhhhhhttt.

Squirming in the seat of yourself is an ugly way to live.  (And trust me, I’m saying that to myself as much as I am to you.)

There’s a deeper, wiser part in all of us that knows what we want, that lights up and gets excited when we engage with something that makes us alive.  

As my brother says--“that’s Life talking to you.”