Dear Shadow Self,
From the moment I was born, you have been on this life journey with me. You’ve have been right by my side as I raced towards a shadow of a finish line. You were there when I believed I could be more than what people thought of me. You’ve seen me broken and you were there when I glued the pieces back together.
I used to think you were the problem. You were the voice in my head that said hurry up, grind harder, don’t let your guard down. You were the hand on my shoulder at 2am asking what happens if it all falls apart. I blamed you for the knot in my stomach when I couldn’t sit still when the room got quiet. It took me a long time to realize you weren’t trying to ruin my life. You were trying to keep me alive.
We’ve been at this for 20 years now. 20 years of ideas that turned into opportunities. Opportunities that turned into careers. I remember the first time I felt rich. Mickey & Saint left $2,500 spread out on my mattress. I didn’t even have a bed frame. I didn’t need sleep; I had hope. People said my name with energy. It felt like a door had opened and would never close again. Then there were years when I couldn’t stop. I learned how to smile through the anxiety and downplay the success. Each time, I told myself the same thing. Keep it moving. Don’t let ‘it’ catch you.
It was you whispering in my ear. Don’t let ‘it’ catch you. I thought ‘it’ was failure. This year I realized ‘it’ was rest.” Rest looked like the edge of a roof. If I stepped off, I would fall to my doom. The work might forget me. The people might move on. The next opportunity might not come. So I kept running. Even when I said I was taking a break. I was really doing research for the next marathon. I called it discipline. Sometimes it was. Most times it was fear dressed in a new outfit.
Lately I’ve been tired. Friends who know me for spark and energy ask me how I’m doing. I tell them I’m peaceful, then I tell the truth. I don’t feel the same drive right now. I feel the weight of everything I carried to make it here. I feel the effects of 20 years of proving myself. I thought you would’ve been mad. Instead, you pulled up a chair.
This is what I want to tell you while we both sit down. I know why you’ve stayed close to me for all these years. You were built in the Projects where the ground crumbled without warning. You learned to scan for the exits when fear entered the room. You learned to keep me 3 steps ahead. You didn’t trust rest because rest was when we got surprised. You kept me alive and you helped me build a life. Thank you.
Now I need something different. I don’t need the noise on all day. I need a practice that lets me hear my own voice again. I want mornings that start with breath and not with panic. I want to work from calm and not from fear. I want stability I can I can feel safe with. The simple things. Acai bowls in the morning. Calisthenics in the afternoon. A studio that’s filled with creatives with ideas, even if I’m not a part of them. A way to end the day that tells my gut we’re safe.
So boom, here’s the deal. I will respect what you have done for me. I will invite you to the table when I plan my days. I will ask what you see, that I don’t. In return, you will not confuse stillness with danger. You will not run when I’m trying to walk. You will learn that a nap is not lazy. We will test this, one day at a time. And then if it feels good, we will believe a little more.
December is coming. 20 years of being an entrepreneur. I want to mark it with honesty. I will acknowledge the history. I will show love and thank it. Then I will step outside and breathe deep and finally give us the gift I have been avoiding. Time. Not empty time. Healing time. Time that lets me hear what I want next. Time that lets me want again.
You sit next to me while I rest. You can keep watch while I learn a peaceful way. We can be on the same side.
With respect,
ME