on the verge of breaking?
|
Hey, When I moved out of my mom’s house just before my 18th birthday into my first apartment (AKA the sunroom of an old crusty apartment with 4 of my friends) …I needed a coffee mug, so I went to Goodwill and grabbed her off the shelf for 88¢... "Perfect!" She kept me caffeinated while I held down 3 jobs, college, and helped co-build a well-loved local business, and soon after, my consulting business. She moved many times with me until I owned a commercial building where we built a beautiful loft on the second floor above our local business. Inside that loft, I got my first REALLY nice coffee maker for Christmas. Coffee is my first step every day, let’s be serious. But I had been using a shitty coffee maker from the grocery store appliance aisle until this point. I collected mugs through years of travel. I’d pick another mug up in special cities and revel in the magic memories they brought me, even if it was met with an eyeroll. But still... something about this mug. I always had that special feeling pulling this OG mug out of my cabinet. 17 years after that first coffee mug of my own, I moved out of my loft and commercial building, and walked away from nearly everything I loved and thought was important at that time. I left my identity as a record store owner, and most material items besides books, art, music, and some personal items. I moved into my friend's house for a year. I spent time working on myself, listening to myself, and re-learning how to trust my own thoughts and intuition. My friends carefully and quickly packed this mug in a box during this emotional move, while my ex watched us, making sure we didn't take anything he regarded as his. I'll never forget how meaningful that year was to both my inner softness and strength. I felt raw but new. It's still hard to talk about. A year later, I set off for van-life with my significant other. Miss mug stayed in storage. I prayed none of my few items, mostly of sentimental value, had broken during these moves. She didn’t break. Today... I live in a peaceful house, with a loving, warm partner and two doggies who make life so beautiful. I have coffee every morning, and have plenty of coffee mugs to use, but I still reach for this one. I think about how long she has been with me every time I drink out of her, believe it or not... I did so this morning. I pressed her to my face and wondered how many cups of coffee had been sipped or spilled out of her. How many times, through tears, I asked myself if I was capable of moving forward while drinking coffee from her? How many times was life full of hope, or hopelessness? How many times I didn’t know what to do but pressed on anyway, made coffee, and moved through my day....she’s seen me get back up over and over. I love this mug, she represents so many transitional moments for me. If you’re going through a hard time, as so many are right now, please ALSO remember how many times you’ve gotten back up. Maybe you don't have a mug to remind you of this, so let this email be your reminder. You did that. You will do it again. Don't let anyone take away your power. With compassion and coffee, Lauren V. Davis I felt compelled to share that story today, but you may be here because you want to work together. :) Here are a few resources for you:
Free goodies for you:
|
Personal Branding doesn't have to feel slimy
Want tactical tips and juicy life-stories? Join here.