Lately I’ve been noticing, despite all of the Therapy-lingo in our world (cue triggered, Trauma, …) the 21st-century Mom has simply become better at disguising the ego’s basic needs. In the 50s boomers didn’t know any better but now we have options and yet the sinking ego remains within us women
Who the fuck are we in this overstimulated world?
In my 49 years, my ego has required entires boxes of tissues after being dumped, a full time on call therapist after my boss was mean to me, wine to chill my baby ego and a best friend to fly me to Hawaii on her United points to forget the drama with my 20-something roomie. I was always swirling.
Today, at 49, I’m restless because my sweet ego, formerly the ball buster ego, no longer arrives wearing a sharp skirt suit and carrying a bag filled with laptop cords spilling out.
My Working Woman Ego is eternally napping, she slips quietly into dresses in summer or track pants in spring, waking with this month’s morning coffee rituals, perfectly curated bookshelf, Yoga mat afternoon plans, Meditation cushions in every room, organic berries chilling in the fridge, and beautifully saved Instagram carousels from mentors. I have a to do list, ideas, strategies, but my alter-ego whispers, this feels good.
My ego offers nothing but twitches to fill my calendar with meeting after meeting.
And still, I am really fucking bored. I’m busy and often unfulfilled, trying to help my kids decide who they are, what Sephora and Love shack fancy tops to buy.
Online, social platforms look like instructions on optimizing a robotic life, not a real one. Have you, too, seen all of these instructions like I’m an ikea dresser to put together? Become your highest self. Optimize your routine. Manifest more.
Don’t you dare keep doing botox or using plastics or drinking alcohol.
Entrepreneurial must-dos are worse—Sign up for another workshop or certification, call the clients, download the spreadsheets, write the article dissecting the weekend instead of living it, do the work, call the reiki master, book the astrologist, heal again.
I’ve spent enough years chasing achievement to recognize the feeling when it returns wearing different clothes, yoga pants and free people overalls, not custom suits. My corporate titles eventually gave way to wellness certifications. Deadlines became moon cycles, which I cannot keep track of because I am really tired. Performance reviews became personal Growth that costs way too much Money. The scenery changed, but the voice often sounded eerily familiar.
You’re still not there, Lynn, you are not enoughhhhhhhhh.
I realize my ego is remarkably adaptable yet often loops, caring only that I keep the merry go round on full speed ahead.
Going Viral is Bull Shit
I’ve worked with some of the most influential women in our wellness space and what I realized is they are hustling so hard, like I did in banking. I am nearly out of steam. I didn’t realize that just like me, their fear of financial instability brought about constant achievement goals when you realized you were bringing achievement into your healing journey. Recently, I stopped signing up for training, doing partnering, offering free Coaching for friends who take advantage.
Trying to become “the best” Reiki practitioner, writer, coach, or mother is not my goal post, but showing up is. Measuring my worth by how much I’ve had transformed isn’t any better than wanting a title of managing director.
Up until my last surgery, productivity disguised itself as my purpose. Sadly even with all of this training and self development, my 40+ ego convinced me that ‘enough’ was always beyond today’s sunset.
This summer after my coaching container with a very famous media and wellness leader ended, I’ve realized that healing can become another horizon. The same ego that once chased promotions can just as easily chase enlightenment. The same voice that demanded more from my career can demand more from my nervous system.
The same corporate girlies who organized programs can organize spiritual practices. Deep down I’m so bored of striving for no real reason but external kudos, negotiating worthiness with people who have no idea what any of this means to me.
Thank you for being here.
I don’t need to earn my worth, neither do you.
There is nothing wrong with growth. We are meant to stretch toward the moonbeams and light up the world like these summer fireflies. Nature keeps reminding us that becoming has never required performing it just happens!
The cardinal doesn’t build her nest to impress the fox. The hydrangeas in my yard, which have been taken down to the roots by the deer, didn’t count their spring blooms before deciding they were enough. The ocean has never once wondered if another wave did it better.
Creation simply creates without micromanaging. Somewhere along the way, I stopped living and started managing ourselves.
My summer Just one more… certification, one more retreat. One more micro habit, one more launch, one more morning ritual that promises peace if only we’ll become a slightly shinier version of ourselves. When I cannot fall asleep, I’m rolling from pillow to pillow, side to side I’ve been wondering if we’ve collectively have mistaken constant self-improvement for self-acceptance.
My second half of summer mantra—a quiet revolution to stop making every part of mysslf a project. I’m allowing myself to soften, heal. I’m letting go of ambition for a kinder purpose.
Rest assured, I’ve tested this mantra while on a Family work trip (yes, it happened in disney world) anddddddddddddddddddd my ego hates ordinary moments because they cannot be measured. Despite my lack of peacocking with Jon’s colleagues, my sweet soul collected these ordinary moments in the pool, wiating in line, laughing at how hot it was. Living is in the & after all.
I’m learning that every time my ego asks, “What else should I become?” my soul offers a gentler invitation to relax in ME just as I am
Self love is perhaps the only success that has ever mattered.
xxoo, LFM
