apathy be gone

“You should make a woman angry if you wish her to love” – Publilius Syrus

Anger surges, fills out my heart.

Consumed, my thoughts tumble thickly over one another. The Scorpio inside me lashes her tail, tries to pincer and sting with turgid silence.

Just call me Lyssa.

I assume the fetal position, scooped round like a ball of hedgehog spikes.

It’s not fair, childishly insolent.

He only thinks about himself, fiercely defiant.

Clinging onto the hurt is somehow imperative – I need it to protect me later. Anger masks pain, frustration, insecurity, powerlessness.

I know this, he knows this.

Soon after, strong arms squeeze around me from behind. Soft teasing makes laughter bubble and anger dissipate.

Love pours back in, spills over into my darkest crevices.

Let it go. Let it go. Let it go.

Earlobe kisses and sweet caresses under winter pajamas make my skin sing.

He loves me to death, self-soothing.

I overreacted, rationality returning.

I bathe in his adoration.

Make me feel. Whatever you do, make me feel.

Overwhelm me every which way. Apathy be gone.

I’ll love you for it – always, always, always.

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I just had to share this…

spacer The adorable Ali Rittenhouse is a self-confessed tech cheerleader, digital diva and empress of online empires.

She’s a fierce believer in awakening women around the world to their inner ‘geek’ and helping them build six-figure businesses. She’s on a mission to kick-start a new generation of tech-powered trailblazers – women who bust stereotypes, break glass ceilings, and show the world who’s boss.

Ali created her own version of the popular “Sh*t ____ say” series (search YouTube if you haven’t come across one of the videos yet). This one is “Sh*t Womenpreneurs Say”. I couldn’t resist sharing it here with you – especially as I recognized myself in there ;-)

Dig in and see if any of it sounds familiar.

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shyness: how to divide + conquer

I have a confession… Wait for it.

Okay, okay, it’s not that juicy.

It’s just… I can be shy.

Those who know me will pooh-pooh this revelation, because once we’re past the introductions and I feel comfortable around you, I’m anything BUT. I’m bubbly, upbeat. I laugh (a lot). I’m not easily shocked, so throw those innuendos my way, honey. I’ll lap them up.

The catalyst for this post is a call I took last night from a new client who I’m ever so slightly (okay, a lot) in awe of, and I felt all tongue-tied on the phone like I was a teenager all over again.

I sorta-kinda hated myself for it afterwards.

The crazy thing is, I know I’m capable. I’ve hosted awards ceremonies, schmoozed editors, charmed CEOs, presented to rooms crammed full of sales folk, worked the tech helpdesk at a technology (un)conference. There’s more, but I won’t bore you.

At the heart of it lies a niggling little back story that took place at the end of my first ever internship at the local newspaper in my hometown.

I spent the week shadowing reporters and adored the experience. I decided right there and then I’d never get stuck behind a desk. Instead, I’d get out there and interview the public and meet different people every day of my life.

At the end of my time at the paper, the editor-in-chief had to check off boxes on my report sheet and add a little comment at the bottom to let me know what he thought about me.

He wrote that I was too shy and so being a reporter probably wasn’t for me.

I was FOURTEEN. Still developing, transitioning into adulthood.

To prove a point (well, not just to prove a point – I still clung to my journalistic aspirations), I:

  • Volunteered for an entire summer at my local radio station, producing a six-part series at the tender age of 17.
  • Secured internships at a London-based magazine powerhouse, a regional newspaper, and BBC television.
  • Managed to beat off the competition and get myself elected for the position of Head of News at my university radio station, which I secured and held for two years with a team of news readers under my tender-lovin’ guidance.
  • Reported regularly for my university newspaper.
  • Secured a position as a full-time presenter, anchor, reporter, editor, producer at the local television station in my hometown (we were short-staffed, hence the multiple job titles).

What happened after that is a story for another time (something to do with a lack of investment and pay checks bouncing all round – joy).

And yet that “too shy” smite lived with me with for years. It’s still with me today, because here it is, again. Ugh. Rearing its ugly head. Causing me to doubt myself and question what I know.

The thing is, when I put pen to paper, I know unequivocally that I can articulate anything I want. It’s where I’m most at home. I rely way too heavily on email, text, social media. I hate picking up the phone. Maybe that’s Generation X for you, or maybe that’s Generation Shy. I’m ME when I write. I’m fully fleshed out by the words on my page.

When it comes to verbal negotiation, or networking, I feel that familiar discomfort welling up. The doubts crowding in.

So I’ve come up with this little trick.

Ready?

I tell myself I don’t care.

Seriously. The key here is that’s what I TELL myself. Fact is, I do care. I care too much. I care so much my heart races and my stomach flips and I come off as an over-enthusiastic puppy.

If I tell myself I don’t care, my heart rate slacks off, my stomach settles, the eager-puppy routine shelves itself. I’m me, I’m relaxed, I’m capable.

And that’s the thing with us extraordinary women. We don’t let things hold us back. We find a way around them, through them, under or over them. We push past and come up triumphantly on the other side.

It’s how I overcome my fear of heights (present tense, since every time I’m faced with them I have to do this). It’s how I wound up leaving everyone I knew, uprooting my entire life, and moving Stateside four years ago. It’s how I put the past to one side and followed the path of true, soul-aching love.

We see the challenge, visualize the outcome, divide and conquer.

Which is, quite simply, extraordinary…

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