I’ve had it.
Sorry, no two-week notice. No training the next person. No exit interview.
Thank you very much, I’m outta here.
Yesterday morning around 8:30, I was “having a moment”. Not a life-is-beautiful-relish-the-moment kind of moment. But a the-world-is-crashing-in-on-me-fast-get-the-hell-out-of-dodge kind of moment. So I sent this text to my boyfriend.
My Godman is used to my little freak out moments. He’s used to getting texts like this from me randomly and frequently. And he doesn’t overreact to them. That’s why he’s my Godman.
He may not understand my mini-outbursts because he was admittedly miraculously born without feelings or sensitivity, but he accepts them. Partly because he knows I just watched the sunset 3 days ago. And partly because he accepts me as I am.
And he knows exactly what to do to make me feel better.
He doesn’t play into the drama. He doesn’t buy into the story. And he doesn’t stop everything he’s doing to come rescue me on his majestic white horse, sword drawn and waving menacingly in the sky.
He knows that these moments only last exactly that – mere moments. Sometimes I feel emotions so intensely that I develop sudden and temporary Alzheimer’s. I forget that emotions come and go, that they don’t linger forever unless I hold onto them. And I forget that the rest of my life – outside of those 20 seconds – is pretty damn good.
After I texted him, I felt better. And happy, relaxed Tree came back.
But this morning, I had another freak out moment. Again.
About the same things.
And happy, relaxed Tree disappeared.
Why did I freak out?
Because I had an August 31st deadline with my book publisher. Today is September 1. And I’m still staring at a blank page.
Because I have a September 13th deadline with an interview I did with Mark Manson nearly 3 weeks ago for a Huffington Post article. And I still haven’t opened the audio recording since the day we hung up.
Because I promised my readers answers to their questions from Elaine Aron’s new movie, Sensitive and In Love. And I still haven’t read the 2-week old email from the producers of the movie with all the answers.
Because I’ve been hand-picked to be a success story case study for a multi-gazillion dollar business course. And I haven’t done a damn thing to keep up with their benchmarks and timelines.
Because I’m opening my course again in November. And I haven’t even started working on the new modules or any of the launch elements.
Because I’m giving up my 1 on 1 private coaching practice in order to serve more people in less time. And in order to do that, I need to spend more time restructuring my business model and the thought of everything that entails overwhelms me.
Because I have 48 unread emails from my readers that are 2 months old. And I still have no idea when I’ll find the time to personally respond to each one.
Because I’m tired. And I’m not perfect. And I’m tired. And I can’t do everything. And I’m tired.
So, I quit.
I quit trying so hard.
I quit overstretching myself.
I quit rushing through projects just to get it done.
I quit having mini-text-meltdowns (OK, maybe this one’s a lie)
I quit saying YES to everything I want.
I learned long ago to say NO to things I don’t want.
And I’ve been saying YES to things I do want.
The problem is that when you start saying YES to things you want, more things-you-want comes. And then you have to learn how to say NO to even the things you want, because sometimes it’s just too much.
Sounds like a great problem to have.
Unless you’re a highly sensitive over-achiever who gets overstimulated with more than 1.25 things on your To-Do list.
The thing is I want to do every single one of those listed above. I LOVE writing. I LOVE working on my course. I LOVE reading and responding to reader emails. I love all of it.
But I can’t do ALL of them ALL at once. Not even a week. Not even a month. And evidently, not even 6 months.
So, I quit.
I quit everything-all-at-once syndrome.
In the same way that I can only devote my heart, soul and body to ONE man, I can only devote my time, energy and focus to ONE project.
I will no longer try to do five things in one hour.
I will now try to do one thing in five hours.
And I will do that one thing with full presence, mindfulness and a sense of lightheartedness.
If it doesn’t get done, it doesn’t get done.
As long as no one sends a tweet to the Earth to stop spinning, I think I’m good.
This is the way I work best.
This is the way I thrive.
And this is the way I actually get to enjoy doing the things I love.
So what do you quit? I’d love to read your resignation letters in the comments below.
(But I may not respond for a few months… because, well, you know…. I just quit and all.)