Dreaming of Soft Success

The parts that are me will never leave me; it's time to I let go of the parts that aren't me, so my truths have space to bloom...what came up in my Circle on routines.

In elementary school I wanted to be one of the boys. When Adam kicked a ball at my face from a foot away leaving a red spotted imprint on my forehead and cheeks, I made sure not to shed a tear. When I accidentally kneed Eusebio during a tackle and he fell to the ground crying, I gave him shit, “I barely touched you.” I thought the other boys would validate me, but they didn’t. They circled me in silence until Mr. Paine pulled me off the field and gave me a lesson in anatomy. I felt dizzy and asked to go to the nurses office; I wasn’t one of the boys.

I wish I could say I learned my lesson that day. That I stopped trying to be something I wasn’t and focused on just being me, but I didn’t — I wanted to succeed. 

I was taught that in order to succeed you had to fit in. Ideally with the boys, but really whoever was in power. I was taught to never question those in power. I was taught that adaptation, discipline, and hard work were the cornerstones of success and to always strive for success.

In my first job out of college I worked with mostly boys and did my best to blend in. To be well liked, to be loyal, to work hard, keep secrets, hold my liquor, foster fun, and agree with those in power; I wanted to succeed. 

I got to the office early and left late. Our boss spontaneously came to the office around 11pm to post pictures of those still working and the empty desks of those who weren't. I didn’t want to be an empty desk; I wanted to succeed. 

Eventually I found myself in a leadership position, I was succeeding. 

I worked harder than ever to make sure I didn’t fail — I barely slept, I answered every email within an hour (even those that came in at 3am), I moved to New York only to move back to Los Angeles a month later because my boss changed his mind. I lost friends and a boyfriend. I walked around with crippling anxiety that I soothed by hiding a plethora of crystals in my bra. 

I was miserable. And the harder I worked, the harder it got. 

When I inevitably did fail I was told, “You did this to yourself, if you hadn’t created something so successful it wouldn’t need to be taken from you…you’re just a creative, you’re not meant to run it.” It stung in the way Mr. Paine’s anatomy speech stung. I didn’t fit in with those in power.

Eventually I quit, slept for a month, and became an entrepreneur who vowed to do things differently. 

But I couldn’t, because I still needed to prove that I could fit in with those in power.

So I ended up moving furniture around a home to create a slightly different feng shui when really I needed to bulldoze the house to the ground. I needed to deconstruct the system I felt comfortable in, because it was destroying me. I needed to construct a system that was meant for me, where I wasn’t constantly asked to betray myself. But this was too daunting of a task for someone terrified of failure and trained to never pause, never rest, to just keep playing like nothing was wrong. 

I continued the routine I had become so accustomed to — ignore my heart, ignore my body, work hard, be agreeable, people please, say yes when I want to say no, make decisions based on fear, and control the narrative.  And just like before, the harder I worked, the harder it got.

But this time my hard work led me to create Sol, an app that helps you stop trying to fit in, stop trying to be someone you aren’t, stop betraying yourself, so you can be yourself. In Sol’s Storytelling Circles you find stories of your past and share them so you can notice the patterns of your life, and start to unlearn the things that were never meant for you and embrace the things that are you, that have always been you. 

And eventually I started to slow down, started to listen more deeply to all the voices in my head, so I could sift through my routines, my thoughts, my desires, my habits, my emotions and understand what were my truths and what were simply things I had been taught. The more I started to unlearn the more comfortable I became with detaching from my identity altogether, because I realized so much of it wasn’t really me. The parts that are me will never leave me; it’s time I let go of the parts that aren’t me, so my truths have space to bloom. 

I am not trying to fit in with anyone anymore, and I’m certainly not trying to fit in with those in power. I move at my own pace so I can’t accidentally betray myself. I dream of a soft success that will come from being fully devoted to myself so my imagination has room to run and I can create from a place of love and freedom. I am “just a creative.” I’m no longer trying to be anything else. And now I know that sometimes the feedback that cuts us the deepest, is simply a gift we haven’t learned how to open yet. 

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