What I’m grateful for…
“Thank you for always guiding me…and for pushing me back into the world I love the most.” -A.
I got that lovely text from one of the “young people” (…when did I become someone’s memaw?) I mentor. A young woman, a very talented playwright, who–like many of us–really just needed someone else to give her some nagging attention and nurturing, and remind her that yes, her dreams are valid. To tell her what she needed to hear: that yes, if writing plays makes her happy, it’s not selfish to do what she loves, it’s MANDATORY.
I’m a coach because I’m passionate about helping as many people as possible stop making excuses, stop committing to their fears and START doing the things that they care about. (That includes, for fuck’s sake, the performance artists writing pieces about their pet rats, Gunther…if it makes you happy, if it makes you come alive, I want you to do it. I probably just don’t need to hear about it. Like the people who ask me if they should write the novel they’ve dreamed of, about werewolves falling in love or whatever, and I have to say, “By all means!,” even as inwardly, I sigh. Listen, I want you people to do what makes me happy but that doesn’t mean I always want to know the full details.)
I’m passionate about coaching, because in my own life, I’ve had periods wherein I did work that fully engaged me, and I loved my life (now, for example, and in my 20s when I was in my early years of TV news)…and, conversely, I had periods when I’d wake up, cry, and stagger through the day thinking,”…how is this my life? I don’t understand….” Not surprisingly, the good parts were a lot more fun. Luckily, I’m also a stubborn, determined mofo. I hate pity parties–even, no, especially, when I’m throwing them–and I couldn’t stand to spend my life as a coward. I nagged the sh*t out of myself. I made a comeback in my own life. Now, I’m here to help others: now, it’s personal.
The girl who texted me? Her life isn’t perfect. But she’s at least passionately engaged in doing what she cares about, and what makes her feel alive. What else is the point? If you think I’m being naive, I think you’re making excuses. What kind of living are you really doing if you’re not doing what you care about?
To receive a text like hers on Thanksgiving made me truly grateful. It made me know that I played some (small) role in helping someone else make her own comeback: what a privilege for me! It put a huge smile on my face: I’m a lucky Yenta!
