Sometimes you make things because they live deep within you and you simply must.
And sometimes, you make things because you are trying to give what at what point, you needed to get. The photographer with no images of her father who creates family portraits for others. The musician who only wants others to feel understood without the need for words, and so he channels everything he has into making dance floors pulse with life. The comedian who makes jokes about misery and suffering and depression because without bearing a torch for others, he would creep back into alcoholism or drugs or despair.
Often — so often — we give what we needed to get.
It’s only recently that I realized I’m giving what I needed to get a few years ago, when I wanted a true, honest-to-God-not-just-Facebook-community about as much as I wanted to breathe, and when I felt crushed by the profound loneliness of owning a business while working from home.
I wanted someone to hear me and say, “I know.
I know you can’t do it the way everyone says you should.
I know how hard your heart pounds against your chest and begs to be felt.
I know how much it hurts to be alive. Just to be breathing, some days. I know.”
I wanted someone to answer my questions about the next step
without just doing quick math
and saying I should do the most profitable thing.
I wanted someone to tell me I wasn’t broken.
I wanted someone to tell me that losing weight wasn’t the answer.
I wanted someone to hold me accountable for doing what I said I was going to do.
I wanted someone to look me in the eyes and love me as I was in that moment
without mentioning my potential or my future or my accomplishments.
I wanted someone to listen deeply
and ask profound questions
without any vested interest in my answers.
I wanted someone to help me see myself.
I wanted to be heard.
I wanted to be heard.
I wanted to be heard.
I was screaming inside and terrified,
and all I wanted
was someone to come and sit beside me and hold me while I cried:
some other human to look me in the eye and understand
without running from it or shrinking it
or trying to make it fit into a more comfortable box of some kind.
I needed someone to feel with me,
and sit in the murk with me,
and face the truth there with me, too.
I needed someone to rub my back
and whisper “it’s okay”
in the way of mothers holding newborns,
with nothing but love.
I needed to be held, just then.
…and all THAT is why I created Steer Your Ship.
Yes, Steer Your Ship includes six months of working with me, and yes, there are coaching calls and two live retreats and swimming with otters and profound realizations and quite often, doubled to tripled income, but those included things are very, very small when compared with the real things you get.
You get a sense of yourself again. (We’ll find you, wherever you went missing.)
You get to put down all the masks and walls you carry, and show yourself to someone who won’t judge you or make you feel less than or push you in any direction except the one you find most interesting.
You get someone who understands about shutting down and then coming to life again.
Hell, you’ll get someone who understands. Period.
It would be my honor and my delight to help you sort through the tangled threads of your own life, to see you fully, and to give you what I so needed to get.
Steer Your Ship registration closes with the rest of Brand Camp on September 9th, so nab your spot here.
…but it’s expensive, Kristen.
Here’s what I can tell you, from having spent over thirty thousand dollars on coaches of all kinds over the past five years.
It costs more to stay where you are. To stay stuck or lonely, confused or telling yourself you’ll figure it out on your own costs not only dollars in lost revenue, but YEARS. You say you’ll work on that or do that or figure that shit out next month and next month and next month until you find yourself hiding, stuck, exactly where you were years ago.
Growth takes other humans.
As much as I don’t like to admit that — as part hermit, part empath, part highly sensitive person and supremely shy introvert — growth takes other humans.
You need people to see you so they can reflect yourself back to you in an honest and loving way.
I’m happy to be that human mirror and to help you find wild and lovely, deeply surprising and ultimately delightful new ways of being in the world.
So yes, $4500 is not cheap. I don’t quibble there. But on the other side of making that investment, you’ll have seen more of yourself than ever before, and you’ll have grown in ways you can’t possibly anticipate right now, and you’ll get to know the joy that comes from being fully YOU in the world.
No more hiding, no more wishing things would just get easier without your putting in any effort to be seen (because TERROR), no more reading and consuming endless information without actually putting any of it into practice. ::waves to fellow learning nerds::
Growth comes from having someone hold your feet to the fire, and from that someone doing it with love and joy and in the spirit of watching you unfurl in whichever direction you choose. Often, the growth others experience with me is financial — oh hey, I doubled my income, I quit my day job, hooray! — but it’s so so so so so so much more important to me that you experience the utterly terrifying soul growth that means you’re being fully YOU in the world. Because that, my friend, has no price tag, can’t be taken away from you, and leads to roads you can’t even glimpse from where you are, let alone imagine. (But they’re gorgeous, and they’ve been waiting far too long for your footsteps already.)
I can’t wait to walk those roads with you, friend.
All my love —
P.S. To recap: Steer Your Ship is the best thing I’ve ever made and you’ll adore it. Registration closes on September 9th, 2016, so talk to me here if you want to join.
P.P.S. The words in this post were originally an e-mail that I sent to my Fuck Yah club members, and it got two completely opposite and extreme reactions of note. I break both reactions down in this episode of That’s What She Said, and even reframe hate mail as a very, very good sign that you’re on the right track.