Honor the Voice

You know something needs to change. You recognize the void, feel the emptiness. You hear the small voice of discontent whispering in your soul. Maybe it’s a new voice. Maybe it’s been there so long it owns a beach house on the outer banks of your mind.

The question is: Are you willing to change? Is the pain of staying the same finally greater than the fear of actually doing something different?

And what do you want? Sometimes you can feel the yearning but can’t see where it’s pulling you. What does fulfillment, satisfaction, contentment and meaning look, feel, taste and sound like?

Once you have that clear picture of what you want, your perfect day, the over-the-sofa painted scene of your life, how are you going to get there? This is where I get stuck. It’s not the doing, per se; I can act, do, stay busy with the best of them. I just seem to be dancing around the edges of the “big thing” unable to fully commit to stepping out and doing something different.

In his podcast “Decoding Transformation: Contrary Action is the Engine of Evolution” Rich Roll shares his struggle with alcoholism and what got him to completely transform his life. He was done, fed up, ready to change. He had entered a 100-day treatment center and confessed to his therapist that, yes, indeed he was ready to change. Then his therapist said, “Great. Then you just have to change one thing: Everything.”

You’ve probably heard the adage: If you want to change some things in your life, you’ve got to change some things in your life. But everything? Few, I bet, are willing to change it all (and surely admit they need to).

But let’s step back and really see what “everything” means.

I had felt the stirring of discontent, the there’s-something-bigger-out-there-for-me voice, for quite a while. (We are good friends, actually.) I got used to it as part of me, part of life, something to live with. I had a choice to live a “life of quiet desperation” or seek more, learn more, follow that yearning.

Years before I wrote my book, I had this longing, a “tickle” in my mind about writing. I treated it like a fantasy, thinking, “Oh, that would be nice. Someday I’ll do that.” I wrote a couple of paragraphs here and there, kept them in various places on my computer hard drive.

Then something changed. The pressure inside me, the need to get my story out, grew bigger than my fear of actually doing the work. I didn’t want to live with it anymore. It was too persistent and nagging and wouldn’t let me be. I didn’t want to be the person I saw myself as if I didn’t act on the whisper-turned-prodding.

On a bit of an impulse, I enrolled in a writing program with the goal of publishing a book in 10 months. Pretty ambitious, especially when one isn’t writing regularly and whose best writing could be tracked back to her eighth-grade English class.

I didn’t set out to write a bestseller, I just wanted to write my story in a respectable manner. I didn’t consider what completing that project would truly mean to my daily life that year, the hours it would take or the changes I would need to make. Did I have to change everything? No, but I had to make a shift, which changed everything.

The program forced me into a structure and helped me set progress objectives. It also gave me key support along the way: writing coaches, a community of other writers, and editors. I couldn’t have done it without all this. I changed my work hours and started getting up at 5:15 am (no small feat for a night owl) to write, opening up a couple of hours of dedicated time to the project.

But the first step, the very first baby step to all of this, was to hit submit on the program application. That was it. I didn’t have to commit any money. I didn’t sign my life away. I wasn’t committing to (or even knew) ALL the changes needed in my life to be able to complete the book. I just took that one small step, then the next steps fell into place. If you would have told me I would wake up before dawn several times a week for ANYTHING prior this, I would have laughed and said, “never going to happen.” But doing so made sense and I was inspired to do so, because remember, this was a yearning, a deep-in-the-soul knowing.

I made other baby decisions all along the way: the first was just to commit to hit that button and learn more. I could still say no.

Once I made that commitment, the other changes weren’t so difficult. I didn’t question the larger purpose or long-term impact of the yearning or even consider how it might change me on a larger scale.  I just needed the alignment between my thoughts and actions.

So, what do you want?

What is the first step in making a change to be closer to what you want?

What help do you need to take that step?

When we try to change, move toward change, shame can stop us in our tracks. Hope keeps us going, helps us take the next step. Let taking that one small baby step be your hope. Push that button. Learn a little more.

The feeling you have inside is real, powerful. Honor and respect that truth.