As much as I like to talk about my life and how far I’ve come, I honestly don’t like to talk much about my successes. Well, I kinda do but I mostly don’t.
I talk an awful lot about how I’ve gone from 0 to hero on Pinterest (and can almost consider myself an expert) and also tend to ‘brag’ (not really) about my big (read useless) Facebook page. I love to share my stories with you about how I traded in 53 years of my life in Canada and jumped on a plane to Guatemala, alone, with 2 suitcases, on a one way ticket.
I love to talk about how I’ve finally got my website near perfect (in my eyes, though there’s still work to be done) and have finally been accepted into a higher ad paying agency.
Oh, and I couldn’t wait to share my exciting news that Neil Patel tweeted me. I mean, come on, who wouldn’t be excited to share that?!
Look at me!! Wait, no don’t.
I really want to share all those things with you but I have to be honest. It makes me really uncomfortable. I hate bragging and I loathe people who brag for the simple sake of making themselves look better than everyone else.
And that’s what goes on in my mind.
When I share my successes with you (which I have a really fucking hard time doing) I feel like you are thinking “Oh here she goes again. Shut up Felicia. We’re tired of hearing about it”.
This is what goes on in my mind. I already know many of my so-called friends from Sudbury have unfriended me or ‘unfollowed’ me because of my ‘bragging’.
But it’s not bragging. But sometimes I feel it is. Sometimes I really do want to shout off of the rooftops “LOOK AT ME!! I’M FINALLY A SUCCESS!!”
I feel like this because…
All my fucking life I was a failure. Now if you know me at all, you know I hate the word failure but it packs a punch for this story. It’s the only word that truly fits my life’s journey. Sort of.
I never did anything right. I was in and out of jobs, schools and relationships more times than you can shake a stick at.
Nothing ever worked out for me. 53 years of disaster after disaster. Disappointments, heart breaks, financial ruins and then finally crashing into rock bottom.
I was an embarrassment to my parents for the longest time. I imagine at some point even my sisters were embarrassed of me. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that the rest of my family thought I was a huge failure.
0 to hero in 56 years
As icky as it makes me feel to share all my amazing victories in the last 3 years I feel like I have to. It’s my duty to share my stories whether I like it or not.
- Because someone needs to read them.
- Because someone needs to know that there’s hope.
- Because someone needs to know they aren’t alone and no matter what hell they are going through right now, there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
- Because there’s no shame in being fucking proud of myself and sharing my victories with you. None at all.
- Because you need to know I share these things with you because I want you to believe in yourself and if no one else believes in you, I do!!
Yes it took me 56 years to finally make something out of my life. Too little too late? Absolutely not.
I’ve never been more excited about life than I am now. I’ve never been more proud of myself than I am now. I’ve never been more confident and content with myself as I am now.
And it’s perfectly ok to share your victories and successes with others. Someone needs to hear them. You are giving someone hope. Hope for better things to come. Hope that they know if someone else can do it, so can they.
If I can help just one person
If only one person reads my stories and goes out and chases her/his fucking dreams because of them, then I’m a happy person.
If only one person shouts “Hell ya!” and becomes braver and more courageous because of my stories, then I’m a happy person.
If I can help just one person by me tooting my own horn then my work is done.
Share your stories, shout off the rooftops, write about your victories. Because someone needs to hear them.
I love you ❤
Peace and Love
xo iva xo