I had a little case of food poisoning this week.
And while I was writhing in discomfort, settling back into bed with tea and my computer, so grateful that my morning appointment had rescheduled due to his own circumstances, something occurred to me.
How had this happened? A quick review of the circumstances brought me right back to one place: my own mindset. Yes. I had manifested food poisoning, and a big part of the “why” was in my head.
Well, that was kind of shocking.
The culprit wasn’t really the past-its-prime cantaloupe sitting in my fridge. It was my own belief that even in its quickly-approaching-decrepit state, that I could make it good enough for me. I could make it work.
See, I’m uncomfortable with wasting food – something that I inadvertently do too often. I believe it’s “not right.” Waste not, want not, right?
So theoretically in service of something I value, I convinced myself that the fruit wasn’t that bad. It’s melon and melon is good for me. I convinced myself that it was “good enough”. Just a rinse and a few selective slices and that orange flesh would be a perfect candidate for making juice.
I know. It seems ridiculous when you write it down. I know the 4-day rule.
But I settled for something that I knew full well was less than nourishing – and as life happens, I paid the price.
This is the same story I’m hearing from a number of coaching clients lately. Though not with their juice-making experiences.
Reinvention can feel scary.
Reinvention, personally or professionally, asks us not to settle. It asks that we identify our own version of ideal and choose that, over and over. It asks for change. It asks that we examine what we’re doing.
This can challenge the best of us. At least until we practice it for a while.
It’s easy to slide into a place of convincing yourself that you can make do with something that is clearly not in service of your larger goal, when what you really, really want is something nourishing. It happens with our jobs, our career paths, our relationships, our diets, our lifestyles. Our habits.
And it never gets us where we want to go. (Where I wanted to go was my usual state of healthy energy. Where I ended up was in bed sipping tea wishing I’d made a different decision.)
The truth is, it’s better to toss out what we know is not good for us instead of trying to salvage it.
The process of reinvention requires this of us. It asks that we get very clear on what we truly desire – and what we know is good for us. And to accept only that. Even when it’s easier not to. Even from ourselves.
Especially from ourselves.