What We’re Using as Motivation May Be Keeping Us from Loving Life, Ourselves, & Our Family Well

“I kept falling over
I kept looking backward
I went broke believing
That the simple should be hard.
All we are, we are
All we are, we are
And every day is a start of something beautiful.”
–Matt Nathanson, All We Are

I don’t remember dates, years, or numbers, but I remember feelings, images, and moments.

This occurred to me the other night as I laid next to my eleven-year-old daughter at bedtime.

“How old will I be on my birthday next week?” I asked her in all seriousness. For the life of me, I couldn’t remember.

Avery giggled. “Oh, Mom,” she said with love. “You’re going to be forty-six.”

I don’t remember ages, but I remember faces, images, emotions, and songs.

This probably explains why I’ve always used photos to motivate myself to become an “improved” version of myself.

The “motivational” photo I kept inside my kitchen cabinet when my girls were small and I’d deemed myself too big was from a trip to Seattle.

I don’t remember dates, but I can tell you I’d taken a ferry to Bainbridge Island that day with my mom and sister; I'd twisted my hair back with butterfly clips; the 4 Non-Blondes played in my sister’s car; and I couldn’t shake a constant feeling of emptiness. When my mom expressed worry about me during that trip, I got defensive and pushed her – and the pain – away.

How tragic that this particular photo and all the turmoil behind that perfect smile was my goal image as I raised my daughters.

I remember seeing that picture one New Year’s Eve when I opened the cabinet to retrieve a snack for my daughter before we went to a party. I remember the off-the-shoulder black dress I begrudgingly settled on and my unloving response to my husband saying I looked beautiful. I remember making my family take a zillion photos before we left the house, and if you looked closely, you could see tears on my baby’s cheek. I put them there.

At the party, people raved about how beautiful I looked; I could only think about how I was falling short of the girl inside the cabinet.

I don’t remember dates, but I can tell you the pajamas I was wearing and the room I was standing in when my husband tried to talk to me about how I was living my life.

“We have a serious problem,” he said, meaning me – I had a serious problem, and he was deeply worried.

He noted how I was juggling too many balls in the air … how I was stretching myself to the point of exhaustion … how I gave so much of myself that I had nothing left to give the people that really mattered. I remember locking the door, pushing him – and the pain – away.

I don’t remember dates, but I remember posting love notes from my children inside my cabinets and my closets.

The cabinet where I kept my cookbooks in the kitchen became so full of love notes that I had to cover up the girl – the girl who looked so strong on the outside but was crumbling on the inside.

I don’t remember dates, but I remember how it felt to open the cabinet and see my family's declarations of love despite the period of sadness, desolation, and disconnection I was in. The feeling was distinctly different than the way I felt when I saw the picture of the girl who ran the extra mile, but was lost inside.

I felt a glimmer of hope each time I opened my bathroom cabinet and was greeted by backwards letters, an army of hearts, and faithful devotion, despite how badly I felt like I was failing.

I would then turn to my children, and I could see them clearly:
Ready and waiting for me to love them.
Ready and waiting to love me back.

Those love notes motivated me in ways I could not explain.
Those loves notes filled me with peace I forgot existed.

When my children would wrap their arms around me, I’d hear a divine whisper:

“Don’t get ahead of yourself – stay right here.
Don’t get lost in the past – stay right here.
Love in the moment. 
This is where life is.”

I don’t remember dates, but I think I’ll remember this one. It was the day after Christmas 2017. An impromptu dance party began in our vacation condo with my 77-year-old mom and my two daughters.

I got up, their line of happiness adjusting to make room for me, and I danced.

My sister took a picture.

When I saw it, unexpected tears came to my eyes.

I didn’t think I’d ever seen myself look so beautiful.

With tears now falling freely, I thought: This is my favorite picture of me.

At last, it was not about the size of my pants, getting a flattering angle, having freshly washed hair or good lighting. At last, it was not because I’d just achieved a goal, mastered a difficult task, or had a fool-proof plan in the making.

At last, I wasn’t consumed by the past or the future. It was just love in the moment, and I was fully alive.

You can see it in my face, and it looks like joy.

I haven’t worn joy much in my adult life.

I’ve decided I want to wear more this year—this 46th year of my life.

As I see my daughters growing up,
As I see my parents growing older,
As I see my spouse growing to depend on me,
As I see the world growing colder and more divisive,
I want to wear joy. I want to be joy. I want to spread joy.

I know I could take this beautiful first month of the year, my birthday month, and easily sabotage it.

I could worry myself into a frenzy.
I could work myself to death.
I could goal-set myself to shame.
I could people-please myself to exhaustion.
I could deprive myself to emptiness.
I am good at those things.

I remember doing them, year after year.

But that was before—before I saw the way joy looks on my face.

I want to wear joy today.

I don’t remember dates, but I remember colors, sights, and experiences.

When I was a junior in college, playing in a rigorous tennis match against DePauw University, a butterfly crossed my court.

It was my turn to serve, but I stopped and watched the blue butterfly flitter across my court, like a divine whisper from God.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself – stay right here.
Don’t get lost in the past – stay right here.
Love in the moment.
This is where life is.”  

Whether that tennis match resulted in a win or a loss, I don’t remember. But spotting a butterfly became my goal for the rest of the season and the final season of my college career.

I hope I see a butterfly during my match today, I’d say to myself as took the court.

I saw more butterflies during that period of my life than I had in my entire existence. The reason can be simply explained:

I chose to see it.

Twenty-year-old Rachel knew something thirty-year-old Rachel forgot: Joy is right here, crossing the very path on which we walk each day, but we must choose to see it and relish it when we do.  

The moment I covered up that photo of my smallest self with my family's greatest words of love was when my goal in life started to shift – and along with it, my heart and my soul.

I’ve decided it is time to take this positive shift to a new level.

I’m taking cues from the lady in the dancing picture, the one who’s wearing joy because she didn’t overthink it: She just got up and joined in life that was going on right in front of her.

That is how I will approach each day I’m blessed to be alive in my forty-sixth year of life.

Because when you look at each day as a chance to love and be loved,
Rather than an unachievable expectation or an exhausting hurdle,
Suddenly you can breathe.

It motivates you get up and dance
With your ball cap on unwashed hair
With your two left feet
With your baggage, your scars, your silly hopes, and your big dreams.

It looks like joy on your face. It feels like oxygen to your soul. And it creates moments that transform you in ways “motivational” goals never could.

Maybe it’s time for you, dear ones. Maybe it’s time to break out of the cocoon of self-induced pressure so you can become the most beautiful, vibrant, and alive version of you.

Perhaps it is not only my birthday but also yours.

Let's wear joy today.

It’s the perfect way to end
And begin.

Something tells me we’ll remember this one forever.

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On Monday, January 22, the 8-week SOUL SHIFT journey towards presence, purpose, and joy begins. As I poured my heart into creating the course content over the past several months, I was transformed yet again. I am certain that is what brought me to the beautiful joy-wearing moment in our vacation condo a few weeks ago. I recently decided that I will do every lesson and every exercise with you. I’m so excited about making additional life-changing discoveries and positive shifts alongside you. Registration for SOUL SHIFT closes tomorrow (1/17) at midnight, so if you feel any inkling at all to join me, I encourage you to sign up. Even if you only complete one week of the course, there will be growth and discovery. Plus, you'll have lifetime access to the course content and can go back anytime to continue. Lessons will come into your inbox and be completed in your own time, at your own pace. There is no right or wrong way to do the SOUL SHIFT journey – you just need a willing heart.

A huge thank you to all who have signed up over the past week. Your incredible response has brought me to tears many times. Thank you for taking my hand and walking beside me. Best birthday present ever! Click here to learn more and enroll before registration closes tomorrow. If you think someone else could benefit from what I have written today, I’d be grateful if you share.

I love you all.