Am I a Fraud?

When I first booked the From Burn Out to Badass workshop, I imagined myself bouncing into the venue on night one, bushy-tailed and polka-dotted.

However, as the time approached to craft what I wanted to teach, it came to my attention that Cinderella's stepmother (who has a habit of living inside my head) had been on a rampage, leaving me exhausted.

In other words, I had to teach how to avoid burnout when I’d allowed myself to become burnt out.

With me unable to put together a coherent thought, let alone wade through decades of material to craft a six-week course, Lady Tremaine (who knew the stepmother had a name?) inched toward a grand mal conniption.

I've never been one to shy away from asking for help (read: hubby turning the fan on for me every night because the hot flash is hard enough, let alone dragging my sweaty ass out of bed), so, I texted SOS to my fabulous designer, Ella.

I had no choice: my faculties were in a straitjacket, and I’d been unable to accomplish more than somersaulting through dizzying days of disorganization and panic.

In Ella’s sing-song British accent, she typed back: “No worries, we aren't meant to create alone.” Ella ran alongside me, keeping my wobbling banana-seat bike steady until I was on the Harley again, waving to her in the rearview.

Why am I telling you this?

Because asking for help doesn’t mean you’re weak, stupid, a fraud, or not everything you’re cracked up to be.

In this case, it meant I was stressed, and my brain wasn’t online.

And yes, I specialize in illuminating female business owners and leaders on this very issue—unwiring unconscious, self-sabotaging behaviors and regulating nervous systems for optimal functioning... all while I was subconsciously self-sabotaging and letting my nervous system run wild.

Am I a fraud? No, I am human. And so are you.

Dust the shame off your game and tell Lady Tremaine to take a hike, whatever that looks like for you.