Skip to main content

Trust my path



image from https://redletterwords.com/
I recently had a session with Florence Achama Ukpabi, a courage and confidence coach on visibility.  It wasn’t a long session – just under an hour, as we got our times mixed up [time zone things], and she had been waiting for me for probably close to an hour.

After a questionnaire – that I should have filled up before and sent to her [which then took up more off the hour long session], she asked me what I wanted to talk about.  The issues I brought out were linked already – I do not do things because I fear the inevitable outcome of being visible, and with that comes a strange fear of success, because people – because visibility is made alive in being seen, and people are the ones seeing, and they will have opinions and thoughts.  About me.  Horror me timbers and shake them up.

I had told her before, within her group when she run a procrastination personality quiz [Transformed over Conformed: Courageously & Confidently YOU - she also runs a public page Faith & Belief Coaching for Christian Women], that I had visibility issues. 

As we worked through my issue, she drew out from me that I am very comfortable being visible in familiar spaces.  Intellectual spaces, clear talent spaces – where my knowledge, skills and experience serve me well.  The issue was stepping out into a new space, where I haven’t been before.  My life, my path is driving me – with my full acceptance, nay full embracing - into a new space.  A heart space.  I do not know what will happen, and this requires faith.  It is the speaking out of my faith, loudly and vocally, and not just to those who are familiar with my change and growth.  The sharing of the real faith me, an authentic me, the heart me – talents, abilities and gifts – to many.  The many who will include those with opinions and thoughts.  Visibility plus plus.

Further probing – I need to trust.  Trust is a verb.  A doing word.  I need to just do it.  Step out.  And look to the final output, and final impact.  The middle might get muddy and heavy, opinioned and full of thoughts, I might not have it clear, but I have to slog it, with my eye on the goal, knowing that I am doing it for the right reasons, God reasons.

Trust the process they usually say.  And what is the process?  I wrote about it recently.  The process is my path.  Trust my path.  Trust what I am doing now.  In this moment.  Now.  To get me to the next moment.  Trust.  I just need to trust.

After wards – I have through reflection also come to realise than I am fragile.  I do not know if anyone else is, but I am.  And recently a friend and associate asked me – why do I listen to what people say.  I must get to the bottom of that.  But off the top of my mind comes words like sensitivity [too much of it I think] and a beat down of my wishes when I was young which made me think that I did not know what was best for me.

I just need to trust.  Trust the process.  Trust my path.

Amen.

PS – thank you Florence.

Comments

Most viewed

What Madam requires

https://www.vectorstock.com I work as a domestic for my Madam.  I look after Madam’s big family and her big house.  I tend to Madams big garden and her big cars.  For Madam – everything must be big.  She herself is big.  She is also big on ambition – both professionally and domestically.  Which is where I come in. Today I had a review with my Madam.  And she reminded me of her expectations and requirements regarding my performance.  Some requirements were new, some she was just recapping.  In my own words and in no particular order let me tell you what my Madam expects.    My Madam requires;  I am all-knowing.  I must know everything that happened during my watch - where the bumps on the children came from and where her yellow, blue and green scarf is.  She wore it yesterday and left it in the laundry basket. I am omnipotent - all powerful, invincible and able to do what is inhumanly impossible.  I should make her 2 year old eat all 6 meals every day, an

Of panty lines and such other

Truth be told, as one woman to another, your panty line cutting across your baytock is not a pleasant sight.   True story.   And no, I am not jealous.   Truly, I really do not care that you have a big bum.   And yes, my backside is minuscule, a peanut of a derriere.   I am not well endowed in my nether regions.   And still I am not jealous. Lets talk about us, the small haunched women.   As the world goes gaga over the well endowed grogan ciandas, we too have drooled [in an appreciation of God’s creation kind of way and not on a sexual orientation manner], coveted those mahagas.   We have each come to the realisations that, “my fundamentals is small ya?”   We have told ourselves that “not all good things come in big packages” and “small is good too”.   And with that admission has come acceptance and soon an appreciation for our pint sized rear    My bottom is small.   And to add injury to insult, it has a bad shape.   It has dents on the side.   And these dents lend gre

Gal, before you get hitched....

Yeee!!   You are getting married.    Marriage is beautiful. You are in for a great ride!!  Exhilarating and thrilling.   Here is what I think you should know...... Marriage is an official arrangement.  That demands some bureaucratic process and hunting for certificates and signatures from various authorities.  Parking your backside on a man’s 4x6 bed and squeezing your underwear next to his in the bag hanging off the mobile wardrobe door is not a marriage. Even if you have four children.  And it does not matter what the constitution says.  Marriage happens when a man publicly stands up and says it has happened.  Until that day, you are just a woman he sexes, a woman who bears his children, but is not good enough to marry.   Before you marry, you know nothing about marriage.  You have watched marriages.  You have read about it.  You have gone for pre-marriage counseling.  You still know nothing about marriage.  You will find out about marriage when you are

I will write on my table

I am a creature of habits and routines.  Some good, some nasty, some neither here nor there – Rouge Deck thing with a crimson pool, that I nearly took a tumble into.  Future wise words to self – wear flats on deck. lukewarm, which I hear is reviled in some quarters.  One thing is, I do not often go into some spaces.  Like the food, fashion and furniture affair at the DusitD2 space – nice, with its with its Rouge Deck thing with a crimson pool, that I nearly took a tumble into.  Future wise words to self – wear flats on deck. Food was good.  The mushroom fritter like bites dipped in a ricotta and something and dip were divine.  I shamelessly munched on them in bunches of three.  I told the bites distributer to via me every 5 minutes.  Very obedient.  I stopped counting at their fourth stop.  Meanwhile, I was informed that the word divine is bougie bougie and to stop using it tout de suite.  I did.  Will never speak it again.  Only write it when I meet the mushrooms again.  Th

One woman too late

I am sitting at the bar, waiting for a friend who told me she was “at the roundabout” an hour ago.  Nothing much is happening.  Two men sitting to my left.  They are eating crisps dipped in avocadoes smashed with tomatoes and chilies.  Talking about internet marketing.  They each have Coronas in front of them.  I do not understand that beer.  On my right, a fifty-something old man, showing the pictures on his phone to his, female “working class” twenty-something year old date.  I wonder about them for a bit. Wonder what kind of pictures.  Nothing else concrete.  Just wondering without actually thinking.  Thoughts that never quite form in the head kind of wondering. Across the room – two white men sitting face to face across a small low table.  One pudgy.  The other sleek.  They take turns to go to the bar to buy themselves one beer at a time.  Strange.  It’s not a self service bar.  Maybe they like chatting to the bartender.  She is a nice looking gal.  With a mohawk and