Five years ago I retired from a career in administrative and computer support for a university. I left behind my ginormous community of friends and moved to a tiny, quiet town to start life over with my new husband. It was the culmination of a sleeping beauty love story that began when we were 14 years old, interrupted by 42 years apart and reawakened with a 2-week whirlwind engagement after he located me on Facebook. I felt a veil lift, reminding me of our innocent soul love, revealing him as my authentic soul mate. Bill was my first kiss, and now my last. If you ever meet him, please do yourself a favor and ask for the details of how he openly carried a flame for me his whole life. I’ve witnessed many happy tears in response to hearing our love story.
By all standards, I should have been happy and content. I had 60+ years of living tumultuous stories in my personal life, set against the backdrop of always having a steady career as an overachiever. I was a super Mom to two beautiful children, three grandsons and my first great grandchild. On Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs I was now nested strongly on the top rung.
I presented at my naturopath as she described just “barely present”. She told others I lived on the couch surfing TV shows with a bit of drool spilling over the corner of my lip. Not a pretty picture. She didn’t realize I was severely addicted to Candy Crush video games, and active in the online community helping others struggling to level up. She weaned me off a long list of psychoactive medications and I began to reawaken. She cried a tear as I shared the short version of haunting memories, including the night I was held hostage by a serial murderer on the run while he shared the minutia of his current crime spree. She applauded my victory as a courageous survivor of incest, since my perpetrator spent years in prison and we subsequently reconciled through unconditional forgiveness.
I didn’t have any money to call my own. I was feeling a tiny bit more like myself again, so I spontaneously registered for a Hell Yeah business builder conference in Vegas. Thud. My loving hubby’s jaw dropped and we had an abrupt “come to Jesus” meeting with my doctor. Flipping from depression into mania was NOT welcomed with open arms. I started getting twinges of entrepreneurial feelings, exciting possibilities and difficulty narrowing to a niche or taking any action towards business. I stayed safe in ninja stealth mode, which meant my ideas didn’t see the light of day.
Slouched on my couch, Marisa rode a ray of sunshine onto my laptop screen and a new day dawned in my existence. She looked me right in the eye and promised she would take a stand for me to be a winner. Cupid’s arrow struck. When “perfect daughter syndrome” held me hostage with inaction. Fight, flight or freeze. Marisa’s “iterate to awesome” mantra arose my secret energy. EPM awakened my college student memories. Studying, engaging, exploring, dreaming & connecting. The intensity drowned out my gaming addiction overnight. I was hooked on ChaChing points now. I lay awake contemplating the success of my new EPM tribe friends. I raced around studying, hand holding, researching ideas to share. To spread the love, I gave honest feedback to other budding entrepreneurs, putting my fears aside. “Um, respectfully, your product sucks and you have typos. Will you still love me?”
If I had known the personal development power of becoming an entrepreneur, I swear I would have started eons ago. Psychiatrists, medications, counseling, crying on friends’ shoulders held little transformative power when compared to the 8-week EPM pressure cooker. As I awoke to my deepest superhero powers through EPM training & friends, I gained a brilliant new clarity about my purpose on Earth. The EPM Ikinomics revealed I’m an ambivert. My extravert social butterfly flits around in support of others’ success. My introvert keeps my emotionally tender business aspirations safely secret, behind the proverbial smile to mask the pain. This is an old worn out coping mechanism of incest. While you abuse my body and murder my soul, my inner sanctum keeps my true essence a secret. EPM shifted this cognitive dissonance through constant, loving interactions among 400 people with a shared goal. Surprise! It’s nonviable to build my business in secret.
My first experience product is a culmination of my life, my being, one of my superpowers – supporting others in sharing their memoirs (or even confessions). Life is uncertain. Don’t die with your story secret inside.
Did I create a web site, a large public marketing campaign, an autoresponder and squeeze page for a large list? Nope, not yet and I will thanks to extensive tools from Marisa, Coach Kataka and bonus mentors (especially Don Crowther).
October saw death of a family member and a couple gatherings where I openly shared with close friends how I’d swapped my gaming addiction for an experience product learning addiction. With my business no longer secret, I earned $3,500 through this informal Chatterbox campaign. Four customers have my signature on the back of a napkin promising to fulfill my sales after Christmas. Mission Accomplished (though I do feel a couple may have been a pity payment). Oh well. ;-)
[Hint: Now I need Marisa’s Hidden Story Power program]