So do you know what I did?

None of it.

I didn’t go to uni.

I didn’t become a model.

Why? Not because I didn’t have the intelligence, looks, or the ability. I didn’t go because I was lacking that one vital ingredient for success: self-belief. I didn’t think I was worthy. I woke up and told myself I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t good enough.

Yesterday, I got signed to a model agency. The first one I applied to, in fact. A second one is now interested in signing me too. I’m not telling you this to show off (although I am a teensy bit proud of myself). I’m telling you this because one of the most important gifts that comes with age, experience, hard times, knock backs and failures is self-belief. Resilience.

Ironically, before life had truly chewed me up and spat me out I had no confidence whatsoever. Yeah, I gave it the big’un; pretended to be the buoyant bolshy blonde that everyone expected me to be, but inside I was a terrified little mouse. It was only AFTER everything went wrong that I discovered my true inner strength and confidence.

On paper I’m a failure: I work in retail for a start. I’m divorced. Childless. Single. Living alone. But for the first time I know my value, and I understand my power. I don’t suffer fools gladly. I take no shit.

And yesterday, the Universe rewarded me with a modelling contract, aged 43. I’m not the smooth-skinned, innocent 18 year old I once was. I’ve got scars and flaws and wrinkles (many, many, wrinkles). But for the first time in my life I’ve also got confidence. And muscles (don’t forget the new-found muscles). And I’m going to look down the lens of that camera, and I’m going to bloody well own it.

Sam x

The post The Power Of Your Inner Voice appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

Do you ever look up at a starry sky on a clear night and feel overwhelmed by your utter insignificance? In the great scheme of things, you are a speck of dust, existing for merely a millisecond in the history of time. I remember the exact moment in my life that this felt most apparent…

I was backpacking across Australia: a group of us way out in the outback, the dusty Red Centre, camping beneath the stars one night, on a mission to reach Ayers Rock – or Uluru as it’s more accurately known – in time for sunrise.

Now I use the term ‘camping’ in the loosest sense of the word, since we had no tents; we were just lying in a row in our sleeping bags directly on the dry and cracked red earth, hiking boots tucked inside our sleeping bags so that they wouldn’t be stolen in the night by the circling dingos, who sporadically startled us with piercing cries.

Sleeping under the stars

In between flicking on flashlights to see if anything was about to feast on us and brushing insects from our faces, we finally settled enough to gaze silently up at the huge expanse of black sky and marvel at the bright, white, twinkling stars. With not a single light or building for miles around it was probably the best, the clearest, view of the universe that any of us – a group of travelling city-dwellers from around the world – had ever seen.

As we lay on our backs, heads fuzzy from exhaustion and warm beer, staring up at the sky whilst one of the more astute astronomers amongst us pointed out the various constellations, we agreed that we had never felt smaller, or more irrelevant, than at that moment.

It’s easy to be overwhelmed by life; to feel like a tiny ant standing at the foot of a giant mountain. Sometimes, I contemplate the scale of a task, such as gathering 100k signatures for my petition (challenging the NHS’s new laissez-faire approach to cancer screening) and it feels impossible.

It’s all too easy to doubt yourself, to ask “why am I bothering?” or “what’s the point?” The pessimist in me mutters “another 40 years and you’ll be dead and forgotten anyway” – which is a pretty dark way of looking at things (although on the flip side it does help keep worries in perspective).

But then I remember that an ant is actually one of the strongest creatures there is, able to carry over fifty times it’s own bodyweight. This video, which I filmed in Costa Rica, demonstrates the impressive strength and resourcefulness of leafcutter ants:

But that’s nothing! A dung beetle can pull 1141 times it’s own body weight, making it the strongest animal on Earth for it’s body weight. Not a rhino, an ox or an elephant – a dung beetle. Think about that for a moment. I try to remember these facts whenever feelings of my own insignificance challenge my sense of self-worth.

As humans, we often measure our value in terms of our job, earnings, looks, popularity or possessions. You don’t need to be a CEO, a celebrity or a supermodel to be worthy. You just are. Being a decent human being is enough; you are enough. But one thing I’ve learnt is that having a real purpose, a passion, a goal, is what gives us a sense of self-worth and what, ultimately, makes us happy.

“Having a purpose is the difference between making a living and making a life” – Tom Thiss

For years I went to work, living for the weekends and holidays, without any real plan or focus. I’d assumed, somewhere in the back of my subconscious mind, that at some point soon I’d become a mother, which would then become my purpose.

My older, feminist self shudders at this admission. Sure, I worked long and hard, bought property and upgraded: from flat to house to bigger house. But it wasn’t the product of a burning passion; I just had a regular managerial job and clocked up the hours. Alas, motherhood was not to be, so then my entire being was thrown into question. What was my purpose now? What had I been working towards? What was the point of me? Years of agonising self-hatred and despair followed. What was the meaning of my life?

Life may have no meaning; but you can create a purpose

Then, one day, I rediscovered my passion for writing – a pastime that had been largely discarded, along with sketching and netball, soon after I left school, to be replaced with the monotony of working-class life; nose to the grindstone. Adulting had taken over.

Suddenly, the cloud lifted and I had a purpose. With renewed vigour, I’d wake early in the morning to write a blog post before work. My articles started getting more hits. I had one featured in a magazine, and then another. I drew on my life experiences and began campaigning to help others on physical and mental health issues, particularly cervical cancer and infertility. My excitement grew along with my stats. I was using my blog to do good; there was a reason to get up in the morning. Perhaps I could have a legacy after all. Finally, I had a voice.

Feeling proud: my first published article

Whenever I encounter a setback and that sensation of being tiny and insignificant threatens to overwhelm me, something inspiring happens – like a retweet by a celebrity or a request from Washington to appear as a guest on a podcast – and my confidence is buoyed once more. A tweet last week to Piers Morgan was read over 203,000 times and later quoted in The Sun. Thanks to the internet, the world is now a much smaller place:

Some might say, “So what?” “Who cares?” Haters gonna hate. The bigger your dreams, the more you’ll come up against resistance to them. If your “purpose” brings you joy and benefits others (or at least doesn’t affect anyone else negatively), then keep your head down, blinkers on and teeth clenched in dogged determination.

On a basic quantum level, all the matter in the universe is made up of stardust. As Moby sang:

“No one can stop us now
 ‘Cause we are all made of stars…”

You don’t have to be famous to be a star; you already are one. So find your mission, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem in the great scheme of things, and pursue the hell outta that shit. We all want to leave our mark, a footprint (and not just a carbon one) to show that we were here, we existed. We mattered.

When you find a hobby, job or some passion that makes you want to jump out of bed in the morning and crack on, you’ve found your raison d’être. When you’re fully immersed in that passion, when you’ve found your flow, you’ll experience true happiness.

It’s never too small, and it’s never too late. Don’t simply accept the status quo. If you found your passion at an early age: congratulations! Lucky you. If you’ve not found yours yet, there’s still time (but not a lot; don’t rest on your laurels). 

Try this simple exercise, which can help you find your life’s purpose.

So get out there, find your purpose – whatever that may be – then live boldly: be your authentic self and shine like the star you are.

Now, when I look up at the night sky contemplating the infinity of the universe, I no longer feel irrelevant; I feel exhilarated by the infinite possibilities…

my first glimpse of the sun rising over Ayers Rock

Inspiring links:


Before I die i want to… by Candy Chang (NSFW warning: this one’ll make you blub)
Personal excellence: A self-development site by Celestine Chua
TED Talks to find your purpose
7 strange questions that help you find your life purpose, by Mark Manson
3 unexpected ways to find your life purpose, by Shannon Kaiser

Sam x


Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (Life:ABird’sEyeView)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post Finding Your Purpose: The Journey To Stardom appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

“Sheesh, you’re looking old today, girlfriend!” “You’ve really shoehorned yourself into those skinny jeans, eh fatty?”

“I wouldn’t bother applying for that job mate, you’d never get it.”

With friends like that, who needs enemies, huh? Only these are not the words of a two-faced mate, a frenemy who offers soothing words of support when we’re down whilst secretly feeling a certain frisson of Schadenfreude. Oh no, this is something far more harmful, crippling us on a daily basis. These are words we say to ourselves. The inner voice sabotaging our everyday actions, personal development and general happiness.

Of course it’s good to have an inner voice when it comes to conscience, intuition, instinct. You need to question the wisdom of your actions, have a quiet word with yourself now and again. But what if the inner dialogue between you and your party-pooper psyche becomes more of a battle of wills, a slanging match? One in which the running commentary of negativity often wins?

It’s time to pull yourself up.

It’s time to sprinkle salt on the slug of self-doubt.

photo credit

As women, we’re adept at cheerleading others, encouraging them through the peaks and troughs of life, whilst simultaneously wrestling our own inner critic. But in order to be at our best and get the most out of life, we need to cut ourselves some slack, body-slam that inner bitch and see the good in ourselves, too.

You know those days when everything’s going well and you’re buzzing with excitement – say, the last day at work before a long-awaited holiday? You’re smiling, the day flows, your mood is contagious and all is right in your world, the inner voice cheerfully humming along to your tune. Even the mounting pile in your in-tray or an irritated customer can’t shake your merriment.

Wouldn’t you love to bottle that lighter-than-air feeling to save for those dark days, the ones where you wake up to pelting rain with a stiff neck, a black mood and are telling yourself it’s going to be “one of those days” before you’ve even got past the front door?

With practise, I’m told, there is a way. The first part is awareness: recognising when you’re self-sabotaging, then consciously doing something positive to change your mindset, be it exercise, listening to uplifting music, meeting a friend, calling your mum (good old mum!) or immersing yourself in a hobby you’re passionate about (why do you think I write?).

There will always be tough days, but they will be far easier with a Tigger bouncing about in your head, rather than a downcast Eeyore. I know from personal experience that if you cannot love yourself, it will become nigh-on impossible to love anyone else: sadness permeates every pore, wrecking your health and ruining relationships. You’re constantly on the edge, a tightly coiled spring, and the smallest perceived slight will make you snap. It’s a miserable way to live.

So try telling yourself you can. Put yourself out there. If it doesn’t work, whatever it is, at least you tried. When you’re feeling happy in yourself, you have spare happiness to pass on. You really do get what you give. If you speak sharply to someone, it’s hardly surprising that you get the exact same tone back. If you’re calm, honest, humble, others respond in kind.

If someone compliments you, a simple “thanks!” will suffice. Don’t question it or deflect the praise by shrugging it off, embarrassed, babbling something to the contrary. Absorb it’s warmth like rays of summer sunshine on your face and use the energy that comes from it to spur you on.

Having accepted the compliment, pay it forward. If someone looks great, tell them. Praise someone for a job well done, or message someone you admire to let them know.  When you’re in a good mood, people are attracted to you, which in turn boosts you further.  All these little sparks of positive energy will have a cumulative effect until suddenly you find you have a fire in your belly, strong enough to grab life by the gonads once more.

Obviously I can only speak for women, but I’m not sure men suffer from such fun-numbing neuroses. Even with a paunch, balding and more wrinkles than a Shar-Pei puppy, they seem to look in the mirror and see a Greek god gazing adoringly back at them. It’s like they have reverse body dysmorphia.

Take Peter Stringfellow as a case in point, confidently strutting about in his micro-Speedos on the beach for the tabloids’ paps. I’m sure he hadn’t spent the preceding hour grabbing the flab and bemoaning his bod in the hotel mirror, before slipping on a cover-up and carefully positioning himself on the sunbed at the most flattering angle, stiff as a board as he imagines the other sun-worshippers silently judging him from behind their oversized sunnies.

The recent passing of the universally-loved  Mohammad Ali has thrown his amazing life back into the spotlight, his inspiring quotes cropping up all over the news and social media. The stand-out personality traits which fuelled his success were a) dogged self-belief coupled with b) a sparkling sense of humour; borderline hubris offset by an innate ability to laugh at himself.

photo credit

A couple of years ago, I’d split from my husband and partner of fifteen years, having endured years of unsuccessful fertility treatment and the accompanying sense of failure and self-loathing. Meanwhile my friends were in long-term relationships or married, almost all had children and I was 37 years old, separated and living alone for the first time in my life in an eerily silent house. I’d hit rock-bottom and my confidence was at an all-time low.

After a short period of licking my wounds, I knew I had to take action to change my situation. I got a tattoo in Latin, which says “Fortune Favours The Brave,” wrapped around my torso. A bit naff? Maybe. But whenever I wanted to wimp out, I saw the tattoo and it spurred me on, even just to do small things like go to the cinema or a restaurant alone. You can’t have that emblazoned on your bod then act like a pussy, eh?

I stepped down from a stressful role, took a sabbatical and went travelling around Thailand on my own. I threw myself into the dating scene after 15 years (which was a real eye-opener, let me tell you) and met a new man.

I returned to work in a lesser role, prioritising happiness over money, and volunteered helping children in Costa Rica. I started writing regularly and sharing it with you all, knowing that it would mean exposing my innermost thoughts to the world and the criticism that may entail, but it would be following my passion to write. I got an article published (the first I ever submitted) and have you, dear Reader, following my blog, for which I am extremely grateful. Thank you so much

photo credit

Of course, there are far braver souls than me out there. I’m not claiming to be some self-help guru, and believe me, I’m often riddled with self-doubt. But one thing I’ve learnt as I get older is that if you don’t believe in yourself, you can’t expect anyone else to. Furthermore, everyone else is far too busy worrying about their own shortcomings and daily dramas to take much notice of yours.

No one knows what the hell we’re doing here, everyone’s just winging it and trying to get through this thing we call “life” as best they can. None of us are getting out of this alive, so we may as well help each other along, try to realise our dreams and have as much fun as we can along the way.

They say “Life is a journey, not a destination.”

Amen to that.

photo credit

This article has also appeared at Huffington Post UK.

Sam x


Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (Life:ABird’sEyeView)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post Sprinkle Salt On The Slug Of Self Doubt appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.