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.