How to stop forcing your life

Happy Sunday, Soothers. This series on living the intuitive, surrendered and aligned life has been so, so much fun for me to create, and hopefully instructive, useful and inspiring for you to read. And we're winding down now, into the last couple of essays I have on this topic. Today, I'll be discussing how to recognize when we are trying to force something that doesn't fit, and how we can release that to flow. And next week, we'll wrap up the entire series before the Soother goes on a bit of a summer break. (Paid subscribers will continue to get updates.)

Are you new and catching up on this 8-part series? You can read past issues here at these links:

Part I: Beginning to live a surrendered, intuitive life

Part II: How you can begin to claim your desires

Part III: Listening to and seeing signs all around us

Part IV: Creating more space in your life for alignment

Part V: Asking for help, and taking action, over and over

Part VI: To surrender, regulate your nervous system

And today, we'll go into Part VII: How to stop forcing.

If you've bought into the concept that there is a flow to life, that life wants you to surrender to its force and also partner with it, one of the toughest things to stop doing is trying to force things that you think should happen.

Most of us are quite conditioned to sentiments like, "Tough it out!" "Never give up!" "Grit it out!" and other encouragements that tell us we must stay determined, we should never stop striving for something, that we can manifest our will, no matter what.

Now, hopefully throughout this series you understand that by living the surrendered life, I'm not by any means saying that this is a passive experience. To live in an intuitive and aligned manner, to surrender to desires and the call of the flow of life, requires a ton of courage, will, clarity and heart, as well as inspired action and movement.

But where we need to better learn to discern is where we are willing to go after the callings of our heart, even when they scare us, and when we are trying to force something that is ready to fall away as we move along the river.

The energy of forcing is, to go back to our trusty canoe/river metaphor, when we are trying to paddle upstream against a river current. All signs are telling us, it's time to let this thing go, to move on, but we have gritted our teeth and are paddling furiously with all of our might, convinced that if we only effort enough, we can make something work out.

To illustrate this concept, let me tell you two stories from my own life, one where I did force something, and one where I nervously realized I needed to let go of something, and did, even though it was quite scary.

Second one first. When I began my life coaching and teaching business, I was blessed by a generous set up from my previous employer, who contracted me as a freelancer in the first year after I left my 9-5. I worked so hard that year; I started to take on coaching clients and also designed my first couple of courses (Intentional Living and Intentional Dating) but in every spare minute I was saying yes to every writing assignment they offered me, whether or not I had the time, because I wanted to continue to have a financial cushion and was grateful that that work offered me that while I was starting out.

Towards the end of the first year as a freelancer, two things started to simultaneously happen; I stopped wanting to do the freelancing work. Time wise and desire wise, it had stopped being a match. I wasn't technically making enough money in my coaching biz alone, but I had a sense that if I gave up the freelancing work, that would open up extra time for me to focus on coaching and therefore increase my revenue there. At the same time, the freelance offers and assignments stopped coming, first with as much frequency, and then, at all.

We were at a natural point in the river, where it seemed it was time for me to let go of the freelance work. Now, I *could* have forced it; I could have reached out, asked for more freelance work, made it clear I was available and willing. And part of me did want to do this because of the financial security it offered. And I think I could have made it happen; I could have forced that to continue, or sought out new freelance opportunities.

But if I'd done that, that would have been the energetic equivalent of paddling upstream. It didn't feel right. Everything, both my intuition and the circumstances, were pointing to the fact it was time to move on from that opportunity, even if it was scary, even if I didn't know how else that money would come in. And so, I let it go and floated on down a new section of the river. A month later, when a project was offered to me, I turned it down and said I was closing the freelancing part of my business to focus on coaching and teaching. And we were off.

Here's a story of a time when I did, with absolutely everything I had, force a situation. When I was in my mid/late 20s, I had a painful breakup of my first long-term relationship. It happened while I was living in Atlanta, interning at CNN.com and finishing out my journalism masters from Northwestern (my ex was back in DC). The breakup was not of my choosing, and when the relationship ended, I was a hot mess, and I was furious. I was determined that I would not let the breakup end the life I had built in my 20s in DC. I didn't want to let my ex "win."

The thing was, I had just started making friends in Atlanta. And then I was offered a full-time job by the amazing team I was interning with at CNN, one that was willing to wait for me while I finished the last quarter of my degree.

I had no job prospects in DC. I had no place to live (my plan post my masters was to move back into the apartment my ex and I had been sharing). Returning to DC and trying to continue my life there was the equivalent of returning to a nuclear fallout site and declaring I was going to build a vegetable garden atop it.

The river was inviting me to point my canoe towards Atlanta.

And yet, my ego would not allow it. I was so furious, so hurt, I refused to follow the invitation and dug my nails into the scraps of my life in DC. I turned down the job in Atlanta. I moved back to DC and back into my friend group, which was lovely and supportive and fun but also caused a big old mess for everybody involved, because nobody really wanted to have to take sides in the breakup. The pain of being so near my ex and his new relationship and having to witness and tolerate that was like having my heart on fire, yet I thought I must bear it, to prove that I was fine. (To whom, exactly?? And anyways, I wasn't fine. I read once somewhere there is fire energy, which is great, and then there is DUMPSTER fire energy, which is... not great, and I was at the latter in this point of my life.)

I rarely have regrets in life. I honestly don't believe in them; if something should have happened, it would have... happened.

But one thing I do regret from time to time is not taking the river's invitation to Atlanta, which I only ignored due to my pride and ego and determination to try to make my ex's life miserable and show to everybody I was just fine.

I had a chance for a fresh start, a wonderful job that paid really well considering the field, and maybe a new and burgeoning life in a new city.

Yet, I paddled upstream with all the tenacity and force of a feral animal.

And am I saying it was the "wrong" choice?

No.

Ultimately I ended up having a lovely job in DC, my amazing group of friends invited me to live with them in their group house (which was so generous of them considering it made everything more complicated in the group's social dynamics) and I went along a new path in the river that I honestly forged out of pure manic will.

But would it have been easier, more natural, more surrendered to take the invitation to stay in Atlanta?

Yes.

But at the time, in my 20s, I didn't have the self-awareness or humility or courage to do it.

And that's okay. That's the duality of the surrendered life.

You can't go wrong on the river, y'all. That's really what I want to leave you with. It's not a contest or a competition; the surrendered life doesn't keep a tally of when you were "right" and when you were "wrong."

Ultimately, we absolutely have free will when traveling the river. And if we have enough force, the river does re-arrange for us. I think when it became abundantly clear to the universe that I was not giving up a life in DC come hell or high water, a new branch of the river formed, and I traveled down that.

As we grow and evolve, I think we learn the lessons of leaning into the surrender, to noticing the signs of the invitations. And, because we are humans, there are times when we WILL force. And that's okay. There are lessons in that, too.

And yet, more magic happens when we let go.

So today, my invitation to you, is there anywhere in your life where you are forcing? Where you are refusing to let go? Where you are paddling your little heart and body out but not making progress? Where you're finally realizing it might be time to take the invitation to release the paddle, let the river current turn you around, and float towards your next destination, your next iteration?

If so, share in the comments (to whatever extent you are comfortable; obviously it might be really personal! Feel free to keep it vague).

Next week, we'll close out the series with reflections, resources and how to move forward. But for now, happy paddling. Just remember: you're doing great.