This Is a Post About Money That Isn't About Money

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Alright homies, let’s talk about money. If you’ve been following me a while, you’ve been let in a bit on my “stuff” in relationship to this particular form of energy that I am so perpetually annoyed by. If you know me personally, you’ve seen into the deep wounds I hold around this thing, and seen up close how very much I hate talking about it and how much pain I experience in my tireless work to heal. Money, I’m trying really hard to love you but I have a lot of junk to work on before my first instinct ISN’T to hate your guts.

This post isn’t about money. It’s about how whatever our STUFF is makes us feel and what do to with that information.

My stuff is money. I have PLENTY of other stuff but money is one of my real big ones. Whatever your story about 💸💰  is - fellow human, I’ve been there and may very well be there right now. I’ve had too much, I’ve had not enough, I’ve felt safe and secure and I’ve felt absolutely paralyzed with fear. What you might notice about those sensations  though is that none of them are exclusive to money, you feel me? Insert any of your own shit into the blank to be filled in here “The sore spot in my life is __________” and you could follow that up with any of the aforementioned feels. No matter what that is for you, it’s just a mirror. The “thing” isn’t the thing. It’s us.

This morning I opened my laptop to pay some bills. One tab opened to my bank, another to my car insurance, another to my phone bill, another to an invoice to be paid for coaching (your girl needs a coach too), and instantly my chest started to tighten. Right on cue, there is less oxygen flooding my lungs. Without fail, tension creeps into my legs. My body is responding to the experience of what I fear most - even though all of the resources are available to do what is needed. I am not in the kind of abundance that I’d flaunt in a music video like I watched on 106 & Park when I was a kid (yes. yup.), but I’m not in lack either. There is enough for what I need and still my body responds. WTF do you do with that?

You feel, man. You lean into what you’re experiencing. Between your ears, on your heart, upon your flesh and far beneath. This morning I’m asking myself what it is that I’m really scared of when I send money away - what’s the primary need that my subconscious is concerned about? Where did that story come from? The answers might not materialize instantly, but I allow for their incoming and tell The Universe that I’m open to receiving this awareness when I’m ready. I don’t fucking know when ready is but I trust that to be realized intuitively. That’s what this process is. Allowing and Trusting.

Most importantly, I give myself permission to just have the moment. This whole “spiritual bypass” thing makes it sound sexy to “just think positive” or whatever the fuck and totally skip over the actual experience. Bypassing what you’re feeling because it doesn’t feel “good” (intentional steady use of air quotes here because these things are all bullshit) is actually low AF on the vibrational scale. Pretending everything is great when you don't authentically feel that that isn't honoring the truth - and what we're interested in is the whole truth and nothing but. What IS high-vibing is not running from your stuff. Welcome to the cool kids club boys and girls (and gender-neutral identifiers)! What that could sound like in terms of a you, yourself and you conversation is: “I am feeling anxious right now. I’m feeling this way for a reason that I’ll understand in time. Until then, I am having this experience and it is okay that I’m having this experience.” Then journal about it, move your body, sit with someone you feel safe with and be heard  - when it comes to a method of processing, the adventure is yours for the choosing, my friend.

Whatever your “blank” is, if you’re ready to be free of that shit, I'm here to walk you through. The little button at the end there is for your clicking pleasure. I’ve been there, done that, and will some day sell the T-Shirt that says:
“Dear money, I hate you. JK I love you. Not really. A little. Barely, though. Let’s try just being friends first. Coffee, sometime? You’re buying. Love, Stef.”