So my sister and I both have just completed Fleur’s 8 Week Incubator program and this little part of my story will shed some light on what To Expect When You’re Incubating . It isn’t always pretty, it often involves tears and inevitably there is that moment when you go “oh fuck! I can see that NOW!”
Apart from actually confessing, admitting, realising, accepting that Incubating was more than what I needed, it was going to propel me; one of my first fears of Incubator was the buddy system.
You know what it means to have a buddy, right? You have to line up with them in class and hold their hand and their hand is probably all scaly and feels blasted like sand paper and you wonder if your hand feels the same and OMG they probably think you’re the freak.
Anyway, excuse my primary school tangent. MY buddy experience was WORSE than any of your primary school excursion to the stinking fish factory experience. My buddy experience was so bad even thinking about it now makes me feel like Kim Kardashian is standing on my chest with her 8 inch killer heels.
So the week before Incubating started, Fleur tells us that out of the six in the group, each of us will be randomly assigned a buddy. I sent my sister a message saying “Fark, I hope my buddy isn’t Demelza. I’m WAY too intimidated by her”. And she smugly replied “Well, I’m sure the universe will make her your buddy now”. I would have muttered something about her smugness. But she was right. Fleur posted in our group that Demelza was my buddy. FUCK! This person is successful, glamourous, hot, confident – in other words, everything I’m not. URGH, and then I had to go and meet her and suck up my bravery and put on my big girl pants and do it. And I had to be brave and powerful and insightful and tell her my story.
So no surprises of course that she is authenticity personified. She is a beauty and brave and funny. And our stories are similar. NO SHIT! We met our husbands overseas, sometimes the men in our lives piss us off (boobs! football!), we stuggle with family shit, we love our kids but urgh, you know, sometimes keep them the bloody hell away from me, and she is real and normal and sometimes spells words wrong (boom! Not so perfect after all!).
But the best part of course is that she (and the other gals in the group) could and would (today or anytime) wipe my tears, celebrate my wins, make suggestions of awesomeness, support me and cry for me.
I saw my buddy crying for me (and it brings tears to my eyes now). At about week 6 and I had had a particularly amazing realisation that DEPRESSION wasn’t in me anymore and Fleur asked me could I forgive myself for the past. And I looked in Demelza’s amazing blue eyes and I saw my grandmother. No shit! I saw my grandmother that I have never met. My grandma that died before I was born and who had – I’m sure – not lived her life to her full potential. And I knew that I was being loved and supported and that my future was not only in my hands but in the hands of others who want me to succeed. And that my life was more than having self doubt and pity parties. That my life was success and achievement and pride and power.
She does have pretty amazing eyes. And she is my amazing buddy. (Amazing universe and Fleur Porter providing).
What to Expecting When You’re Incubating
You have to tell the truth. Like the real truth. When you think of being Incubation, do you think of pretty little white glossy eggs under a lamp nice and being cozy and warm and safe? That’s good if you do, coz it’s not like that at all.
It’s like pulling your skin off with a vegetable peeler, but with more tears. No! It’s not. I’m being a drama queen of course, but it does make you stretch, and question, and screw your nose up a lot like you’ve just trod in dog shit, and keel over because you have just had a contraction-like stomach cramp, but it isn’t physical pain – it is pain of memories that you have let control you, even a little bit.
This is something that I have just found that I wrote in module 2 –
“I don’t love myself enough. I feel like a fraud, really. Undeserving of a husband that loves me, of two beautiful healthy children, of a complement of lovely gorgeous (if a bit nutty) friends that are loyal and kind and generous, of an amazing sister that GETS me. No matter what.
I have to let go let go let go of my negative voice in my head. I’m not going to die tomorrow. My child isn’t going to end up in a vegatative state for the next thirty years. I’m not going to have a horrific car accident.
I need to act. I need to do. I need to stop making excuses and just get shit done. Stop being afraid of what might happen and just TRY! BE BRAVE!”
So how does it feel reading that a couple of months down the track? I can say with my hand on my heart, I am being brave! I am worthy of a beautiful husband and kids! And I am also worthy of sitting here on a Sunday morning spending time writing this stuff down, instead of folding washing! It doesn’t mean I wont fold washing later, it means that this getting stuff out of me is more important than folding the washing. I’m putting myself in front of the washing basket! BOOM!
I know the moment I got it. I know where I was sitting and who was sitting next to me and how it flooded over me when Fleur told me that I was the one who was holding ME back. It was about me making excuses. “I cant afford to go on family holidays”. “My husband gets to have adventures while I’m stuck at home”. And she said to me “So, what is the truth there? Who is really stopping you from having adventures and holidays?” and I looked at her like she hadn’t heard me. “It my husband and my financial situation” I repeated in case her ears were not authentic like the rest of her. And then she tilted her head to one side and closed one eye slightly and raised her eyebrows and spoke in her gentle mother hen tone “but honey, WHO is stopping you?”.
And I got it. And it washed over me like a mud bath, cleansing and yet dirty at the same time. More of that betrayal stuff. More of that not taking responsibility stuff.
So adventures and holidays and love and honesty and truth WINS. I’m outta here people. Three nights away with my husband. Just me and him. Doesn’t mean I’m a bad parent. Doesn’t mean I’m a bad employee, doesn’t mean I’m a bad daughter or sister. It means I’m putting me and my love and my heart first. It means I’m valueing and treasuring my treasure.
Light bulb moments are awesome.
Incubation is like being attached to a power generator. Sometimes there are power surges and I feel your lights going out. But then your power gets stronger and stronger and your shine continues to blazen the way for you and your passion and your loved ones.