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Posts Tagged ‘Inspired Action’

I’m the Author of Glorious Me, My Journey on the Path to Self Love.

I coach people who are blocked by fear how to take inspired action and find their true purpose in life.

When I was 4 1/2 a friend and I were playing in a vacant corner lot in Vancouver that had recently been sprayed with pesticide by city workers to control weeds. As a result, I contracted acute blast cell leukemia and was given 6 months to live.

I stayed in the hospital for 37 days. During this time I received over 100 blood transfusions and one of several bone marrow transplants. Finally, my skeletal body lay comatose, shrouded in ice cold sheets in an effort to reduce the 106 degree fever. A minister was brought in to perform Last Rights as I was not expected to live through the night. To everyone’s surprise, I survived the night and was sent home to die as nothing more could be done for me.

While lying on the couch watching television evangelist, Oral Roberts, on our black and white RCA television, something happened. He proclaimed that if I believed that Jesus healed then I would be healed too, “For it’s by faith that you are healed,” he said. So I put my hand toward the TV and believed what Oral Roberts, Jesus and the Bible said.

I credit this with saving my life. I am the 1st person in Canada to reach the 5 year milestone after experimental bone marrow transplantation. The odds of my being alive today are 1/200 million.

At age 5, I developed double mumps…twice, which created intense pressure in my ears and blew out my right eardrum causing me to be profoundly deaf in that ear. My dad always grumbled “You can hear what you want to hear” but he was wrong.

A year later, our mother abandoned us as moved to Ontario to start a new life. Had I not been sick, dad would not have had a reason to blame me for causing the breakup of our family. In my mind I grew to believe that he must be right, that I was “just a stupid fucking bitch who would never amount to anything”. His anger created a gnawing resignation and a hopeless insecurity from not being loved, heard or understood.

But it was the kind words of Mrs. James that gave me strength when I had none. One day when I was five, I was at the hospital for my routine blood work and noticed a large wicker basket full of shiny red apples on the counter at the reception desk. I wanted one of those apples, so I stood on my tip toes and tried to reach, but due to my height, was unable. From the other side of the counter, a woman’s brown hand, gave me an apple. “Here you go,” she said in a soft voice. It was Mrs. James; she was from Jamaica. She added, “You know, we never saw a kid with such a strong will to live.” I nodded in agreement, even though I wasn’t sure what those words meant.

On the one hand I was a stupid fucking bitch and on the other I was a kid with a strong will. The voice of my father continued to haunt me for the next 30 years, while the words of Mrs. James gave me strength.

I was an outpatient until age 16. All of my friends in the hospital died. I asked questions, “Where were they, where did they go?” “What was wrong with me when I was little?” and I always got the same answer. “I’ll tell you when you get older.”  But I never got an answer and this big secret was kept from me…until I discovered the truth about myself when I was 14.

One afternoon during summer holidays, I was sitting on the end of my bed when I felt compelled to open the closet door in my bedroom. Immediately, I got up, opened the door and stood there momentarily as if waiting for instructions. Without skipping a beat, an imaginary force took hold of my left wrist and thrust it into an inside pocket of Dad’s suit jacket, which was hanging on a nail in the closet. I felt something and pulled it out of the jacket pocket. Then, sitting on the edge of the bed, I carefully unfolded two newspaper articles, and started reading them. Both were about kids who had leukemia and the odds of survival: ZERO.

Then it hit me. I immediately fell back on the bed and sobbed uncontrollably for the next two hours.

Now I knew what the big secret was. It was not a matter of IF I was going to die, but WHEN.

I had two options. I could either believe in myself…or I could die.

So I blazed my own path and sought the answers I was looking for.

“You faced death at an early age, that’s why you’re not afraid of taking risks.” At least that’s what some people have told me. For me, taking risks was the easy part; I was just trying to keep from dying.

In order to gain confidence, you must take the risk. Confidence doesn’t just happen once in your life and then you have it for good. It must be exercised like any other muscle and it must be nurtured in order for it to grow.

You can’t imagine how many people think if only they had confidence and then their lives would change. But confidence doesn’t come first. Risk does.

So what’s the secret to building confidence? You must take risks in order to learn how to count on yourself. Believe me, the feelings you experience can be scary because fear tells us that no risk is worth it, yet, feeling your feelings is an important ingredient in being true to yourself. You can’t just sit back and wait for confidence to happen. You must go for it, and then confidence is the result. There’s only one way to build confidence and that is to do the thing you fear.”

 

 

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