"It's Just A Chocolate Roll" - A Lesson In Getting Back What You Put In

It is the day before Christmas Eve, and I am squashed around a table which is just too small for the purpose of housing it’s 10 occupants.

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My family has gathered at my eldest sister’s house to celebrate Christmas – nieces, nephews, sisters, in-laws and my Dad, and quite frankly the whole thing is bloody lovely (because everyone has just arrived, and no one’s pissed anyone else off yet! As much as my family love each other we are after all, human!)

 

 

My eldest sister Laura, along with her husband of forever are hosting and catering the whole three days of celebration. Casseroles, soups, roast potatoes, turkeys, ham, Quality Street, toilet roll – quite literally everything you could possibly imagine you might want or need to celebrate Christmas in Britain, my sister has provided.

 

Now I’m the sort of person who lets somebody else cater for her (who’s surprised?!)

I bring the fun and organise the games while someone else worries about when the roast parsnips need to go in the oven or how full the dishwasher is getting.

Don’t get me wrong, I help out, but catering is not my thing and I am more than happy to offer moral support to Laura in her catering endeavours.

 

Jenny, my other sister is different. She, upon hearing that there was quite literally nothing that she could bring with her “yes we have enough Gin and no we don’t need any more pickles for boxing day” pushed back and insisted that she bring something.

Okay” Laura said down the phone to her, desperately searching for something Jenny could contribute to the dinner table, “you can bring a Yule Log!”

Side note! A Yule log is a European thing – it’s basically a chocolate sponge rolled with butter icing of some description into the shape of a log and covered in chocolate to resemble, you guessed it, a log. Something to do with branches being used way back in the day to adorn a house at Yule time which now that I’m typing this sounds a lot like a Christmas tree to me but whatever the story, History I welcome your chocolate log on my desert plate.

 

And so it was that my sister Jenny was put in charge of the Yule Log for the Chadbourne Family Christmas gathering of 2018. 

Which brings us back to the dinner table the night before Christmas Eve.

We have just finished eating a beef stew prepared by Laura (which, rather impressively my youngest niece has somehow splattered in my hair. We aren’t even sat next to each other. Or near each other. Amazing!) and as the plates are cleared away, Jenny announces that we are all to wait in the lounge while she prepares dessert.

 

Obediently we pile out of the kitchen/dining room and some time passes.

And some more time.

And then some more time.

I think to myself, what the fuck is Jenny doing in there.

Laura and I exchange raised eyebrows.

We can hear sounds of bashing around, the odd muffled swear word, at one point she pops her head around the door and asks Laura where her icing sugar is, does anyone have a lighter (?) and finally, she calls us in.

Shit picture but you get the idea! I have much better photos over on my Insta account!  emily_thatcrazythingcalledlife  You should follow me!

Shit picture but you get the idea! I have much better photos over on my Insta account! emily_thatcrazythingcalledlife You should follow me!

And bugger me! Did Jenny take that one lowly task of providing a Yule Log and make it the feature of Christmas. Music started playing as soon as we walked into the dining room (We Are The Champions by Queen), an electronic disco ball (which I suspect she bought especially for the occasion) lit up the walls and there on the dining room table surrounded by tea lights and glitter was a Yule Log, three flares exploding from the top. Chocolate snowmen and reindeer acted as pillars to the silver cake stand that the Yule Log was perched on, like an offering to the Gods.

Want to see for yourself? Check out the video here (and please SUBSCRIBE to my channel!)

 You get what you give. What you put into things is what you get out of them. - Jennifer Lopez

Here’s the thing about life. There are parts of it at times that seem unadventurous, even plain. Like something as simple as a chocolate sponge, rolled and covered in chocolate. Simple. Boring. Dull, even. But what we bring to life, what we decide to adorn life with, how we attack it, how much love and excitement we bring to our life day to day has a massive impact on the experience we have. My sister reminded me of that. She could have walked into Laura’s house and reached into a Tesco’s (Coles) bag and pulled out a standard oversized, overpriced mini roll (which is really all a Yule Log is). And we’d have eaten it. But it wouldn’t have brought the fun and delight and ceremony that she insisted on adding to this seemingly mundane dessert. It’s not what you put on the table but how you put there that counts. Thanks for the reminder Jen, that life is totally and utterly, what you make it.

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And as always, a share of this blog will get you a free pass into heaven and will change your DNA so you can eat chocolate cake every day and you’ll actually lose weight. Just kidding! But you might help someone else out and you’ll be helping me share the message of hope, happiness and love.

Thank you very much for reading.

Em x

Why "New Year, New Me" Can Go Fuck Itself!

Truth be told I ate too many Quality Street over Christmas.

And mince pies.

And all of it.

I just ate all of it.

No regrets it was bloody glorious.

But yesterday I dragged my wobblier-than-normal ass back to the gym. And fuck me, it was awful. Not because of the squats or the music (why do they play such obnoxious music in gyms? Answers on a postcard please!) but because it was full of the New Year New Me Brigade (NYNMB).

You know them and maybe you’re even one of them, I know I sure as heck used to be.

Follow me on Insta to see some of my top UNASHAMEDLY HUMAN moments!  emily_thatcrazythingcalledlife

Follow me on Insta to see some of my top UNASHAMEDLY HUMAN moments! emily_thatcrazythingcalledlife

The NYNMB are not normal gym goers. They are brand spanking new to the gym floor and enthusiastic beyond belief, going hard at weights they can’t lift properly, telling themselves they’re never drinking on a school night ever again not even for Caz’s birthday next Wednesday and pretending that the lettuce leaf they ate for lunch filled them right up!

They are driven into a new way of being on a wave of hysteria, flimsy resolution and some jacked up hope that as the calendar flicked over to a new year, some cellular neurology shifted and they’re now “new” and so capable of harvesting “new” results instantly.

But guess where the vast majority of the NYNMB are, come February 7th?

Yep, sitting on the sofa having retired their Lycra, their meal plans and their enthusiasm claiming “the diet starts on Monday”.

It’s a cycle as predictable as the ocean and it doesn’t stop at gyms.

Healthy eating, getting to work on time, only drinking 3 drinks on any given night out, leaving Kev for the last and final time, calling Gran more regularly, remembering birthdays, relaxing more, working harder, being kinder, meditating more – the list goes on and in all honesty towards the end of 2018 I too caught my inner narrative saying “next year I’ll…”.

But guess what!

At the stroke of midnight (unless you’re Cinder-fucking-ella or very, very high) no Fairy Godmother waved her magic wand and you, me, Kev and the rest of the world was no different.

Yet, we make a resolution to change our behaviour overnight and often to real extremities, shocking our systems, minds and identities into meltdown which ultimately sees us sitting back on the sofa with Kev, ignoring calls from Gran whose birthday might have been yesterday and whoops there goes another year!

In the quick fix society which impresses the need for instant results, a new year’s resolution is an attractive idea. It promises that future You will mop up current You’s mess and so it’s okay to excuse current You’s shitty behaviour, sloppy effort and crappy results.

It’s a dangerous myth and leads to inaction, disappointment and destructive behaviour.

In other words, new year’s resolutions don’t work, the magic pill you’re seeking doesn’t exist and yes I do still think Kev is a royal prick!

Well now I’ve painted that bleak picture for you, let me extend some hope.

5 Keys To Changing Habits And Getting Results

1.       It doesn’t happen overnight. 

Not for me, not for you, not for Oprah (which is a good thing because if Oprah is not blessed with superpowers and she’s just a regular human like you and me, anything is possible for us).

2.       The only difference between something happening and something not happening is doing it.

So don’t put anything off until tomorrow, don’t start the diet on Monday and stop wasting time like you’re here forever. Every single moment is an opportunity to make something new happen, to think a different thought, to do the thing that scares the shit out of you and continually reinvent yourself.

3.       Resistance is normal.

Start listening to your feelings but don’t accept them. Excuses, procrastination and comparison weave together in an elegant cloth that fear uses to cloak itself. Most of us feel this ickyness and assume it’s weakness, defeat or warning and allow it to pull us back into our regular routine and habitual ways of being. Push through it.

Override those voices. Seek evidence of success. Learn lessons. Be compassionate to your soul. Seek guidance and support. Surround yourself with others who are taking massive fucking action and achieving results.

You can’t always change your first thought but be sure to take ownership of your second thought.

4.       Make sure the change you want is for you, and not what others think, want or expect for you.

This is a skill. And it’s okay to fuck it up.

5.       You’ll fuck it up.

It’s inevitable. You’re human. But just because you skipped a gym session and had a bottle of wine on Wednesday night at Caz’s birthday drinks doesn’t mean you throw your hands up to the sky and sit in your cloak of fear until the dawn of a new year. Get back up. Or nothing will change.

If you want to know more about how I help my clients transform their lives, relationships and business by taking charge of their mindset then you’re in luck!

Every Wednesday at 11am I am LIVE on Facebook answering your questions about love, life and business. Follow me here to catch the next one.

You can have my weekly blogs emailed to you by signing up here and check out my YouTube channel for more videos here (subscribe if you love it).

For next level change, check out my next LIVE MASTERCLASS event in Melbourne here and join my FREE Facebook group here for FREE LIVE courses with me personally.

As always I’d love you forever if you gave this a share and please leave a comment – conversations are so much more interesting than me just ranting on so let me know your thoughts.

Thank you very much for reading, Em x

 

Why Goal Setting Doesn't Work

This is an adaptation of a blog I guest wrote for Jemimah Ashleigh - Positioning Expert. You can find her HERE and I highly suggest you check out her work if you are an entrepreneur!

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Ah the end of a year and the promise of a brand new fresh one where you’ll wake up on the morning of the 1st January and instantly become the newer, more focused, committed and all round better version of yourself, as if the stroke of midnight that delivers you from one year into the next has the power of a Fairy Godmother.

It’s also that time of year when, as an entrepreneur my newsfeed is filled with offers of free downloadable goal setting pdfs offering guaranteed results for the coming year. Like an Adobe file is in charge of my business success! Please!

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Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying goal setting doesn’t work or that it’s as stupid as Aunt Joan’s reindeer Christmas jumper (seriously Joan, every year!) but spending an entire afternoon filling out big scary goals in the hope that they’ll magically manifest with enough hustle is a bit like promising yourself that as of January 1st you’ll religiously hit the gym 5 mornings a week and never ever ever drink booze on a weeknight again. Honey it ain’t gonna happen.

Again, let me be clear. I’m not saying don’t set goals or don’t make them fucking huge – I set some astronomical goals at the beginning of this year and smashed them. But not because I wrote down some figures on a piece of paper or prettied up a year planner with my mission statement. I smashed my goals because I put my mindset first and foremost. Setting goals, having a strategy and planning ahead will only ever be actually executed by those who have sorted their shit out first.

Mindset isn’t about connecting to your WHY (although important) or making it about others (equally important) and nor is it about, and I quote, ‘getting juicy’ about your desires (so gross right? I actually saw that in a sponsored ad. “GET JUICY ABOUT YOUR GOALS”. Stop. Just stop.) 

It’s about having the balls to go deep into the dirty bits of your mind so you can hold a mirror up to your ego, your bullshit and your fear.

It’s about meeting yourself at the corner of your mind where usually you shut off, shut down or block up.

It’s about forging through and exposing yourself to yourself without judgment or ridicule.

Mindset is about asking yourself the deeper questions; not about where you want to be in a years’ time but who you’re scared of being now, what you’re scared of losing along the way and how much you’re willing to surrender to the unknown.

Mindset is about commanding the forgotten part of your brain that prefers to hide away, humming quietly in the background of your day, softly self-sabotaging, gently pulling you away from your dreams with elegant excuses and procrastination.

Not actually Joan. Just a stock image. Also Joan isn’t a real person. But if she were, she’d look like this.

Not actually Joan. Just a stock image. Also Joan isn’t a real person. But if she were, she’d look like this.

Here’s the cold hard truth (like I’d give you anything else) most businesses fail. According to my extensive Google search for real life stats (sarcasm) 50% of you reading this won’t be in business by the time Aunt Joan dons her reindeer Christmas jumper yet again in 2019 (no more Joan! The fabric’s wearing away at the elbows, the reindeer lost its pom-pom nose in the Christmas pudding fire of 2007 and frankly it smells a bit like cat piss. Buy a new fucking Christmas jumper!).

If, like Joan you know you could do with changing things up, let me give you some stark differences between traditional goal setting and nailing mindset.

 

1.       Goal setting is about making promises to yourself. Mindset is about building trust with yourself.

Promises are easily broken (because you’re human) but trust yourself and even if you don’t fulfil the promise of making $47 000 by February, you won’t give up.

2.       Goal setting is about being S.M.A.R.T. Mindset is about being brave

(which often means doing unS.M.A.R.T things).

 

3.       Goal setting is about structure. Mindset is about faith.

The reality is, the universe has its own plan. And often it gives few fucks about your pen and paper goals. When weird shit happens you must have faith that it’s for a reason (sometimes greater than you) or you’ll give up, proclaiming that ‘circumstances outside your control’ brought your business down. When you have faith and your structure gets blown apart, you’ll be okay.

 

4.       Goal setting is about feeling secure. Mindset is about making friends with fear.

We’d all love to know what’s gonna happen when in 2019. Love it we would! But business (if you’re doing it right) means saying yes before we feel ready. It means taking chances and going off plan when the universe presents an opportunity that wasn’t mapped out in your Typo wall planner. And yeah, that’s scary as hell. Refer to point 1.

 

5.       Goal setting is listing what you need to do. Mindset is figuring out who you need to be.

Massive. Fucking. Difference.

 

Again, let me be clear that I’m not saying you should free ball business and blindly go into next year without a plan. Don’t be a dick. But what I am saying is that if you think writing down your goals assures them, well, you’re a dick.

So, what steps should you take to master your mindset and so smash your 2019 goals? Well as an early Christmas present, I’ve given you my top 5 strategies. You’re welcome.

1.       Get a coach.

Do not do business alone, life is not a solo sport so get someone on your side who can call you on your own bullshit. I have three spots open for my business mentoring program starting mid-Jan. Email emily@emilychadbourne.com for more information.

2.       Work out your own bullshit!

This looks like doing work around what you believe to be true (how hard or easy it is to make money, how much or little you deserve success etc.)

3.       Learn about manifestation.

And not the crap most coaches are plugging on social media. We’ll have none of you ‘The Secret’ bullshit here thank you. I mean learn about frequencies and cellular codes which are unconsciously guiding you. If you’re interested in this then come and learn more in my FREE courses over in my Facebook group, That Crazy Thing Called Life.

4.        Find your tribe.

And I’m not talking about Aunt Joan. I mean people who think in the way I’ve just detailed. People who believe that vulnerability is power. People who never fail but learn a better way often and quickly. People who have already done what you strive to do so you know that it’s possible. Learn from these people. Observe their behaviours, habits and mindset and model the fuck out them. Ask them questions. Stalk them (just kidding). You can join my tribe HERE!

5.       Set goals.

I’m not even being cute and funny (although I am both of those things). The truth is without goals you’ll flop along and get nothing done. But remember, without mindset you’ll never smash your goals.

For weekly blogs straight to your inbox, sign up HERE!

And from Wednesday 9th Jan 2019 I will be LIVE EVERY WEDNESDAY (typed in caps so you know I mean it) at 11am from my Facebook page (like and follow HERE) and simultaneously on Insta (follow me emily_thatcrazythingcalledlife HERE). This weekly live will be your chance to ask me anything on love, life and business, same time, same place every single week! And if you miss one, all good. You can watch the edited highlights on my Youtube channel Emily Chadbourne, subscribe HERE!

How To Cope At Christmas When Life Feels Fucking Awful

I am sat on a train (hard) whilst I type this blog which is to be published on Christmas eve of 2018.

Follow me on  Insta emily_thatcrazythingcalledlife  for day to day hilarity on my stories (more funny than this example I promise!)

Follow me on Insta emily_thatcrazythingcalledlife for day to day hilarity on my stories (more funny than this example I promise!)

Two stops ago some teenager walked past me leaving a cloud of hormones and Lynx Africa in his wake. After I caught my breath (why do they still produce Lynx Africa? It wasn’t great in the 80’s and it sure as shit doesn’t smell any better almost 4 decades on!) the smell jolted me back to my own teenage years and as I slip through the countryside, inching closer and closer to London, my friends and my family, I travel inside my mind too, up and down the timeline of my life, memories real and imagined that have been pieced together to create my history.

Memories of last Christmas spent alone, without the money in my account to buy a plane ticket home to my family. Sad and heartbroken in the wake of my ex partner leaving and swirling in a cloud of grief following the death of my Mum. I was utterly exhausted by life. It seems so far removed from this year; how much can change in such a short time.

This year, I’ve been asked in various ways by many of you how to survive Christmas when life feels like it taken a really big shit right on top of you.

Maybe you’re facing your first Christmas after the death of a loved one.

Maybe you’ve recently had your heart broken or your trust betrayed and you’re still trying to catch your breath and make sense of it all.

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Maybe you’re wondering how the hell you’re going to pay rent in January or just feeling dejected, alone and very very sad.

And I get it.

That was me on the eve of Christmas day last year.

So what did I do? How did I get through it and what did I do to change it?

 

Getting Through it.

  1. Know this. Nothing is permanent. This day will end. This feeling will transcend into something different. This situation will resolve. It won’t be like this forever. Just keep breathing. This too shall pass and all that.

  2. Be around love. Last year I spent the day with friends eating prawns and slowly boiling from the inside out in 35 degree Australian heat and although it wasn’t like being with my family, it did keep me out of my own head (which was a dark place of martyrdom).

    Originally I had wanted to ignore the whole day and at one point conjured a plan to drive down the coast solo.

    Luckily my Dad and my mates persuaded me that this was a truly fucking terrible idea born from victimhood and Hollywood imagery.

    They were right. I am not Eat, Pray, Love! and trying to show the world how upset I was by making myself more upset wasn’t going to impress anyone.

    So accept that invite from your cousin Jan or from your mates Caz and Daz and make the best of the day. Manage expectation because no, it’s not going to be the Christmas you’re used to but you can’t change that right now so don’t cut off your nose to spite your own face.

  3. Be kind to yourself. 

    And I don’t mean treat yourself to another glass of wine. I did that all day every day this time last year and it did not end well. I mean nourish your body, seek help for your soul, gently exercise your body and allow yourself the grace and time to heal. Surround yourself with good people (join my FREE community HERE) and stop resisting what has happened. In my experience, the pain is in the resistance so accept what is and then use this time to build your strength so you can start exercising your free will and creating your new future.

 

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Changing It

  1. Exercise your free will. You can either be the victim of your own life or be the victor of it. For more on this, check out this blog HERE.

  2. Find someone who you resonate with and lives the type of life you want to live. Then ask them how they went about it. What did they do? How did they choose to behave? What did they choose to believe? How did they forgive, heal, move on, change their reality?

    Life is not a solo sport and if you run onto the pitch alone you will lose.

    I have a team of amazing mentors and coaches who have helped me sort my shit out so that in the space of one short year I am now surrounded by more love, money and happiness than ever before.

    If you want to join my tribe, I have one spot left in my group coaching program starting Jan 4th (2019). Email me at emily@emilychadbourne.com for more info and one of my team will be in touch to arrange a chat with me personally.

  3. Connect to how you want it to be.

    So often in life when everything feels hard and like it’s all going wrong, it can become very easy to fixate on problem.

    What we focus on grows in this world so start engaging with how you want life to be. In the same way a whiff of Lynx Africa can time travel me back 2 decades, I also have the mental power to time travel forward in time, connecting to the future version of me (who knows all the answers).

    If this sounds all a bit woo woo and mental, I get it. I used to think it was all a load of shit too but then a coach of mine introduced me to a specific type of visualisation which changed my world. It helped me connect with the version of me who was living the life of my dreams and helped me make resourceful decisions.

    As a very special Christmas gift, I am offering you this powerful visualisation. I’m not even asking for an email address. I’m literally just giving you the link (but do feel free to subscribe – cheeky!) because I know how much this exercise changed my life and I want to give you the same gift.

Listen HERE.

 

So, if you’re struggling this Christmas please remember that everything can change in such a short period of time.

This time last year, I shared some of the powerful lessons 2017 had brought me in a Facebook live – you can watch it HERE.

Even then I knew that I would come through the dark tunnel, I just had to hold on.

So please, do the same.

Life is a truly beautiful thing.

Keep believing and if you need any additional support, here are some useful numbers.

If you’re in the UK text 741741 when you are feeling depressed or suicidal, a crisis worker will text you back immediately and continue to text with you. Lifeline Australia: 13 11 14 and Beyond Blue: 1300 224 636

Merry Christmas, Em x

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A Christmas Message - Emily Style!

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Christmas! It’s the most wonderful time of the year! But let’s be honest it can also be extremely stressful and ridiculously expensive.

Two days ago I landed back in England (please, be colder. And wetter. And darker. And… sarcasm) with a suitcase full of gifts which my nieces and nephews definitely don’t need but I’m hoping want enough to love me more as a result of receiving them.

Am I buying their love. Sure. I guess so.

Do I give a shit? Hell no. LOVE ME!

Let’s cut the crap here, we all live in a capitalist, materialistic world where we’re told things amount to happiness (except they don’t).

And I am no exception. I’d love to sit outside of my ego and tell you that I am so enlightened that I have no need for material possessions and find my worthiness from within at all times but I’d be a massive whopping liar. I’m messy and scrappy and unashamedly human, just like you.

So truth be told, I also believe the late night infomercial (my guilty obsession) when it subliminally convinces me that the Wonder Mop 2000 will make me a domestic Goddess and therefore, more appealing to the opposite sex because let’s get real, we all want to be loved.

I too fall into the trap of believing that I’ll automatically be part of the cool kid gang (a residual need left over from the popularity contest that was my high school experience) if I just sacrifice paying my electricity bill to clothe myself in Beyoncé’s latest range of horrendously overpriced sportswear.

I am also manipulated into spending more than I need to at Christmas on gifts for those I love because when it comes down to it, I assume that the more shit there is to unwrap, the more love I communicate and therefore receive.

Photo by Maria Tyutina from Pexels

Photo by Maria Tyutina from Pexels

Thankfully, in amongst all of this materialistic noise, my sisters and I were once taught a lesson which cut through this bullshit and remains one of my most precious gifts.

Whenever the frenzy of buying and wrapping and giving gets too much, I come back to this Christmas memory and hope that in sharing it with you dear reader, you too will be reminded that no one in your immediate family or extended friendship group needs yet another scented candle from the homeware department of Target to be assured of your love for them. Shall we?

 The Best Gift EVER!

Christmas was a big deal in my childhood home and Father Christmas came religiously, way past his recommended rate of attendance.

My favourite visit was his last, because he bought with him a teaching that will be with me forever and one I endeavour to hand down to my nieces and nephews.

I was 20 years old and my eldest sister was to be married the following year. My parents (in cahoots with Father Christmas) decided that this was a sign that Santa’s annual visits to us were at an end.

So in the December of 2001, my sisters and I gathered at my parents’ house for one final stocking.

Christmas morning arrived, and my Mother’s voice rang throughout the house.

Me and my sisters opening our Christmas stockings in our parents room, circa 1987. That hair. Those jumpers. We were so cool.

Me and my sisters opening our Christmas stockings in our parents room, circa 1987. That hair. Those jumpers. We were so cool.

“Has he been? Has he been?”

Three (pretty hung over) sisters traipsed down stairs to find three seemingly empty stockings hanging in front of the fire, in fact, the only full ones belonged to my (now) brother-in-laws!

All Christmas cheer flew out the window, and we raced to my parents to demand an explanation.

Upon closer inspection, there was of course a gift inside.

A card from an aid charity telling us we had… Goats! One for each of us, named with our respective nicknames, Pudding, Flops and Bod.

These goats had been bequeathed to families in developing countries so they could provide milk for them in times of hardship.

And then there was the poem.

My family love a good poem and every year Father Christmas would leave us one. We loved them and they became as exciting as the gifts themselves.

In his last ever poem, Father Christmas marvelled at how we’d grown and how he’d miss visiting us. And then in perfect iambic pentameter he explained that this year he’d given us gifts in the true spirit of Christmas. Gifts that were far more precious than our standard stocking fillers, gifts that would enrich the lives of others, gifts that reflected the women we had become.

Actual copy of one of the verses from the last poem Father Christmas left us!

Actual copy of one of the verses from the last poem Father Christmas left us!

That year, I learnt that to give to those in need is a gift in itself.

We don’t need ‘stuff’ to be shown love.

Love is expressed through the contribution to the lives of others.

It’s a formidable force, invisible and unmeasurable yet so powerful in its ability to create a joy far greater than any material possession can provide.

This year I’ll be passing on this Christmas gift from my parents (I mean Santa!) and on Christmas morning when my nieces and nephews open one gift each from me instead of seven, I’ll let them know it’s because I gave a donation to charity so that other children somewhere else in this world can be fed on Christmas day.

I’ll make sure they know that part of their Christmas gift is helping another child feel loved.

And love is the most precious gift of all.

So this year, wherever you are in the world, show some love.

Reach out to those in need, donate to those less fortunate than you, show your fellow men and women that you care and that they matter.

Demonstrate to the next generation that love isn’t found inside a Harry Potter Lego Hogwarts Train Set, but inside your heart.

Show them that plastic toys won’t make their lives complete, but contribution will.

The funny thing about love is, the more you give, the more you get back and I think the world could do with a bit more of it.

He’s a clever chap that Santa.

Merry Christmas.

Em x

For more love, head to my famous Facebook group That Crazy Thing Called Life - join for FREE HERE.

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Follow me on Facey HERE to watch my LIVES (coming weekly every Wednesday at 11 am Melbs time from Jan 9th 2019!)

And subscribe HERE to my Youtube channel for weekly videos about love, life and business.

 

The Biggest Money Block (that's stopping you attracting your worth)

Ah Christmas! I must admit I’m feeling zero festive cheer right now because as I write this in Melbourne it is 785 degrees Celsius outside (shut up I don’t exaggerate you do!).

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My air con is trying and failing to keep the temperature inside bearable and as a British chick, I am used to being colder than a snowman’s testicles at this time of year.

This is my seventh year of living down under and I will never, ever get used to hearing Mariah’s shrill notes sing out festive cheer as the mercury rises and my sweat patches rage out of control.

In just a few days I’ll be heading back to the UK for two weeks of Christmas family time and I can’t wait. It will be my third trip back to England this year – something I couldn’t have even imagined would be possible for me last year.

Me, being able to afford to fly to my loved ones three times in one year? And still pay my bills? And still operate my business so it actually generates even more money as I sit on my sister’s sofa?

And it hasn’t just been the UK I’ve been able to visit this year (this isn’t a brag, stay with me as I demonstrate what is possible for you). Sri Lanka, Bali, Malaysia and France have all been stamps in my passport this year. But how?

Money Blocks!

Three years ago I was waiting tables for $20 an hour with massive credit card debt I was adulating all over by totally ignoring (sarcasm).

After some more adulating (more sarcasm) that didn’t work out (surprisingly) I came to the stark realisation that no one was going to come along and offer me the ultimate job in farrrrrsshhon because I was not in fact Rachel Greene from the totally fictitious Friends sitcom, nor was an unknown Aunt called Barbara or Joan going to die and leave me £1.835 million and a slightly run down but delightful stately home in the Cotswolds.

I had to change some shit up!

Very long story and a whole world of mindset work later and I started my own coaching business. And it worked. My clients got results, I made enough money to walk away from hospitality and I was officially registered for GST (which basically means giving heaps more money to the Government in taxes. Adulting is hard sometimes!)

But I could never accumulate wealth. I never had enough. I never was enough. Money came inconsistently.

My debt lingered (okay, accumulated interest) and I always felt on edge with cash flow. Business was hard. It felt like I was doing all the right things. I had strategies in place that should be working but nothing seemed to be flowing.

Honestly, this time last year going home for Christmas wasn’t an option – I couldn’t afford it.

 So what changed?

Did Aunt Joan finally die, swiftly followed by Aunt Babs?

No.

Did Ralph Lauren finally call?

No.

I found the people who made making money and building wealth look easy and I asked them what the fuck they did.

And then I did that.

As a mindset coach, I knew that the problem wasn’t money but the frequency I held around it (very basic translation = what I believed to be true about money). And guess what I discovered? Yep, the people I was learning from who made making money look easy had amazing beliefs around money.

So I did the work, committed to the process and voilà! Shit changed. Quickly.

This month for the first time ever, I am teaching what I learnt to my membership group Spiritual Gangsters. (Not a member yet? Membership opens again in March 2019. To be the first to hear about it join my FREE group That Crazy Thing Called Life, here).

 

Last week I set the members a powerful exercise to help them uncover their unconscious beliefs (or frequency) around money.

And today as I was reading though the comments in the group my brain saw a pattern so glaringly obvious it could’ve been the bloody star of Bethlehem.

 

Almost every comment started with the words Money makes people…

Money makes people greedy.

Money makes people fight.

Money makes people evil.

Like money is a central character in Mean Girls (the best movie of all time ever).

And this got me thinking about movies (stay with me).

One of my all-time favourite Christmas stories is A Christmas Carol and because I’m well cultured and shit, I like the Muppets version the best.

Let’s look the central character Scrooge. He starts out as a mean dickhead of a human. His unhappiness is palpable and he sits on his wealth, guarding it in a wall of misery. Boo!

Every musical movie has one shit song.

Every musical movie has one shit song.

11 excellent songs and one shit one later (that love song from Scrooge’s Christmas Past is so when I get up for a pee) and Scrooge is suddenly transformed into a kind, generous and giving soul, sharing his wealth with cripples and mice and generally emanating happiness. Bravo!

But here’s the thing. Money didn’t make Scrooge a tight asshole. Fear, loneliness and unworthiness made him an asshole and money magnified that.

Equally, money didn’t make Scrooge kind.

Love, compassion and connection made him kind and money magnified that.

 Be rich in the inside because money is a magnificent magnifier. Money will magnify that which is within you. -Bo Sanchez

So next week, as I unashamedly bribe my nieces and nephews to watch A Muppets Christmas Carol with me I’ll be sure to remind them that money isn’t about being good or bad.

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Money is a magnifier which we stand in front of.

So if you are kind, money will help you spread that kindness to more people.

If you are selfish, you have more to be selfish over. 

I will remind them that good people don’t have to be poor and that those who know their worth ask for it.

But mostly, I will remind them that love is priceless.

And then they’ll whine and moan about how much I bang on about loving them and I won’t stop. Not for a second.

Because for them to know their worth is the greatest gift I could give them.

For more about beliefs around money, check out my YouTube video These 5 Beliefs About Money Are Keeping You Broke which lands on Thursday (subscribe here to make sure you don’t miss it).

And if you are in business and want more consistency with cash flow next year OR want to break through your next financial level and can’t, hit me up.

I’m opening up 6 spots in my Business Mentoring Program and I’ll be teaching in depth everything I have learnt about changing money frequencies as well as strategy and the mindset you need to get out of your own way and do great things for this world.

Contact emily@emilychadbourne.com for more info and a member of my team will get back to you to tee up a time for us to speak personally.

If you’re not in business but you want to know more then I will be including this as a new module in my group coaching program starting Jan 4th. Spots are capped at 20 and only 7 remain so please be quick! Email me emily@emilychadbourne.com and feel free to check out this 2 min video to see what amazing transformations other women have experienced from working through my program this year.

As for this blog, what did you love? Let me know because a conversation is always much more interesting and please feel free to share it like Christmas cheer with all your mates. For weekly blogs straight to your inbox, subscribe here and thanks very much for reading.

Em x

 

 

 

It's Okay For You Because... The Inconvenient Truth

It is 1.47am exactly and the sat-nav cheerily informs me that I have another 39 minutes until I reach my destination. I want to punch it.

And I want to pee.

Real bad.

But pulling over would add another 7 minutes onto my arrival time, pushing my ‘fall into bed’ time dangerously close to 3am. So I exercise my pelvic floor and try to think about anything else.

The sheer volume of rain against the windscreen isn’t helping. Water water everywhere. This is not a pleasant drive.

Follow me on Insta for some #unashamedlyhuman action emily_thatcrazythingcalledlife

Follow me on Insta for some #unashamedlyhuman action emily_thatcrazythingcalledlife

I’ve always been slightly scared of the noise of a windscreen wiper fighting against a torrent of rain. Some childhood nightmare I assume, still clinging to a part of my adult brain and convincing my neural pathways that the swish swish swish signals danger danger danger.

It doesn’t.

I’m fine.

I’m a confident driver, even late at night in the dark, alone and in a storm.

But truth be told, this drive is very inconvenient.

I’d rather not be doing it.

The radio doesn’t help.

Smooth fm (because I’m old) is way too smooth and every other station seems to have been taken over by some Gen-whatever-comes-after-Z foetus.

Teeny-bopper music my Mum would’ve called it.

I am acutely aware that teeny-bopper music is now what I call it.

Well played Mum, well played.

The windscreen fogs up suddenly.

Why now?

I’ve been driving for an hour and a half ffs!

What sorcery is this? And how do I make it stop?

How is it that just as I am about to congratulate myself on my supreme adultness, a situation like this comes along and I am reminded that at 37, I still don’t know which fan setting de-mists my windscreen.

Oh life, always keeping me humble!

After much adult swearing I figure it out and regain vision, settling back into the journey. I reflect on my day and this blog comes together in my mind.

My inconvenient day!

I was up inconveniently early to get to the gym. Would I have rather stayed in bed on a Saturday morning? Hell yes! I’m human.

Then I ran a live online masterclass which inconveniently clashed with a brunch some mates arranged. But you can’t be in two places at once (although I feel like Elon Musk should be solving that problem anytime now).

Then I rushed to my friend’s house for a Secret Santa Christmas party. I had to leave early, inconveniently before the food was served.

I drove for over 2 hours down to Lorne (pretty coastal town in Victoria) to speak at an amazing event that my friend and inspiration Emeli Paulo and her team, The Collective Potential organised (ya’ll should check her out here).

As I got nearer I began to feel the feels that come along with public speaking (am I actually going to shit myself tho?) and had to work really hard at managing my self-talk so I didn’t turn the car around and head back to the safety of Melbourne.

The voice of self-doubt is an inconvenient one.

After my talk the 60 strong group of attendees and I were invited to go on a surprise mission (it sounded fun). Armed with torches and water and with dusk falling and rain threatening, we traipsed to the coast line and climbed over rocks at the water’s edge until we all began to regret the decision. It was getting cold. Our footing was unstable. For a while, it stopped being fun.

It was uncomfortable and inconvenient.

Eventually, we reached a huge cave, blazing in the light of hundreds of candles, lit by the team of Collective Potential who had forged ahead.

images (23).jpg

It was quite simply the most breathtaking thing I had ever seen.

Walking into the cave, a sense of calm, peace and unity flooded every part of my being. It had all been worth it.

The trek back to camp was equally inconvenient and the rain started to fall. The reward? Bed as the clock struck midnight. But not for me. I had to inconveniently drive back to Melbourne for an inconveniently early morning Sunday meeting.

An inconvenient end

Which is how I ended up here, now 27 minutes from home and still busting for a pee.

Here’s the truth you rarely hear. Making your dreams happen is really inconvenient. It takes sacrifice, being uncomfortable, doing the things you don’t always want to do. In short, it fucking sucks.

When I first went into business for myself, I romanticised what entrepreneurship looked like. I’d heard it was tough, but I imagined it would be tough like a movie montage tough. You know, Rocky music and snap shots of me looking off wistfully into the distance as I persevered and looked more like Jennifer Anderson than my actual self.

Turns out, it’s just fucking hard. And I just look like me.

Last week, before this blog formed in my mind I did a Facebook Live which caused quite a stir. I’d had a 24-hour period of people saying in various ways about various things “It’s okay for you because…” and it pissed me off. You can watch all 8 minutes of it here.

Then, on Saturday’s drive down to Lorne I was listening to an interview with motivational speaker Lisa Nichols. She was speaking about her rise from broke single parent to global speaker, multi-millionaire and CEO of “Motivating The Masses”. She said quite simply, “I was willing to be inconvenienced for my convictions.

And boom, there it was.

“I was willing to be inconvenienced for my convictions”

Not, “I did the stuff that felt good”, or “I showed up when it suited me”.

She did the shit that wasn’t convenient when others didn’t. That’s the difference.

 

Some of you will be reading this thinking, “yes but it’s okay for you because...” Seriously. Watch the video.

I learnt early on in business that I didn’t get to make other people special so that I could stand in my excuses.

I didn’t get to assume others had a greatness so that I could live in the absence of mine.

I didn’t get to compare the best chapter of someone else’s career against the epilogue of mine.

It’s not easier for me because...

Honestly, it’s inconvenient as hell.

But every day, I get messages from people thanking me for having the balls to post, film and document the reality of what it is to be human. So the inconvenience is worth it.

Every day I am one step closer to my mission, to my goal, to my dream. So the inconvenience is worth it.

Follow me on Insat emily_thatcrazythingcalledlife

Follow me on Insat emily_thatcrazythingcalledlife

Every day I am faced with the option to do the comfortable thing. Or the inconvenient thing. Guess which one I choose.

I see so many women who use “it’s okay for you because..” as an excuse not to be brilliant. They’re not willing to be inconvenienced so they make others exceptional as a way to stay safe.

You want to do that personal development course so you can learn to love yourself again? You might need to go through the inconvenience of using some of your precious savings, or suspending your Netflix, Spotify, gym (which you never use anyway because Saturday morning lie ins are more comfortable) and wine club membership subscriptions for a month.  You might need to come home from work and listen to a webinar, meditate and sit in self-reflection with a journal to sort your shit out. Inconvenient when MasterChef is on the telly I know! And many aren’t willing to pay that price. In which case rock on, enjoy your results. But you don’t get to make me or anyone else special so you can conveniently stay ordinary like it’s not your choice.

As someone who spent the first 3 decades of her life choosing convenience, I can promise you that your dreams are worth being inconvenienced for.

If you want to know more, applications are now open for my transformative 8-week group coaching program for women who are ready to put down their excuses and shine in love, life and business. Ask me how - emily@emilychadbourne.com

If this has touched a nerve, good. It means you’re ready to take some responsibility. Read more about this here. If you hate every word I’ve written, just move on. We’re all good.

Thank you very much for reading.

Em x

PS for weekly blogs straight into your inbox, subscribe here.

FREE courses here.

Stalk me here! (not literally!)

 

Things I Wish I Knew Then (that I have to remind myself of now)

Things I Wish I Knew Then

Last week, my phone and I fell out.

The little fucker had done that thing where it worked perfectly in every way except one. The battery.

images (22).jpg

Yep, seeing 100% battery on the screen meant as much as hearing your Tinder date say he’d definitely call you – a bunch of bullshit; an empty promise and a very short future.

Now, I don’t sleep with my phone in my room.

Call me crazy but I have a theory that my mind is my most powerful commodity and so I’m pretty precious about the first and last thing I expose it to on a daily basis.

Keeping my self-esteem above the water is hard enough without ending my day scrolling through Instagram and comparing my squidgy ass to the rock hard heiny of an Insta-model.

But Em” I hear you cry, “why do you follow these Insta-models in the first place?”

Because I’m fucking human okay?

And what is Instagram for if not for coveting a world you don’t have. Filtered or not.

Also funny bitches hang out on Instagram. (emily_thatcrazythingcalledlife Just sayin!)

Anyway, last week my 1980’s battery powered, obnoxious alarm clock went off and up I got.

Magic morning mindset ritual done

(Want to know what that looks like? Check out this short video and SUBSCRIBE for weekly videos)

I made a coffee and sat down to work, unplugging my fully charged phone as I did so.

A quick scroll through social media and it dropped by 21%. My daily morning phone chat with my bestie and we lost another 27%. Updating my Audible app when I didn’t ask it to and I wave bye-bye to another 17%. Fuck. It’s not even 10am and already I’m sitting at 35% battery. Another 6% and I’m in the uncomfortable zone. Only a further 10% and it is time to be nervous about leaving the house without a charger.

AdobeStock_56863820.jpeg

And then it hits me.

I have a landline situation on my hands.

I can’t leave the house without a charger.

I can’t make a phone call without being plugged in.

My mobile phone lost its mobile.  

Not cool.

So I did what I always do in such situations.

Called my mate who makes all technological issues better for me.

And sure enough, he had a backup phone which, although not new, definitely had a longer battery life than my current piece of shit.

Now this is the part of the story I can’t explain because my knowledge of how phones work is limited to ‘battery full/battery not.’

But in the swap over of apps, widgets and things my beloved ‘notes’ app got taken out in a wave of collateral.

Not the worst, but for me, not the best.

I couldn’t bitch at my mate. He’d done me a solid favour.

But as he said the words ‘factory reset’ of my old phone when I asked him hopefully if I could retrieve my brain farts, I knew it was over.

Two years of musings, witty one liners and ideas gone.

And no Smartass, I didn’t backup my phone to my laptop okay.

Never.

Not once have I ever done that.

I’m a fool who thought little people walked up the wires in the back of the telly to appear on screen until she was 9.

Backing up is something a Tinder date who’s never going to call you again asks you to do, not a way to safe-guard the contents of one’s phone.

 

As always in life, we have a choice.

I could bitch and moan about the loss of my ‘notes’ app or get the fuck over it and try to pen out from my brain that which I could remember.

As I did so, I realised that many of the words, sentences and thoughts that remained in the memory of my mind began to take the shape of a list of things I wish I’d known in my younger years.

It seems as I’ve observed and experienced my way through my mid-30’s I’ve collated a sort of rhetoric that the 20’s version of me could’ve done with.

As it took form, I began to wonder if the list needed to be shared. Maybe in some fucked up way these words knew they were redundant whilst sat in the confines of an app and so clawed their way into the light one factory reset at a time. Or maybe I just panicked and remembered some shit that looks like a sharable, useful blog. Either way, here it is.

Things I Wish I Knew Then

1.   No one cares about your face. You are the only person in the world who thinks about your face. Everyone else is too busy worrying about their own face. Think about your face less.

 

2.   Always give someone a second chance. But never a third.

 

3.   When you’re a dick (and you will be a dick) make amends quickly.

 

4.   Tell people you love them. More. You can’t tell them enough.

 

5.   Failure is part of success. Fail as much as you can as quickly as you can.

 

6.   Don’t take on other people’s fear as your own.

 

7.   Compare yourself to no one but expect yourself to be great.

 

8.   You absolutely cannot pull off double denim.

 

9.   Other people’s opinions of you are none of your business.

 

10.   Likes don’t equate to sales.

 

11.   Applying winged eyeliner is meant to be hard.

 

12.   Who you were yesterday is who you were yesterday. Today, do your best.

 

13.   Invest your time, money and energy in your personal development and not in the trappings of stuff.

 

14.   Don’t use Tinder.

 

15.   You can never have enough friends or shoes.

 

16.   Never stop being curious and playful.

 

17.   What you eat has more of an effect on your mental health than you think. Avoid too much sugar, alcohol and processed shit but don’t be a righteous knob or deny yourself pleasure.

 

18.   Always buy tampons before you run out.

 

19.   You’re doing better than you think.

 

20.   Take more risks. Regret causes a painful death.

 

21.   Backup your phone (Yeah okay, I just added that one. Seems I will always have more to learn).

If you loved this blog please give it a share. If you’d like weekly writings in your inbox, subscribe here and don’t forget to join my FREE Facey group That Crazy Thing Called Life for free courses on how to human without fucking up too much.

Thank you very much for reading.

Love, Em x

That Relationship You Can't Get Out Of...

I kill things. All the time.

As you walk into my house a dead Bonsai greats you.

It’s been with me for years and I live in the deluded hop that one day it will magically resurrect itself.

Pot plants don’t stand a chance in my house and even my childhood goldfish (I called her Felicity and I loved her dearly) had a much shorter life span than my sisters fish did.

Frankly, sometimes I marvel at the very fact that I have kept myself alive for the last 37 years.

And this is why I love flowers. Because they’re meant to die. So I can’t be responsible for killing them. Everyone’s a winner! And yes of course they look pretty too.

Not me.

Not me.

But flowers mean a little more to me than that.

A few years ago when I started practicing this thing I’d heard about, called self-love, I started buying myself flowers religiously.

Every week or so, when the existing bunch started doing what they were always gonna do and die, I bought some more.

But I didn’t buy flowers because I thought that the external expression of buying flowers meant I was doing the hard work of really loving myself (for more on this have a read of this bad boy – it caused quite a stir and I regret none of itREAD HERE), but because every time I looked the flowers, I reminded myself of 2 things.

The first was that to generate self-love, I have to rock up every day as the very best partner to myself.

My relationship with me is the most important one in my world and how I treat myself is a direct example of how I expect others to treat me.

It is as much use as a fucking dead pot plant to stand around waiting for someone to come and treat me better than I’m treating myself.

 (Disclaimer – I’m a messy, scrappy human like everyone else. So of course there are moments when I’m a total dick to myself. But my point is, that flowers remind me to be nice to myself when I’m being so quick to berate, judge or hate on myself.)

Actually me.

Actually me.

The second was that nothing in this life is permanent. Flowers will bloom and be so beautiful for a time. And then they will begin to wilt and eventually die and I’ll whack them in the bin (probably a couple of days later than I should’ve chucked them out to be fair).

Nothing is forever. All we can do is appreciate the beauty of each bunch of flowers when they’re blooming and know when to let them go. Like most things in life.

 

Walking past a flower shop yesterday, I picked up some gorgeous blooms.

Recently, I seem to have bought less flowers for myself.

There has been a shit load going on for me in the last few months - grief and loss have been major players as have love and growth – life exists in polarity and so for all the hard times I have also experienced great times.

But what I realised was that in this time of high level personal growth (because growth always happens in the contrast – we don’t learn anything by shit staying the same) I’ve stopped doing this seemingly small but massively significant self-love practice.

 

And so yesterday I bought myself flowers. For me. From me.  Because the one thing I can absolutely keep alive in this lifetime, is the love I have for myself, even I can’t keep a pot plant alive for longer than 2 weeks.

 

So do yourself a favour, go buy your metaphorical flowers today and remind yourself that not only are you the most important relationship you will ever have but you’re also the only permanent relationship you’ll ever have – others will come and go. You were born with you and you will die with you. It’s impossible not to be in a relationship with yourself. So make it a fucking phenomenal one.

 Thank you very much for reading,

Em x

To have inspirational blogs dropped into your inbox weekly, subscribe here.

If you’re more of a video kinda gal (and want some excellent life and business advice) check out my channel here.

And follow me on Insta emily_thatcrazythingcalledlife

 

Why Self-Care Is dangerous (this one's punchy, even for me!)

It’s a Sunday morning and I’ve just tossed aside my phone with a kind of heaviness in my heart.

It’s HASHTAG SELFCARE SUNDAY and I hate it.

Pictures of baby-faced models with their caffeine and hemp infused face masks lying in luxurious baths full of yaks’ milk with their impossibly long legs kicking over the side in a whimsical fashion proclaiming the importance of looking after ourselves – because that’s what the world needs.

Another fucking bubble bath promoted by someone who is pushing the discount code…

Igetpaidforthis

#influencerlife

Photo by  Anita Austvika  on  Unsplash

Every week I see #selfcaresunday tagged liberally across filtered pictures of (predominantly) women’s lives and although I have nothing against a good old pamper, I draw issue with the trend.

Self-care isn’t something we should be resorting to because we’re so fucking knackered from our ‘normal’ lives.

Sneaking a glass of wine in the bath in an attempt to get away from real life or ‘treating’ ourselves to a goddamn haircut seems to me a very sad state of affairs.

Again, let me say that I have nothing against looking after myself or getting my nails done (have you ever seen me without my nails done?) but the insinuation that doing those ‘pamper’ activities constitutes self-care is dangerous and here’s why.

WARNING. HERE’S WHERE I THROW THE PUNCHES (all done with love and voiced from personal experience).

Follow me on Insta emily_thatcrazythingcalledlife

Follow me on Insta emily_thatcrazythingcalledlife

Self-care is about facing our problems instead of finding elegant ways to distract ourselves from them. It’s about having the balls to have that difficult conversation, or asserting our boundaries with a work colleague.

Self-care is about learning to say no kindly with an inner certainty that our worth is not dependent on the opinion of another. It’s about making the choice to see less of that toxic friend who revels in gossip and the misfortune of others. 

Self-care is about speaking kindly to ourselves and to others and coming from love even when it’s easier to hate. It’s about developing a practice of self-worth so we can stop looking externally for validation that we’re okay.

#selfcaresunday

Self-care isn’t about pushing yourself to have a 6 pack or starving yourself to deserve a cheat day. It has nothing to do with being glam or flicking through magazines on a Sunday when you’re frazzled out of your brain every other day of the week.

Self-care isn’t about going to the nail bar to get away from your husband or partner or housemate. It has nothing to do with having an easy life or being surrounded by luxury and shit you don’t need.

Self-care isn’t about being manipulated by consumerism (yaks milk bubble bath anyone? Use my discount code!) It has nothing to do with trying to be like someone else because secretly deep down you’d rather be a gen z influencer than your beautiful, normal fucked up self.

#selfcaresunday

Self-care is about learning and exercising a healthy disciple with yourself to get the fuck up and sort your shit out. It’s about making daily sustainable changes in lifestyle, diet and exercise to regain control to your own mental health instead of smashing back tequila shots as medicine.

Self-care is about feeling into the harder emotions of being human instead of suppressing them with food or drama or blame. It’s about growing the fuck up and parenting yourself to look your failures straight in the eye and learn from them.

Self-care is summoning the courage to change your shitty job or even take a second job to pay off the debt you’ve been ignoring. It’s putting down the role of victim and taking mother-fucking responsibility for your life, your results and your actions.

#selfcaresunday

Self-care is often hard, and rarely glamorous.

It’s making the tougher choices when an easier cop out is on the table.

Self-care is often confronting and even humbling.

It strips the ego and returns you to yourself.

Self-care isn’t easy. And it doesn’t look any prettier with a filter on it.

We can’t promote it as a quick fix cure or the latest trend.

Maybe if we could we’d have less need to sit in tepid baths of yak’s milk on a Sunday in the hope that we too might be fooled into believing we’re #livingourbestlife

Thank you very much for reading,

Love, Em x

Please share this post if it resonates. For some free courses to help you develop your self worth even more, head to my FREE Facebook group, That Crazy Thing Called Life. JOIN HERE.

How To Win The Race Of Life (or at least not crash and burn too badly)

I’m just going to come out and say this. I’m not a massive fan of the horse. Now don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against horses and wish them, nor any other living creature harm. But I just never got the whole horse thing the way some teenage girls do (I had friends who would Gymkhana every weekend but all I wanted to so was sneak off with my best mate to smoke the Marlborough Lights she’d nicked from her Mum’s ciggie packet – I was not a nice teenager.)

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How To Heal (warning, do not read if you want to stay a victim of your circumstances)

I am sitting in one of those impossibly hipster cafes where nothing has ever touched an animal and the staff are trained to know precisely fuck all. I’m glad I’m spending half a month’s rent for this culinary experience. No really. Thrilled.

I order a drink while waiting for my friend to rock up. I have no idea what possessed me to do it but I figured when in Spain (I don’t really know what that phrase means) and so I ordered a drink that contained the following ingredients in no particular order.

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A Star Is Born - and it was sad (not a movie review)

Last night, I went to the cinema with some friends to watch A Star Is Born. I had two reasons for wanting to see this film.

I hadn’t heard any film reviews, nor had I seen the three older movies of the same title.

I naively went into the movie theatre expecting a chick flick (whatever that means) and so was caught offside by the torrent of emotion that the film delivered. If you haven’t seen the film, it’s a lot.

Great. But a lot.

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12 Lessons From A House Move (and life, basically)

Moving house SUCKS!

There. I said it.

I am surrounded by boxes full of shit I didn’t miss while it was in storage.

My back hurts from lifting said boxes of shit (and age. My back also hurts from age.)

I know where nothing is (it took me 20 minutes to find a tampon yesterday. They were in a box marked “stuff” so big thanks goes out to past Me for that one) and everything feels unfamiliar.

Now, let me be clear. I am supremely grateful for my new home and acknowledge how lucky and privileged I am. But moving house has thrown up some real lessons for me and today I’m going to share some of them with you. Do with them what you will. I trust they serve.

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You Might Not Want To Read This (because you'll agree)

I'm not a graceful exerciser. 

I don't have much (any) eye hand coordination (much to the delight of my brother-in-laws) so as the room step-touches one way, I'm usually galloping the other way. I was also blessed with anti-rhythm (definition : when someone's rhythm on the dance floor is so bad that it causes others to lose their ability to dance.)  

Yep, this girl just can't keep a beat.  

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This Is Why Being Single Isn't Completely Shit, Actually.

It’s a Saturday night and I’m at a party. Albeit, my Dad’s. It is the social highlight of my European summer and I say that without a hint of my trademark sarcasm.

Yep I’m 37, single and rocking out in the back garden of my family home where over a hundred of my Dad’s friends (the fact that my own Father has more mates than me both disturbs and delights me in equal measure) have been invited to enjoy an afternoon of homemade scones (because, BRITISH) and an evening hog roast (quiche and one raised eyebrow for the only vegetarian in the room).

As a parade of guest’s meander through the party, my sisters and I find ourselves air kissing and making small talk with a variety of people we haven’t seen for a variety of years.

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How A Tray Almost Ruined My Holiday

Now, I’m not one to take life advice from a tray (although can we take a moment to appreciate how pretty I made it look with a baguette and flowers and shit).

In fact, these sorts of cutesy quotes on household objects usually shit me so it was with a snarl in my stare that I first noticed this tray in the kitchen of the house in France my family and I holidayed in last week.

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