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Abstract

nce when people meet me in real life.I felt like the curtain behind my performance was pulled back and I was outed as the fraud I really was.This is one of my most painful wounds rooted deep in my trauma (hello, <a href="https://medium.com/the-3-in-me">Enneagram Type 3</a>).<h1 id="4a62">It was so painful that a part of me was trying to convince me to just end it all.</h1>I didn’t think this pain was something I could overcome. These knots in my stomach, the cold, bloodless feeling in my face and chest…it was all too familiar and I am kidding myself to think I’ll ever heal this.“The pain will never end,” the suicidal part of me said, “It will always hurt this much.”<h1 id="1f7f">So I did that thing I learned to do in these situations even though I REALLY don’t want to do it.</h1>I reached out to my support group.I texted my friends and boyfriend saying I am having a hard time and asking to chat.I got an emergency session with my coach. (She told me this w

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as going to be an important story I would tell later in my life that would really help someone else — and, welp, here we are.)I called my mom. She was like, “Umm, something just came in the mail for you and I think you really need to come over and get it today.”It was a small framed photo that was a random gift from the company I bought my curtains from earlier that year. In big, cosmic letters it said, “Begin again.”<h1 id="2028">So that’s what I do now when a part of me wants to end the pain by ending it all.</h1>I begin again.Turns out, the pain does end. And it doesn’t always hurt so much.In fact, every area of my life gets better every single time I begin again.Failure is only the beginning of a better, truer life.PS — I am a coach who helps survivors of narcissistic abuse find confidence in their true self and create a happy relationship. To learn more, <a href="https://calendly.com/jordin-james/chemistry">let’s talk</a>!</article></body>

What To Do When You Fail

Failure doesn’t have to be the end. In fact, it’s only the beginning.

Earlier this year, I was putting so much pressure on myself during coaching enrollment calls that I actually started dissociating on one of them.

It got so bad I had to tell her what was happening. She started taking care of my emotions. I ended the call shortly after.

As soon as I got off zoom, I started bawling. The sense of failure knotted up my stomach so bad I thought I would vomit. This was one of my worst coaching fears come true — not being able to live up to my online presence when people meet me in real life.

I felt like the curtain behind my performance was pulled back and I was outed as the fraud I really was.

This is one of my most painful wounds rooted deep in my trauma (hello, Enneagram Type 3).

It was so painful that a part of me was trying to convince me to just end it all.

I didn’t think this pain was something I could overcome. These knots in my stomach, the cold, bloodless feeling in my face and chest…it was all too familiar and I am kidding myself to think I’ll ever heal this.

“The pain will never end,” the suicidal part of me said, “It will always hurt this much.”

So I did that thing I learned to do in these situations even though I REALLY don’t want to do it.

I reached out to my support group.

I texted my friends and boyfriend saying I am having a hard time and asking to chat.

I got an emergency session with my coach. (She told me this was going to be an important story I would tell later in my life that would really help someone else — and, welp, here we are.)

I called my mom. She was like, “Umm, something just came in the mail for you and I think you really need to come over and get it today.”

It was a small framed photo that was a random gift from the company I bought my curtains from earlier that year. In big, cosmic letters it said, “Begin again.”

So that’s what I do now when a part of me wants to end the pain by ending it all.

I begin again.

Turns out, the pain does end. And it doesn’t always hurt so much.

In fact, every area of my life gets better every single time I begin again.

Failure is only the beginning of a better, truer life.

PS — I am a coach who helps survivors of narcissistic abuse find confidence in their true self and create a happy relationship. To learn more, let’s talk!