On February 7 I’ll release Free Spirited, my memoir about Teal’s death, my profound connection to her in the Afterlife and the healing that came as a result. Here is an excerpt from Chapter 15, recounting lessons learned, And guidance received.

Whole Foods seemed an unlikely place to have a denouement. Yet, here I was, sipping my cold brew in the homey little café, and doing my best to evolve. 

Once again, I was working on a critical step in my financial recovery work, examining my character defects, seeing what they cost me, and taking responsibility for them, one by one.

The questions my recovery work gave me to journal about pulled no punches. 

Where in your life have you made material things most important? Where have you used people to get ahead? Where have you been controlling or needy? 

And the worst one of all: How has this affected your life and your relationships? 

It was slow work answering these questions. But it was also critical work because this was the stuff I avoided thinking about. Yet, it was also the sludge that weighed me down, the toxic gray matter that silently suffocated. To know it was to heal it. 

I worked along, sipping my coffee and taking my time. One by one, I cataloged the moments in my life that filled me with shame. Calling up banks in a panic, or ranting at tellers like a loose cannon. Wildly overcharging for my coaching work in search of money and validation. And pushing, needling, and cajoling everyone around me to serve my agenda and mine alone. 

It was the German Soldier catalog. As usual. 

I thought about my son when he was six years old, bounding up to my office after he got home from school, a little blond guy bursting with love and eager to play. Instead of taking a twenty- minute break to have some fun, I would tell him firmly, “Mommy has to work now. You can be in my office but only if you do your homework.” 

The fact was Mommy was just a little too self-important back then to show her son the kindness and love he deserved on those weekday afternoons. I could have taken a half-hour break to spend time with him, but I didn’t. It was a habit that now filled me with shame. 

And I remembered a conversation with Teal, when she asked me for a pair of new shoes for her work as a barista. “I’m on my feet all day, Mom. These aren’t going to cut it,” she said, pointing to the worn-out Keds she always wore. At this point, her cheap canvas sneakers were barely holding together. 

Instead of embracing the chance to be supportive and give my daughter some new shoes, I hesitated. I told her I wasn’t sure I could afford it. 

“Mom,” she said, looking me square in the face. “You make plenty of money and you certainly can afford it.” 

I knew she was right, of course. Just as I knew ‘I can’t afford it’ was a weirdly frequent refrain in my life. Even when I was earning hundreds of thousands of dollars every year. Even when the rational part of my brain knew it wasn’t true. 

Then there was my wild overspending on my business. Going through the books made me shake my head. $18,000 for an audio crew in the back of a workshop for 100 people. $5,000 for a wardrobe consultant to make me look ‘professional.’ What in God’s name had I been thinking? It’s only money, I told myself at the time. 

Before recovery, a fog of oblivion descended on me when I thought about my money. Rather than check my bank balances, I’d guess at them, honestly believing I had a second sense that knew exactly how much I had in the bank at any given time. Such vagueness meant I could spend money however and whenever I wished, without apparent consequences. Except for the part that there always were consequences—bad ones. This habit kept me mired in debt throughout my adult life. 

At the same time, I’d overworked compulsively as well, with a relentless, driven pace that burned through reasonable time. When I was working, I demanded miracles from myself, instantly or at the very latest overnight. I expected the same from my assistants, which explained why I’d cycled through eight of them in six years. 

The list of my transgressions was long and gnarly. Still, it felt good to finally face them and write them all down. For now I could begin to understand what drove these habits. And I could take responsibility where I’d caused harm, make my amends, and so forgive myself. Just as God already had. 

I stirred my coffee as I sat there in the café, mulling over my list. 

In the end, all of it had been motivated by need. The need to be special, to be perfect. To be seen by the world. My appetite for recognition was voracious, and I stopped at nothing to get it…even ignoring my children’s needs. 

Finally I could see how relentlessly driven I had been. 

I looked out the window of Whole Foods to Bay Street, taking a breather from the insights that now fell like dominos in front of me. My eyes fell on the billboard affixed to the building directly across the street. It nearly took my breath away. 

You don’t need to be famous to be unforgettable, the billboard read. 

In the picture, an adult and a child were bent in concentration together over a project. 

No, Suzanne, you don’t need to be famous. Nor do you need to be perfect, be a star or be anything other than what you are right now. The fact is, you can just breathe and relax into the gift of this life. 

Then you can approach the rest of the world with all the love that’s in your heart. You can find your way back to right service, helping people however you are meant to. And you don’t have to worry for one minute about whether you are known, or not known, or have done the job perfectly. 

Yet again, Teal’s message came back to me. You are enough, just as you are, Suzanne. 

Just be.

******

From Free Spirited. (Out in paperback, ebook and audiobook on Feb. 7)

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