“To have that sense of one’s intrinsic worth… is potentially to have everything.” -Joan Didion
I used to cry on Sunday nights.
When I was 29, my roommate, Scooby, and I had a Sunday tradition. We’d wake up in our house on Balboa Island in Newport Beach and head up the freeway, through the traffic on the 405, past Santa Monica and up Highway 1 to Malibu. The drive is breath-taking, and as we’d inch closer to Duke’s and Paradise Cove, with the waves crashing to our left and the sun beaming through the windshield, everything we loathed or feared just fell away.
We’d spend the day with friends, laughing, drinking, playing hard… and then sober up and make the two-hour drive home through Sunday night traffic. It was always nearly bedtime when we’d walk through the front door. And by the time I had my face washed and my head on the pillow, the tears would begin.
I hated my job as a marketing executive in the financial industry. I’d worked my ass off to make it to the very corner office I dreaded. I hated the suits and the shackles and the rules and the pressure and the politics and the nonsense. Most of all, though, I hated that I couldn’t be myself. I was a loose cannon. A ticking time bomb. And I always knew, as I’d lie there on Sunday nights with tears streaming down my face, that it wouldn’t be long before my time was up.
And I was right.
Within five years I was married to the love of my life with a new baby boy and a business of my own that was just beginning to boom. And for the first ten years or so, I loved the shit out of that agency. I loved the freedom and the resourcefulness, the high-level problem solving and the client strategy sessions, the talented team of up-and-comers and the magnificent things they’d create.
But as time went by, the Sunday night tears returned. Only this time, I was nearly 49. And the sobs were born not from pressure, but from weariness. Not from shackles, but from choices that had run their course. On Sunday nights I cried because I saw an endless stream of Mondays before me, each one becoming less powerful and less productive than the one before.
I cried because I was through my prime… and my time was up. Because I wanted more, but I couldn’t even say what that looked like.
As I think about it now, it seems absurd.
Because now I know that this is PrimeTime.
Because I’ve built a new business and brand to support the size of my POTENTIAL.
And because I’ve unpacked the world’s most beautiful gift: a life that’s built from HEART and SOUL.
It’s Sunday afternoon, and I’m on fire. The San Diego sun is shining and Groove Armada is playing on the stereo. Diego the big, fat wonder-dog is lying next to me as I plan my upcoming week. And while I’m prepping for my client appointments and the interviews I’ll give, for my masterclass on Wednesday and live workshop on Thursday, I can’t help but think how LUCKY I am to get to do what I LOVE. How motivated I am to help PrimeTime women see their own potential. How TURNED ON I am by watching my clients break through and step up and ROCK their own worlds.
So look, my friend… If Sunday nights make you weary, or teary, or pissed off and resentful… meet me on Wednesday at my FREE LIVE TRAINING.
I’ll show you what it means to live and work from HEART and SOUL.
I’ll show you how to build a brand and business to support the size of YOUR potential.
I’ll show you what to do when you feel like your time is up, and you’re ready for more but you don’t even know what the hell that looks like.
And I’ll show you how to put the FUNDAY back in SUNDAY.
Meet me HERE on Wednesday. Because this is your PrimeTime, Baby. And you are everything.
Straight from the heart,
Juju
