April 15, 2010

you, less than

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[Today’s guest post comes from Pam Slim.]

You, Less Than.

I still remem­ber the smell of damp ivy from a recent rain as I stood in the back­yard, wai­ting for my Dad to take my picture.

It was 1971 and I was five years old. I was wea­ring a brightly colo­red knit vest, a pre­sent from my grandma. I tied my shoes myself, but was not totally sure I had them on the right feet. It didn’t mat­ter. I was one power­ful little girl. The Cham­pion of the World.

My Dad smi­led at me, squin­ting his eyes as he crouched behind the camera. I was safe, che­rished and loved. He snap­ped the picture.

Things blew up after that, rather quickly.

My Dad left home and his marriage, to find him­self. That’s what peo­ple did in the 1970’s in Marin County, California.

My world of family din­ners and Dr. Seuss bed­time sto­ries in my Dad’s lap ended. It was scary, unfa­mi­liar, off-balance.

The way I had known myself: child of happy parents, mem­ber of a “nor­mal” family was no longer.

I spent a lot of time trying to figure out who I was. I tried to be a per­fect stu­dent. And when that got to be too much, I inha­led, a lot. In my twen­ties I fell into a treache­rous lover’s arms and paid dearly with a bro­ken heart and woun­ded soul.

I found mar­tial arts, self-employment and writing.

And one day in a box full of old family pho­to­graphs, I found the picture.

Hol­ding the yello­wed edges in my hands, I remem­be­red who I was. I felt who I was. Who I had always been, except when I forgot.

Cir­cums­tan­ces can cause you to ques­tion who you are.

A boss wri­tes you a stin­ging per­for­mance review.

A rea­der lea­ves a bit­ter com­ment on your blog post.

A vocal audience mem­ber ques­tions your autho­rity in the middle of your presentation.

A publisher sends back your trea­su­red manusc­ript with a crass note.

A spouse bera­tes your manhood, or womanhood.

And you go from You, The Cham­pion of the World to

You, less than.

You, squashed.

You, angry and off-balance.

You, the misfit.

You, the fuck up.

When you fall into this deep pit of treachery and des­pair, you need something to pull you out. An image, a word, a note. It helps when this object reflects both the love you have for your­self as well as the love someone has for you.

Like a pic­ture of you through your parent’s eyes.

Or a note from an impas­sio­ned rea­der who loved the piece that you loved to write.
Or a rock from a beach that was so beau­ti­ful you could swear that the sand was kis­sing your feet.

You, less than, is a lie.

Remem­ber who you are.

[Pamela Slim is an author and coach. You can find her at Escape From Cubicle Nation.]

[The “Remem­ber Who You Are” archive is here.]

[Down­load the high-res “Remem­ber Who You Are” pos­ter here.]

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121 Responses to “you, less than”

  1. Love this post. Thanks Pam/Hugh :)

  2. This came at exactly the right time. Thanks for this.…

  3. Crystal says:

    Wow, Pam. Why is that whe­ne­ver I get my most frus­tra­ted and stran­ded and lost, you’re there poin­ting the way? And nud­ging me a bit in the ass to get going.

    *mwah* You’re a trea­sure. Hugh’s cool, too.

  4. Barb Black says:

    I’m sit­ting here very nearly speech­less and in tears. Trust me, it takes a lot for that to hap­pen when I’m in front of the com­pu­ter. Thank you — this is beau­ti­ful… and timeless.

  5. Coach T.I.A says:

    Gosh Pam, that gave me goo­se­bumps! Beau­ti­fully said — You are enough. Thank you! :)
    Tia @TiaSparkles

  6. Oh my god, Pam. The brought tears to my eyes. I some­ti­mes won­der if we have to go through such pain to embrace such total beauty and love. I hope not, but it seems that way sometimes.

  7. badmsm says:

    We always feel bet­ter when we look at our­sel­ves –and others– through the eyes of uncon­di­tio­nal love and acceptance.

    Great post!

  8. Wow. Wow. Wow. Count me as one brand new rea­der who loved this piece you must have loved to write because it’s so fully from the heart and soul, and of truths that will reso­nate with so many. Though it sucks when you’re stuck in the muck, those who get out bet­ter and brigh­ter can see the gifts in all that chaos. I often say to audien­ces, “We’re all bro­ken. Isn’t that great!?” Thanks for being so open and honest in sha­ring your bro­ken pie­ces and how you’ve put them back together to create the best, real you.

  9. Julie says:

    Pam, This is such a per­so­nal, yet uni­ver­sal, story. You’ve given heart and soul to it, with this beau­ti­ful pic­ture of you in your vest, loo­king back at your father with such love. This remin­der is timely. I think I’ll go look for that spe­cial picture…I know just which one.
    Julie

  10. takes my breath away pam.
    echoes so much of my now. and what i’ve star­ted defen­ding more. oh to bottle up that les­son and give it to every 5yr old. tx @christinekane for twee­ting this post. thank you pam for wri­ting it and @gapingvoid for sha­ring it here.

  11. I was in my last crappy cor­po­rate job and allo­wing my boss to bully me. I of course did what any grown woman would do, ran to her mommy. She loo­ked right at me and said, “Remem­ber who you are.” It was one of those defi­ning life moments. I did remem­ber. Now that boss knows who I am too. And it’s not a woman who allows her­self to be bullied.

    Loved this post Pam and exce­llent use of the word fuck. ;-)

    xoxo

  12. This was beau­ti­ful. I can’t wait to share it. It’s sad how the bad things stick around for too long and we for­get our true story. It’s easy to get lost in a mis­pla­ced cri­ti­cism. Thanks, Pam (and Hugh), for the reminder.

  13. Pam, that was awesome.

    That is all.

  14. patois says:

    I need such a rock. Wow. Now if I could only find it.

  15. Really moving Pam! You are my hero!

  16. Pamela Slim says:

    Thank you sooo much ever­yone for your kind words! Now I am the one with tears. :)

    It is easy to for­get who we are, isn’t it? Even when we have been there all along. :)

    Thanks so much for invi­ting me to your blog Hugh, it is a great honor for me as a long-time fan of your work.

  17. Mark says:

    Pam -

    Just when I think things are totally cliched & we are simply trying to reph­rase & rew­rite the same story you come across pure inspiration.

    Thank you for sha­ring pure art.

  18. Gosh. That overwhel­med me. Wow.

    Thanks.

  19. Jesse says:

    Pam, I’m sen­ding the five year old you, and the current you, a genuine hug. I was there, too. My dad left the same year. I was nine, a little older than you, but I would have pla­yed with you on the playground.

    Thanks for wri­ting this.

  20. Scott Webb says:

    Really!

    This is exactly why I had to leave one of the big­gest banks in Canada.

    I remem­be­red who I am.

    One line near the end, mixed with the photo at the top remin­ded me of “the crea­tive habit” by Twyla Tharp. She does an exer­cise with an old photo of her as a child.

  21. I love this post almost as much as I love you. I have always seen you for the World Cham­pion you are,bright-intelligent– beau­ti­ful and enga­ging.. and I am so proud to be your friend.

    Desi­ree

  22. Andrew Lightheart says:

    Well, there’s my early mor­ning cry over, anyway.

    Lovely, Pam.

    (that’s as long a com­ment as I wan­ted to leave, but the sys­tem tells me it was too short, so here’s some more text. *shoots a ‘seriously?’ look* )

  23. I little more of me has hea­led. Thank you Pam. Natalie

  24. […] If you feel beat up and need a good lift, please read this note by @pamslim April 16, 2010 by Igna­cio Go on, please. Read it. Click right here. […]

  25. Katie Lance says:

    Beau­ti­ful and so touching. Thank you for sha­ring something so per­so­nal yet we can all relate to it.

    Just added star­ted follo­wing you on Twit­ter. Thanks again

    Katie

  26. Andy Pels says:

    I have been trying for half an hour to write a fit­ting com­ment. I give up.

    I love the poetry and direct­ness of this, and I love you, Pam (you know how I mean).

    Andy

  27. Dale says:

    Just beau­ti­ful, it’s so easy to look at this pic­ture and think how cute, what a crea­tive little girl. Thanks for filling in the ‘won­der what hap­pe­ned?” part… I laughed on the outside and inside my sto­mach cur­led up.

  28. Thank you Pam, we nee­ded this today — Dr. Rae for The Baum Group

  29. Elena says:

    Wow Pam,

    This was truly mag­ni­fi­cent wri­ting. I have tears in my eyes.

    You are my heroine for always remin­ding me that “I am enough” and to go out there and just do it! (Wha­te­ver “it” may be).

    Hugs
    Elena

  30. Amanda Wang says:

    love this pam. thank you, i really nee­ded this today. the more i get to know you the more you rock. best, amanda

  31. Lynn says:

    I’ve been known to print out par­ti­cu­larly moving and bri­lliant blog posts that I never want to for­get — but it doesn’t hap­pen all that often. I couldn’t hit “print” on this one fast enough. You know that fee­ling you get when you don’t just hear or read truth, but FEEL it on your skin and in your veins? That “coming home” fee­ling? This one gave me that, and it felt so very pea­ce­ful. Thank you, Pam.

  32. Damn, that is such a power­ful mes­sage and deli­ve­red in such a power­ful way too!

    Thanks Pam for wri­ting this. It cut through the heart and really spoke to me, and to many others obviously.

    Ama­zing wri­ting. Great to see you in that photo too! I can totally recog­nize that spunkiness!

    P.S. I also found mar­tial arts and self employ­ment… and booya!

  33. You. Pam Slim. More than, Amazing.

    WHAT a breath-taking post. Thank you… for being YOU.

  34. Abso­lu­tely stun­ning! Thank you.

  35. danielle says:

    very timely. just as i was going through a bout of ques­tio­ning who i am and my capa­bi­li­ties, hence worth… thks for the words, they strengthe­ned my inner man.

  36. Diane Hunter says:

    Wow. Power­fully writ­ten. You con­ti­nue to blow me away with your con­nec­tion to truth. You are Pam and I am Diane and I’m in love with both. :) Damn, I’m in love with all of you! You’re all amazing!

  37. What a fabu­lous post, Pam. Thanks for remin­ding me who I am. Not less than, always enough, and just right — me.

  38. Remem­be­ring who I am actually led me to leave my father…or at least not follow him when he left us a cou­ple years ago. You would think that it wouldn’t hurt so much when you are all grown up, but it still does.

    Until recently, I thought I was dis­co­ve­ring who I was. Now I rea­lize that I am remem­be­ring who I am.

    Thank you for sha­ring this with us.

  39. shanna says:

    pam and hugh! two of my fave peo­ple :)

    pam, thank you for this. this gets to the heart of the ina­de­qua­cies most of us have felt, or feel, from time to time. this exter­nal pres­sure and cri­ti­cism is des­truc­tive, but worse, it’s a false baro­me­ter of our worth. we are, all, inna­tely worthy. we are per­fect in our imperfection.

    rock on.

  40. MB says:

    Beau­ti­ful post.

  41. Bridget says:

    I like the proac­ti­ve­ness of this. Have a pic­ture ready, a rock, a let­ter.
    I have a note from my dad somewhere that says “I didn’t make junk.“
    Really nice, Pam, and I love the pic­ture too.

  42. Jo says:

    Ama­zing and beau­ti­ful post. Says so much in so few words. Thank you.

  43. Pam, that was beau­ti­ful, and right on the mark for me right now.. How true it is that we for­get who we are !!
    Thank you for that

  44. Anton says:

    Pam, this is both touching and power­ful. Thank you so much for sha­ring. I am not really sure how to con­ti­nue my day now — just feel… touched.

  45. […] You, Less Than by Pam Slim Cir­cums­tan­ces can cause you to ques­tion who you are. […]

  46. Hugh MacLeod says:

    This is awe­some, Pam. Thanks for wri­ting it!

    So cool to see so many peo­ple OBVIOUSLY grok­king it…

  47. Russ says:

    What a great post! Makes me want to dig a little dee­per to where ‘me’ lives.

  48. cinderkeys says:

    Cir­cums­tan­ces can cause us to ques­tion who we are. Some­ti­mes that’s because events or peo­ple cons­pire to make us feel less than. Other times they demand things of us that we’re not used to.

    Say you’re a wri­ter, very dis­ci­pli­ned, and you spend a mini­mum of four hours a day holed up in your study, prac­ti­cing your craft.

    That’s exem­plary beha­vior for a writer.

    But wait. Let’s say you’re married now, with two kids under the age of three. Now it’s not so easy to get four hours a day to your­self. Now you have to decide bet­ween neglec­ting your family and neglec­ting your art.

    Either way, you feel like you must be less than. The irony is that you’re less than because you’re beco­ming more than. You’re trying to grow your­self to ful­fill life’s new demands.

  49. Flora says:

    Oh. Pam, you moved me. I cried. How beau­ti­ful. Thank you (and Hugh too).

    You look exactly the same in that pic at 5 as you do now. x

  50. Rose says:

    I love this piece you’re written.

  51. Chris Lee says:

    Such a great pic­ture! And such a great post. Pam rocks…

  52. Dan Morelle says:

    ROAR!
    Are you coming out to play?

  53. Roy says:

    I sup­pose we all need to hear this mes­sage, perhaps daily, but I am thank­ful to you for this post today because I have a friend who so des­pe­ra­tely needs to hear this. This friend’s spouse recently con­fron­ted with news of a lover and filed for divorce within days. They have two chil­dren, one of whom has Down Syndrome.

  54. Laura says:

    Speech­less. And had very much nee­ded to read this mes­sage, right now.

    Impec­ca­ble timing, power­ful words.

    Thank you.

  55. Jason Terry says:

    Lovely. Thank you for your honesty and sha­ring. Lovely.

  56. Bill Thurman says:

    thank you, Pam! won­der­ful and uni­ver­sal
    story. a great mes­sage for peo­ple who try to build and create their own lives
    based on who they really are. I love that phrase, “Escape from Cubicle Nation”. that is really good! :)

  57. dennis derby says:

    Thanks for sha­ring this with all of us Pam, it is great wri­ting and a gift to ever­yone who gets to see it. I’m lucky because I met Derek Sivers in Lon­don UK and he hel­ped me show my new songs and poetry to the world. Den­nis Derby, peace and love!

  58. Trece says:

    Thank you for making me cry, first thing in the mor­ning. I am married to someone who makes me daily feel less than. I’m not sure I ever saw that before.

  59. Lori says:

    Very awe­some post. We too often let other peo­ple deter­mine our self worth.

  60. I am truly inspired…inspired to remem­ber things that unin­ten­tio­nally have been for­got­ten. Remin­ded that there were impor­tant moments that deserve to be remem­be­red, sto­red away with all the pain­ful memo­ries that seem to flood and over­come when childhood times pop into cons­cious­ness. Thanks Pam…

  61. Mel says:

    Thank you.

    This hits home in so many ways, and is so help­ful. Thank you.

  62. Gabriella says:

    Direct. Wrenching. Loving. Thank you.

  63. Darrel Davis says:

    What a beau­ti­ful and per­fectly writ­ten piece. Thank you.

  64. Jennifer says:

    “And you go from You, The Cham­pion of the World to You, less than.”

    Stun­ning. And heartbreaking.

    Thank you.

  65. Beth Andrus says:

    Wow! What an honest, ins­pi­ring post. Thanks for sha­ring, and revea­ling what’s inside all of us.

  66. Eric says:

    Thank you.

  67. Such a spe­cial gift you’ve sha­red — and a remin­der of how, in a split unplan­ned second, the world can be chan­ged — by ama­zing elo­quence! So glad I stum­bled upon your post — I will become a follo­wer. THANK YOU!

  68. Thank you for this post. It hit me hard, because, as a per­son who has spent a lot of years wri­ting adver­ti­sing, being taken down a few notches is a daily occu­rrence. Worse, I actually wor­ked for someone who LIKED taking me down a few notches. Every day. A few times a day. Anyhooo, I fina lly suf­fe­red a brain injury (for real)and remem­be­red who I am. It’s a cons­tant strug­gle and your post hel­ped. Thank you again.

    Jeff

  69. Pam,

    tears are welling up…you’re right, I need to find my remin­ders and keep them near by.

    Thank you for bra­vely sha­ring this piece.

  70. Pam, you are simply ama­zing. Thank you so much for sha­ring your amazing-ness with all of us!

    xoxo.

  71. Wow, does this reso­nate with my week. Thank you to a friend for direc­ting me toy your blog. After 30 plus suc­cess­ful years in my pro­fes­sion, my skills and talents as a desig­ner were ques­tio­ned by a poten­tial client. Thanks for a posi­tive refo­cus direc­ted to my most impor­tant cri­tic and fan — myself.

  72. LOVE LOVE LOVE this! This is the age it seems riiight before many of us begni to be squashed. We do an exer­cise where we have ever­yone think of objects/images they loved at this time period– 5 – 9 years.……it always seems to cause a huge ah– ha moment. We still love those things but have told our­sel­ves we can­not have them.
    Oh yes you can.
    You are ama­zing.
    Thank you Pam(:

  73. Ricardo Diaz says:

    It’s so obvious, it some­ti­mes bears repea­ting. Posi­tive > nega­tive, always. Thanks :)

  74. Peg Calvario says:

    Well writ­ten and much nee­ded in today’s world. Thank you!!

  75. Saw you over at Tippy Toe Diet.. this is ama­zing!!!!! Thank you!

  76. Thank you, what a fan­tas­tic remin­der! So nee­ded to hear that today!

  77. I love this, Pam! I stum­bled across an old pic­ture last year and had the same reve­la­tion! It is very life chan­ging to see your­self the way you were before everything else happened.

    I’m glad that I saw in my news feed on face­book that you had pos­ted this!

    Here’s mine if you wan­ted to take a peak:

    http://extraordinaryintheordinary.com/2009/07/the-mirror-has-two-faces/

  78. […] PIF (the con­tro­lling group behind Igni­tePhx), ASU and those close to both are now bor­de­ring on insa­nity. It’s time to call it quits.You are so awe­some, you get all my posts for free. Click on my […]

  79. Diana Wanamaker says:

    Just what I nee­ded to hear! What a won­der­ful read! Didn’t know if I should cry or laugh. Straight from the heart to the heart.

  80. Melissa says:

    Beau­ti­ful. A gem of wis­dom. It’s so easy to get bea­ten down, so hard to remem­ber, some­ti­mes, who you are.

    Thanks for the reminder.

  81. Beau­ti­ful post. Thank you for this. I nee­ded it today.

  82. Cathy says:

    A friend on Face­book pos­ted a link to your piece. Beau­ti­ful. You are awesome!

  83. […] and won­der­fully I found this gem.. Pos­sibly rela­ted posts: (auto­ma­ti­cally generated)Cultural ties with Georgia11/4: Lec­ture on […]

  84. A client sent me to your post after a par­ti­cu­larly power­ful ses­sion. Quite a com­pli­ment, actually.

    The thing is — those trig­gers only hve the power to send you into the depths of des­pair if they con­nect to a belief you already have. Shift your beliefs and you unhook those triggers.

    Yes, having things/people/places that help you out of the des­pair pit (my sis­ter and my name for it) once you’re there, that’s really impor­tant. But if you don’t unhook those beliefs, the des­pair pit will always lurk like a trap just around the corner.

  85. Well said, Pam. Love your words and picture.

  86. Dana says:

    Thank you. Thank you.

  87. Duncan says:

    Spot on for where I am at pre­sently, pretty much sucks, nee­ding that point of focus to who I am.

  88. June Malone says:

    Hugh sure knows how to pick his guest bloggers!

    Thank you for deftly put­ting into words what we all need to be remin­ded of — because we all go through it and lose our­sel­ves from time to time.

  89. Fiona Purdy says:

    Thank you Pamela. I am going to print this out, save it and read it often, so I don’t ever forget.

  90. Kathleen says:

    It took me years of therapy…to find “me”. I did make lots of pro­gress, however…It wasn’t until I found an old photo of me at 5 or 6 yrs. old, stan­ding so proud with my Brothers,..all smi­ling and loved…that I remem­be­red Who I was…Who I am. Thanks for put­tig it into words.

  91. indre says:

    beau­ti­ful.
    i am speech­less.
    thank you!

  92. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!

  93. Rhonda says:

    Simply beau­ti­ful.

  94. A friend for­war­ded your post to me because of the simi­la­rity to one I wrote this week as well: Kin­der to a Stran­ger
    You have taken a little bit of a dif­fe­rent pers­pec­tive, but the mes­sage is abso­lu­tely the same. Love that cool photo of you in the slam­min’ vest and if we met, I’m sure I would love you too.

  95. Wow.…Perfect timing for a upco­ming visit with my folks.

  96. Mike Tinholt says:

    I was first drawn by the photo as a pho­to­grapher. Its a very good photo and when I look at it I see my own daugh­ter. Its my pra­yer that I’ll always give her the You: Cham­pion of the world.

  97. John Suhar says:

    […] April 26, 2010 tags: Derek Sivers by john­suhar (Whoa.) Remem­ber who you are: http://gapingvoid.com/2010/04/15/you-less-than/ […]

  98. Christine says:

    Thanks Pam!

    This is such a won­der­ful post! So many peo­ple let others define them and it can take so much work to undo the brain­washing. Thanks for wri­ting this and hel­ping peo­ple remem­ber who they really are.

  99. MB says:

    I think we all need to be remin­ded of who we are from time to time. Day to day life has a way of wea­ring us down and the stress of life can be overwhel­ming. Great post! Thank you!

  100. DR MIKE COX says:

    WOW WHAT AN AWESOME ARTICLE

    EVERYONE NEEDS A LITTLE HELP REMEMBERING

    THANKS PAM

  101. […] to Jin, I dis­co­ve­red a gem of a guest post on the exce­llent Gaping­Void blog.  In “You, Less Than“, Pamela Slim pre­sents her views on fin­ding an iden­tity that is dis­tinct and true to your […]

  102. Shilpa says:

    That is so very true.Wonderful one!

  103. Andrew says:

    Too beau­ti­ful, too touching… this strong moti­va­ted suc­cess­ful 50-something alpha male is typing through tears to say thank you.

  104. Melanie says:

    Rea­ding this at 12 mid­night makes me want the mor­ning to arrive even fas­ter when I can take action and be me, more than! Thank you Pam.

  105. […] Slim (@pamslim) has a bee-oo-tee-full guest post at Gaping Void for Remem­ber Who You Are. And as much as I loved her post, something about the series nag­ged and nig­gled at the back of my […]

  106. Hardeep says:

    Pam,
    That is very power­ful. Thanks for sha­ring. In sha­ring so inti­ma­tely, your story pro­vo­kes iden­tity defi­ning memo­ries from childhood for all of us

  107. Denise Burks says:

    I have one pic­ture like that. I am pro­bably around the same age, come to think of it, or a tiny bit older. We were visi­ting a farm. The chil­dren were pla­ying “house” and I was dres­sed in a long dress and high heels. We deci­ded that we nee­ded a baby.

    Someone said, “Wouldn’t it be groovy if we could use one of the new baby pigs!” Yes. I remem­ber clearly that the word groovy was used. It was the 60’s!

    To this day I’ve never met a cha­llenge that I didn’t like so I stom­ped out to the pig yard, in my long dress and high heels and caught a “baby.”

    And that is “my picture.”

    After rea­ding Pam’s post and all of the com­ments I have a new found appre­cia­tion for the power of that image.

    Thanks for sha­ring and encou­ra­ging me to remember.

    http://successinthesuburbs.blogspot.com/2009/10/pigs-heels.html

  108. […] — Hugh Mac­Leod (via) […]

  109. Wow…Pam…I don’t think I took a breath while I read this…This is such a poig­nant sha­ring of your life…how beau­ti­ful, how touching, ins­pi­ring and melo­dic. I felt so many emo­tions rea­ding your story…you say so much in such few words — very power­ful. The pho­to­graph of you is unforgettable…you look as I see you today — happy, con­fi­dent and empo­we­red. So life took you on a 360 degree journey…might have been pain­ful, but during that time, you were “collec­ting” all that you nee­ded, in order to be who are you today, to give to the world what it needs and what you so kindly offer. Thank you for that sharing…it is simply beautiful.

  110. […] run (I said, RUN!) check it out: Pamela Slim’s: You, Less Than. I hope you enjoy it as much as I […]

  111. […] Slim (@pamslim) has a bee-oo-tee-full guest post at Gaping Void for Remem­ber Who You Are. And as much as I loved her post, something about the series nag­ged and nig­gled at the back of my […]

  112. […] when we loo­ked at our­sel­ves through the mirror of our peers and collea­gues, we felt awk­ward, less-than and not quite to par.When you view your suc­cess through someone else’s mirror:There is always […]

  113. […] point is when you tem­po­ra­rily for­get who you are, some­ti­mes a little bit of inap­pro­priate badass thin­king is just what you […]

  114. […] Slim (@pamslim) has a bee-oo-tee-full guest post at Gaping Void for Remem­ber Who You Are. And as much as I loved her post, something about the series nag­ged and nig­gled at the back of my […]

  115. […] If you only focus on big huge wins, then you miss the daily mirac­les of the work itself. Like for­mer clients who come from behind and fund their Kicks­tar­ter pro­jects with moments to spare. Or clients who work dili­gently to make a plan to leave their job and start a suc­cess­ful con­sul­ting prac­tice. Or even blog posts that make us feel proud to have writ­ten them. […]

  116. Max says:

    Wow Pam. Your authen­ti­city pier­ced through to me & brought a tear down my eye (only 1 though because I’m in public rea­ding this right now).

    I relate with your expe­rience at the age that you were at, and can con­nect with the fee­ling you felt. Thanks for sha­ring your story & ins­pi­ra­tion Pam!

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