Meet Illana, everyone.

She and I first connected because we both believe in the power of creation.  You’ve probably heard me talk about this before, but I strongly believe that as human beings, in order to be wholly fulfilled, we’ve got to create.  Illana is right on board with that theory, as evidenced through her site, Makeness, where she brilliantly proclaims in her manifesto,

“Make something today.  Make it real.  Make it fun.  Make it good for you.  Make it good for others.  Make it well.  Make it special.  Make it unique.  Make it positive.  Make it interesting.  Make it genius.  Make it more than you ever knew you were capable of.  Make your mark.  Make greatness.”

Makes you want to throw everything to the wind and go save the world, doesn’t it?  Illana has that effect on people.  And while she’s one hell of a firecracker, she hasn’t always had it easy.  Her Fear, Exposed (click to read back issues) story serves as a reminder that no matter what the obstacle, with the right attitude, you still have the power to shine with the brilliance of a diamond.

**********************************************************************************************************

I have a different story than most.

I had two parents who spent their lives going their own way, doing their own thing, facing down their parent’s conventions, and thumbing their nose at the rat race. They raised me to be fearless, capable, and spontaneous.

I was shockingly lucky.

They supported me unconditionally, and watching their parade of impulsive life choices made me crave the opposite–boring, stable success. They knew they never had to worry about me because I was more grounded than they could ever hope to be. If I made huge leaps of faith in life, they backed me completely.

By twenty, I had travelled Europe alone, finished college, lived on my own in San Francisco, and moved to London (to get my heart broken). By twenty-two I had moved across the country to be a full time stepmom to a two-year-old that I barely knew, and shortly found solid success in my career.

Fear has never been my problem.

On the contrary, I never really knew fear until relatively recently. Before, I was always the person who closed my eyes and dove in the pool, without bothering to check and see if there was water in it.

And then something changed.

Five years ago, I was in grad school, chasing my Green MBA. I was out to change the world, and most people that knew me back then were pretty sure that I would. My nickname was Wonder Woman. I was unstoppable. I was in school full time, raising a little munchkin (and navigating stepmother-ness), and was the VP of National Sales for a fantastic little company.

I travelled for work constantly, worked until 3am every day, and woke at 6am to make animal pancakes and make sure the little one got to school with his shoes on the right feet. The whole time I was planning for what came next. I kept myself so busy that I never had time to look around at my life or myself.

I was mostly miserable, but I was too busy to notice.

I liked my reputation as the responsible one who could do it all. It’s who I had always been. And I looked great in those shiny red boots.

When the pain began, it was a pinch at first, normal lady pain, but instead of once a month, it was all the time. The gaps between good days and bad started to close, and slowly my superhuman strength started to weaken. I told no one, I just kept powering through (‘cuz I was a super-martyr like that).

My superhero persona became my secret identity, hiding the pain and utter terror I was feeling inside. I knew that I was on borrowed time, and that any day, it would all become too much to handle and my superhero tights would come apart at the seams. The funny thing was, I was more afraid of who I would be if I wasn’t Wonder Woman anymore than I was about the alarmingly sharp and fast-moving pain.

I made it through school, but was so fried by the end that I barely remember my thesis presentation. When I watch the video now, all I see is the tight jaw and clenched fists as I stood up there, using the last of my super powers to make it to the finish line; I was in so much pain I could barely breathe.

Six months later, I was unemployed, single, and petrified. I was diagnosed with endometriosis, and was told I could never have children. I had a pile of student loans and was in too much pain to hold down a regular job. Everything I held dearest about my own personal identity was gone.

I was afraid of my own reflection because I had no idea who I was anymore.

I tried my hand at consulting… and massage therapy, and floral design, and latte making… I was even an elf one year at Christmas. I am pretty sure I am the only MBA out there who has been fired for not being jolly enough. I limped along for a few years, all the while trying every possible hippie-dippie pain solution you can think of. The only real solution became surgery, but even that isn’t a permanent fix for everyone.

Eventually, I finally gave in. I gave up my homeopathic sensibilities and under the knife I went.

It worked. I was cured. I felt great. I even dusted off my star-spangled Daisy Dukes and started making plans again. Life was good.

It lasted eight months.

The pinch was small at first. Then it hit me like a hurricane, wave after wave of that familiar feeling.

I fell apart. It was like building a sand castle. I had worked so hard to rebuild, to make it amazing, to rebuild everything I had always wanted and lost, only to watch it all disappear for a second time.

Fear swallowed me as it all slipped away. {Cue violins, I know…but stay with me….}

Then the strangest thing happened; I was sitting on the sofa with my partner one night, and for a brief moment the pain was gone. In that tiny moment, I looked around and felt his warm hands, smelled the sweet aroma of dinner in the oven, and laughed with my whole body as we watched some terrible movie. It was a perfect moment.

Everything changed in that moment.

I committed myself to working when I could. I knew that I could accomplish more in one focused hour than most people accomplish in a full day. I was determined to do whatever the hell I wanted, and I still wanted to change the world! Even if it was in tiny ways, one person at a time, I was going to do it. I made a choice to focus my energy on the times when I could be great, instead of the times when I couldn’t.

I created Makeness because I wanted to help people make things happen for themselves, to help people make the choice to overcome their perceived limitations, even in the face of everything turning to crap.

On the rare occasions when I tell my story, people always look at me with those sad eyes, like they really don’t know what to say.  I tell them this:

Everyone has pain.

It cripples some, and fortifies others. Pain was the best thing that ever happened to me. I wear it as my invisible badge of courage. I found happiness through it because I was forced to confront my fears. I had to really deal with them, and I had to fight my way out of the self-deprecating muck that they nearly drowned me in. I used to think I was Wonder Woman. Now I know I am. I am choosing to be a superhero.

And, ultimately, I’m thankful for the pain, because it makes me appreciate all the moments in between.

-

If you liked that jazz. . .check out some of these:

• Fear, Exposed – Featuring Monica O’Brien
• Fear, Exposed – Featuring Susan Finch
• Fear, Exposed – Featuring Danny Mannina
• Fear, Exposed – Featuring Nina Yau
• Fear, Exposed – Featuring Steve Thomas