There’s so much going on. Between two babies, my relationship, my job, and helping my partner get a foundation underneath his business castle in the sky, there’s not much time for my book.

It’s in the back of every conversation. Does what they are saying back my theory? Are they a good candidate to interview for the book? How will this all end up fitting together?

And then there are the other questions. The marketer questions, for one. Is it viable? Will I be ever-branded as Rebel Mama? Do I want to be? How far politically am I willing to take this? How will this effect my family?

Then there are the deeper questions that constitute my personal reasons for writing this book. Will I be able to forgive myself for that first year with my daughter? Will I one day be able to forgive my own mother? Can I truly heal and find peace as a mother?

In a stream of consciousness riff last weekend, I realized why I’m obsessed with the idea of not settling. Before, I had thought it was because I was so ashamed of my mother that I had to do everything in my power to succeed and be better than her. And that’s how I spent most of my teenage years.

Overachiever was my middle name.

But that was only the surface, and when I became a mom myself, I pushed even harder. Jobs, college, divorce, self-esteem issues. Thus, the cocktail for the epic depression I had.

But I could not settle.

Not settling was my coping mechanism. My own act of rebellion. Mom failed, so I would succeed. I’d show her. (Subtext of course being, “Maybe then she’ll love me.”)

It kept me alive and moving forward, but that same way of coping had a year and a half ago brought me to my knees in several incredible acts of self-sabotage. There had to be something more than just “not settling.” In a coaching session with Charlie back in January, he suggested a more positive approach, “Living a label-less life.” I liked the idea of it, but it was too clean for me. I’ve been rebelling against the labels cast on me since birth, but the fresh direction had to encompass the angst I hadn’t left behind yet.

So last weekend, it happened. While I was free-writing on Rebel Mama, this memory from the past came out on the page, and suddenly, I was bawling on the goddamn train on my way to a networking event.

Not settling was the surface dust on the book of Dusti’s broken past and rapidly evolving future. It had morphed into my excuse. Now, it was merely the sheep’s clothing on the wolf of my incredible fear of being intimately attached to anyone or anything.

Thus the appeal of minimalism to me, the problems I’d had with my partner, my complete failure to bond with my daughter when she was born, and… the real reason I stopped breastfeeding my son last week.

I have never loved something so wholeheartedly, completely, and without measure. I cry every time I think about how much I care about this tiny little boy, because it is tearing me apart. The thought of how much tenderness and love I have for him and how vulnerable I am right now feels like someone is torturing me to see exactly how much pain I can take before my heart actually breaks.

Good god, I am damaged goods. And here I am writing this book on unconventional motherhood. Living it while I’m writing it. Feeling like a fraud in my tears because I’m not supermom, and goddamnit I’m not supposed to want to be supermom because not being supermom is exactly what the goddamn book is about.

—

Julien wrote a post today about how doing work that matters kills a little part of us. I completely agree.

This book has already made me cry, choke, share, and love more than I ever have. Blood, sweat, and tears – that’s just the beginning.

Although I’ve felt I’ve recently emerged from my quarter-life crisis, albeit with some impressive scars, this strikes me as something more like the start of real healing.

I’m finally answering the call. Through the pain and the work, I will find my own redemption.

And I hope I can help you find yours along the way.

—

If you’d like to hear more about Rebel Mama as it develops, subscribe to my newsletter here.

My reason for minimal living is rooted in having everything taken away from me – and the realization that it didn’t matter anyway. When I was 16, I moved out of my mom’s house and was only allowed to take my backpack of school supplies and clothing.

At first, I writhed at my misfortune. A short lifetime’s worth of items accumulated and stored up lost to me in an instant. My Barbies I had been holding on to an investment for college. A closet full of clothes I only wore a few things out of. Knickknacks and photos tucked onto every available surface.

Even the loss of the room itself was an insult. The walls of my room had been turned into a collage of magazine pages. Trends and clothing and everything I didn’t have surrounded me day and night in that room. Coming from the background I do, we hadn’t seen a lot of money come into our lives since the late 90′s, when my mom was working two jobs as a bartender and waitress.

Somewhere in it all lay the thought that if only I had these things, I would finally fit in. (I was that pretty girl in high school who didn’t really fit in with any group in part because of my rough background. I was socially awkward and incredibly naive.) And at the first available moment, I began to accumulate stuff again as a way of trying to regain some sort of stability in my life. (Obviously a failed concept, but it’s only fair to acknowledge my behavior for what it was.)

But I had to let go of everything from before. The memories and the sentimental attachment to everything. I wasn’t mature enough to realize it at the time, but that first experience with losing everything was a crucial step for me. I became detached from my things, and instead focused on the relationships in my life and the experiences I could have with those people. Only after everything had been stripped away could I place my memories and sentiments where they truly belonged.

Detachment from objects leaves space for so much more. I’m not a Buddhist, but I have keen respect for those living with so little so well.

The key isn’t to take away literally everything – I think we’re all beyond that at this point. (I hope.) It’s about having a few, well-crafted belongings that enrich our ability to live the lives we choose, rather than hindering us by confining us to one location.

Thanks to the Industrial Revolution, people are pinned into the status quo existence they are now. The public education system was made to create a slightly educated population of worker bees. Homeownership was promoted as a way to keep people in the same place forever – or at least long enough to pay off a mortgage (30 years? Really? Do you pretend to know where you’ll be in 5 years, let alone 30?)

Two of the most “secure” and “stable” concepts we accept as the norm in our culture come from a desire to keep the common man trapped.

Of course minimalism as a concept is popular! Humans love connection and community, but we were born nomads. It’s our birthright. I’m aware of the risk of sounding a little woo woo here, but look at our history pre-1800. Earlier. Before agriculture.

If you buy into the Paleo lifestyle, for instance, minimalism is a clear hand-in-hand counterpart. In What Technology Wants, Kevin Kelly discusses how in nomadic cultures, the amount of stuff you have was considered a burden. I am liable to agree. My ability to adapt and shift and grow should not be hampered because I have to move a house full of furniture across the country or worry about my expensive dishes breaking en route to my new (temporary) home.

And every home we have is temporary. Very few people live in the same home for their entire childhood, let alone living in the same area once they are off to college and beyond. Our mobility is a vital component of how we will grow as both children and adults.

Is the fear of change really a valid reason to stay in the same place for your entire life? Even should you choose to remain in a particular region as a home base of sorts, not getting out of it – at least in chunks of time – will eventually limit you and your personal growth.

With the ties to both social and literal mobility, minimalism isn’t just a retaliation to a consumer culture. It’s a personal and political statement rooted in our identity as Americans and our humanity.

One of the most important lessons I think I will ever teach my children is that their belongings aren’t where their happiness comes from. They may get joy from the experiences and interactions as a result of them, but that should be the only real purpose of our things anyhow – to support our best life.

It’s very true that the appeal of Fight Club will only take you so far. Rebelling and rejecting cultural norms are a beginning – not a means onto themselves. You can quit buying into the statue quo, but only with a dedication to improving yourself and your actual wellbeing can you rise above the same situation you found yourself in before. Escapism never helped anyone.

There is a next step – I believe it’s actualization. But you can’t let stuff get in the way of it. That’s really the heart of it for me.

Stuff doesn’t matter – what we can do when it’s a non-issue does.

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It was a little surreal. I grew up in that theatre. The first round of auditions I ever tried out for, I had just turned 16 and was entirely unprepared for the world of community theatre. (Let’s just say, well, boatloads of underage drinking, skeezy older men, my first lezzy experience, AND my first blackout. Thinking about my incredible naivety and how it was taken advantage of is making me gag right now.)

The show was much better than I had expected, and afterwards I hung around to say hi to a few friends. A couple years back, I was in Cabaret, and the cast was mostly the same people. (The sexy leg on the left is mine. Weirdest part of this show? James was my 8th grade English teacher. Aaaaand, I was one of the “Two Ladies.” Ah, growing up.)

Anyway, I had a crazy experience. Within 30 seconds of talking to two of the cast members, I had them talking about their big crises. One of them is having an existential crisis over his job and the other is going through a heinously messy divorce.

I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to say hi. But small talk just ain’t my style, I guess.

—

I have a background in music. I used to sing soprano in high school competitively. Musical theatre was favorite way to spend my time.

But I always struggled to find my voice. Change that, I’m still struggling to find my voice. What I mean is, since I was little, I’ve had this uncanny ability to imitate the voices I hear.

It occurred to me in the shower this morning how true the same thing is for my writing voice. It certainly fluctuates with my mood. Sometimes, I’m abrasive and outrageous, and other times I’ll tone it down like with the more narrative approach I took a few weeks back.

I used to say of singing, I had no voice – but I could sound anyway you liked me to. And as for my writing voice, well, I could say the same.

I’m part of a wonderful copywriting group. We exchange ideas and thoughts and advice, and it’s really lovely to lose some of the isolation working from home can create. The other day, we were discussing how certain voices permeate our online space and the issue of clients wanting to layer our brand voices over their work, as if we were life coaches or Etsy shop owners or whatever.

During the conversation, I mentioned the difficulty I’ve had in cultivating a brand voice of my own because of its chameleon-like quality. It’s always been a point of personal strife for me – a slap in the face of not knowing myself well enough to even know what my own voice sounded like. It was nerve-wracking to reveal in a community of such incredibly talented writers.

And then someone said it was a strength to be able to shift in and out of my voice – that they often struggled to keep their own voice out of their client work.

—

It completely reframed the situation for me. Never had it crossed my mind that other people had trouble writing in their clients’ voices.

I’ve been mulling it over for a while, and that and another event helped me discover the deeper layers of my superpower.
My superpower is my ability to shapeshift my voice to get to a deeper level of connection. Singing, speaking, writing – my voice changes for the audience to achieve that which will resonate.

I thought I had no voice of my own. But really, it’s more like my voice can transcend that initial barrier of first impressions. I can leave the impression I desire based on how I adapt.

We are the sum of our experiences – and that’s difficult to remember sometimes. No single event defines us. But each moment and each realization compounds and creates further meaning.

—

How did you discover your superpower? Is it still hiding in plain sight?

I don’t.

There is so much more to this than me. That’s why I have to do it. This is a massive piece of who I am – the conflicted mother role – but it’s not all of me. It’s not any of us.

We are more than mothers. We are more than wives. How is it that after all of this time we are still not enough because of our sex?

And how can we change this?

The United States is one of four countries in the world without paid maternity leave. This is a travesty. A few other quick facts on motherhood.

• The estimated number of mothers of all ages in the United States: 80.5 million
• Globally less than 40% of infants under six months of age are exclusively breastfed. Adequate breastfeeding support for mothers and families could save many young lives.
• The most important relationship in a child’s life is the attachment to his or her primary caregiver, optimally, the mother. This is due to the fact that this first relationship determines the biological and emotional ‘template’ for all future relationships.

This reaches beyond political platforms. Your wives, sisters, friends – most will be mothers at some point in their lives. And they will have to decide.

Do I stay home with my new baby? Do I give myself the time I need to heal? Do I breastfeed?

And what about those mothers who can’t choose?

Can I afford to stay home with my new baby? Can I afford to give myself time to heal?

What a tragedy.

Concerns

The argument I hear forming already is that against the mythical “welfare mom.”

Because poor women have no right to time to heal or time with their infants? They don’t deserve consideration. Because a woman is poor and likely uneducated, her ability to bring children into the world – which is otherwise considered a blessing – is looked down on as a societal problem.

How many women do you honestly believe don’t want a better life for their children?

And what about those children? What will become of them?

Well, since their mother has no access to healthcare or education or the money she needs to take care of herself and her children, there isn’t much hope.

Confession

During my 2nd year of college, I was on welfare for six months.

That money made a huge difference in mine and my daughter’s quality of life. By the way, do you know what a cash cow welfare is? Oh yeah! We were living the high life there with that $400.

$400. That was enough to cover my portion of the rent and utilities in the tiny, two bedroom apartment I shared with 3 other people. And I was so grateful. Normally, if you’re in college, they won’t give you any help. (Which makes tons of sense, right? You’re in college, which means you must have access to loads of money.) My wonderful case worker found a loop hole so she could help us, because she saw how committed I was to making a better life for my daughter and I.

If it weren’t for that money, I would have had to find a part-time job. I would have seen even less of my daughter, who at the time was eight months old.

And there is nothing I regret more than how much of that first year with her I missed.

More to Come

Periodically, I’m going to touch on the process of writing Rebel Mama, because frankly, I didn’t anticipate having it so much of an effect on me as it has so far.

It’s been incubating since I wrote my first ebook, The Minimalist Mom. I realized the topic I really wanted to write about was bigger than that. It wasn’t about minimalism and motherhood; it was about the assumptions and labels people place on us. Thus, Undefinable You was born.

And then it got more involved. It grew into a business, consulting, selling my writing. Incredible growth.

The more I talked with people, the more I learned how tied up our businesses are in our stories – thus the focus I put on writing “about” pages. At the beginning, I couldn’t get through a branding session without someone crying in the first 15 minutes. My superpower is being able to cut to the heart of the matter rapidly – I put people at ease and they share the deep stuff.

I loved it. The more I learned, the more I connected the dots between the stories we tell ourselves, the ones society tells us, and the heroes’ stories we aspire to and often should be telling. Especially the story of motherhood.

Labels and motherhood PISS ME OFF. Can’t stand ‘em. But, as humans we can’t live without them – categorizing is what we do. I could tell there was something more to this line of thought. Motherhood, feminism, stories, cultural narratives.

I thought this was just going to be side project, a marketing experiment, the jumping off point for my career as a writer in the traditional publishing world should I want it… But once I started working on it, I realized how much bigger than me it was.

Now, I’m rethinking the scope of it.

When I was writing this week, I burst into tears. I realized I was writing my future TED talk. MY future political career. (Thinking the Senate, but we’ll see.) It’s THE mission. I never thought I really had one.

Now, I want to gather a tribe around the idea that there is an alternative to status-quo endorsed motherhood. We are more. We deserve more.

—

If you want to hear more about Rebel Mama as it develops, join my newsletter list here.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone!? I’m trying to work here and everyone is interrupting me!”

That’s what I sound like when I’m throwing a tantrum. I can’t think. I’m distracted. No matter how hard I try, nothing seems to come out of my brain. That’s when I explode at my kids. And sometimes my husband.

When I reach my limit like that, I feel hopeless and angry. I just don’t know what to do with myself to stop feeling that way. The cause? I’m trying to be everything to everyone, tossing my needs to the side in the process.

And I’m done with it.

It’s a new business quarter – a great time to start building new habits. To get rid of the old ones that aren’t working for you and replace them with new, sustainable ones. This year, I’m creating the habit of taking care of myself.

Of course, now I have to identify what my needs are. Crap. It’s one thing to declare my intentions, but quite another to actually do it. Thankfully, you won’t let me put this off.

Ok, here goes. I feel the most rejuvenated with:

Time Outside

I need to get out of my space on a regular basis. Too much time inside drives me crazy. When I’m cooped up too long, I stress about cleaning, laundry and figuring out what to do with the converted garage that has no purpose. I need to be outside, taking in the beauty of nature, feeling the sun on my face.

Solitude

I’m an introvert. While I love hanging out with other people, it drains me. I need to be alone to recharge my batteries. And when I’m with my sweet little family 24 hours a day, I feel like I have nothing left to give. That’s when the bitchy monster comes out to bite everyone’s head off.

People

I need time with my girlfriends, women like Dusti and Megan who get me and listen while I try to process what’s going through my brain. While I need time to myself, I also need a few close friends to kick me in the ass when I start making excuses. Time alone with my husband (bonus when it’s out of the house) also helps me feel like I’m not doing this alone.

Creativity

Creativity is so important to me. I love making something beautiful out of raw materials or putting words on a page. When my needs aren’t being met, writing a short blog post is a long, painful process. I just can’t seem to bring it together.

Well that was easier than I thought. And I feel better just knowing what I need. I’m not stopping there, though. Time to put it into action.

Now it’s your turn. What needs are you pushing to the side? What makes you feel rejuvenated and alive? Figure out what they are (it’s not that hard) and start making your needs a priority.

Nina Nelson is a writer, mama to four, and wife to one. She hangs out at Shalom Mama, helping people approach life intentionally to get to the root of what really matters. She loves reading, snuggling, and giggling at miniature ponies. Connect with her onTwitter and share your story of how you’re living a life of meaning.

First impressions are important. But how many people have you met who decide to get hitched after a first date?

It takes time to build a relationship. Connection. Conversation. You have to get to know the person. It’s a give-and-take deal. Loving flexibility.

That’s what a killer email sequence is like.

Let me guess. You’ve got your email list set-up, and you probably even have a sweet ass opt-in.

…But then what?

Branding isn’t just a one-shot deal – and you’re no one-trick pony. It’s not over with your website and an opt-in. Building a relationship over time is crucial if you want your list to start converting.

But HOLY HELL is it hard to keep up with your 754 new best friends.

Wouldn’t it be nice is you had a way to let them know you care – and that they could strike up a conversation with you any time they liked?

Enter the autoresponder – your simple, streamlined way for starting lots of conversations at once without killing yourself. But a great email sequence takes time to craft, especially if you’ve never done it before. You need a great template to get it moving.

Thus, I made you the Art of the Autoresponder.

(Ya like that super sexy graphic? Yeah. Paintbrush. I AM AWESOME. Hey, don’t judge – I’m playing to my strengths. i.e. not graphic design.)

Part brilliant template, Part algebra for writers, Part Mad-Lib, The Art of the Autoresponder is a series of email templates to help you kickstart the conversation by giving them your Fabulous Freebie and following up with a series of ooh-la-la-lovely letters and love notes.

So what’s your email list up to? Do you know who’s on it? Have you started a conversation with them lately? A great email sequence takes time to craft – unless of course you have cheat sheets.

These templates will help you:

• Start a conversation with new subscribers
• Build up to your next product launch
• Get your tribe involved on your site
• Crank up the interaction on social media
• Begin a real, beautiful relationship with your reader
• Collect ultra shiny new testimonials

So what are you waiting for? Strike up a conversation with your email list – and start converting.

You can get The Art of the Autoresponder here for $20.

Twenty dollars. Less than pretty much any date. And the best part? They set you up to start making more money – now. When someone opts in for your newsletter, that’s like them saying yes to another date with you. Don’t disappoint them by not answering their calls – pick up the phone and let them know you’re interested in them.

Why do you want them?

1. These are the templates I use to build autoresponders for myself and clients. And I don’t mean to brag, but I bring in hella high conversion rates. I’m like a click-magnet.

2. I’m infamous for being a great networker, and it branches into everything else I do – that’s why my copy is so engaging. Which is why you’re still reading this.

3. You can use them over and over again. And again. And again. I make at least one of these a week for clients, and this is where I start.

Hope you get loads of use out of them!

XO

Yesterday, while browsing the “new” non-fiction, I decided to try and grab something I wouldn’t normally. My instinct is to reach for another business book, scan the text for anything new or useful, and then move on to the next. On the shelf, a stunning black and white photo of two boys with a guitar caught my attention. Gypsies: An Illustrated History by Jean-Pierre Liegeois. Not being one for picture books – I’m a auditory/social learner – I almost passed it by. However, the less than secret obsession with all things laced with wanderlust I harbor had already been piqued.

As I turned through the pages, I learned about the many Rom cultures, the rumors, the myths, the stories that bind this culture together with barren threads. It was all interesting – though dry – thanks to a poor French-to-English translation. But finally, just as I was about to brush the book aside, I found this.

“As an element of identity, being Travelers separates the non-Gypsies, the peasant, the sedentary, the rigid, and rooted. Travel is a symbol and an honor: the sentence, “We are Travelers,” is a necessary and sufficient statement of identity for those who say it. It explains everything. Travelers move on. Their living space is experience itself, never a shut or bounded territory, but a flexible identity unattached to any particular piece of earth: the land of the Gypsies lies within themselves.”

Rereading it, the passage pulls at my heart. It’s so simple, but it’s so ingrained in my truth. My rebellion in lovely, simple words. “Travelers move on.” Travelers refuse the false security of remaining in one place we know and are known. Travelers have no bounds. The land of the Traveler lies within themselves. Could we adopt a better philosophy on life? I’m not so sure.

We can’t abide perfection. We are human – which seems to me almost a synonym for nomad. We were created to roam the earth, never quite at home anywhere. Never settling. Explorers and wanderers until the end. I think I’m okay with that.

Thanks to my body beginning to feel more like itself again, along with my inability to stay home for long, I’ve been out and about in the downtown area where I grew up. With Tristan along for the ride in his sling, my legs once more carry me through the familiar streets, paved with cracked brick and lined with small shops . I’d love to tell you its dilapidated look is from decades of use, adding to the antiquated charm of the area, but then you’d lose the irony of the brick actually having been laid less than ten years ago by a shoddy company the city has since tried to sue.

Moving back here wasn’t my first choice of living arrangements. But it’s been a surprising experience. For perhaps the first time, I almost feel – dare I say it? – at home here. The place has changed; so have I. It makes me think my inner rebel is beginning to choose its battles with more care.

…Then, I see college students living in la-la-land.

I have the privilege of living across the street from a small private university. It’s beautiful – a park-like setting in the middle of town with castle-like buildings, each imposing, almost brooding, as if to say, “This is an institution. Through us, you too can gain power and prestige.” Most of the students buy into the illusion. The cafe I frequent is the meeting place of many of the professors, stealing a few moments of repose away from the students who are more often at the kitschy, leaky-roofed bakery down the block with cinnamon rolls that are to die for. It’s strange the way they have all bought into the same fiction. The students talk about their fears: how will they get jobs after college and pay back massive student loan debt? Most seem to think more education is the answer.

Of course, when you hear the professors discussing the rapid expansion the university is seeing, in part thanks to increased enrollment in graduate level programs, it’s no surprise the students have accepted more education and more debt as an inevitability. It’s no wonder the professors would promote more higher education; it’s what they did and what they know. (It also helps guarantee their tenure.) But you can’t really blame professors for trying to solve a problem in the only way they know how. (Even though “Get good grades, go to college, get good job” has failed, adding on “More college, get better job” should work, right?)

Walking through the campus everyday gives me interesting glimpses into this world I only recently stepped out of. More interesting than the wisps of dreams being crushed under the weight of the establishment, though, is how the students react to real life.

You see, Evie is going through what I’ve dubbed the “Stranger Danger” phase. This translates into my rather precocious offspring greeting every person she meets with innocent, loving enthusiasm. It’s enough to make even the more reserved students smile. How can you not grin back at a joyous, “Hi! How are you?” and respond when someone shows genuine interest in you?

The reaction of each student varies, but for a moment, you can see the inhibitions and worries melt away. They are just being. It makes me wonder how much of their creativity and everything that makes them feel alive have they forgotten. How many of them had dreams this big before they bought into a false sense of reality? How many of them will come out of this college life with any reasonable expectation of happiness?

The inner rebel flares up in anger at the depravity of a cruel system, then cries out at how very sad it is the reality so many people have been sold is a fairytale. And the wandering goes on. And the searching for answers continues.

And I keep coming back to that passage. We should all be so lucky to have the land we belong to inside ourselves.

Okay, maybe that’s a slight overstatement. I’m just not very good at taking breaks, but I think the reason why is a good one. I love what I do. Anyway, as requested by many of you…

Life Updates!

I am now a mama x2! It ended up that I had to induce, but I had a great birth experience. Here’s how it ended up.

Vital Stats:

Name: Tristan Evander Akers
Born: 10:05am, March 5, 2012
Weight: 8lbs. 9oz.

It was such a different experience than with my daughter, and I’m so grateful for all of the wonderful support I’ve received, online and off. Nina came and stayed with us for a few days before and after birth to help, my coffee shop family has been more than happy to hold him when I venture out into the world, and my work family came to visit, too! Community makes everything better – and I love getting to share my sweet babies.

What I’ve been up to:

Short answer? Recovering and reflecting. If you’ve had a baby, you know what the first week home is like. (In case you haven’t, it involves Vicodin, witch hazel, and a few other less than glamourous items.) I left the hospital 24 hours after I had Tristan, and looking back on it, I probably should have stayed one more night. (But hospital beds are SO uncomfortable. And I was WAY over some of the nurses.)

I’ve also had time to start reading again and really spend some time with the various ideas and concepts I’ve been absorbing lately. A couple of weeks ago, I picked up Fascinate, and it’s been a useful way to view marketing efforts. Sally Hogshead, who might just have a better name than me, discusses seven triggers that you can choose to activate for your brand/business. You can even take a quiz to determine what your triggers are here. Mine, no surprise here, were passion and rebellion.

Learning my triggers, core personality archetypes (rebel/sage), and that I’m a natural connector is helping me look at my decisions and past experiences under a new lens. Analyzing how these different pieces of myself fit together is changing the way I react and plan. I find I’m choosing projects more effectively and with more care.

It’s interesting rocking the “rebel” and “passion” labels, though, because of the can of worms that comes with them. First, there’s an almost inherently sexual overture that comes with this kind of combination – Hogshead had previously called the passion and rebellion triggers  lust and vice. Realizing that made a handful of situations I’ve found myself in previously make much more sense. Then, there the questions that accompany the loaded idea of the “rebel.”

At what point do you stop rebelling? How do you choose what’s worth rebelling against? It’s so tied into this message I feel so tied to of refusing to settle, and yet, when can you just accept you’re happy in a given moment without inadvertently sabotage yourself? These are a few of the questions I’ve been asking myself for the past year. Now, I realize a few main themes keep coming up.

• The stories we tell about ourselves matter.
• Labels suck ass, but we need them/can’t avoid them.
• The status quo concept of motherhood is, pardon my French, a fucking joke. (It’s also a contradiction, completely ludicrous, and Supermom is taking more drugs to stay happy than you’d believe. But I digress.)

These concepts formed the basis for a project I’ve been tossing around since last fall. And with that, I am please to announce my next book.

My next project: Rebel Mama

Tentatively titled Rebel Mama, my next book is going to take several of the ideas I’ve been exploring for the past few years and expand on them in the depth they have been begging me for. Rebel Mama is about telling a new story about motherhood – why it’s changed so rapidly, how there is more than one way to do it, and offering alternatives to status quo assumptions of what a mom should be.

A compelling combination of interviews with unconventional parents, personal anecdotes from the trenches of motherhood, and a wealth of research on issues effecting modern parenting, Rebel Mama is my most ambitious writing project to date. And frankly, writing it scares the hell out of me. I’m opting to self-publish it, but I’ve got big plans in the works you’ll hear about soon. This has been a fun project to develop while I’ve been out of the office, and it’s exciting to finally reveal what I’ve been working on.

Oh, come on. Like I could just take maternity leave without working on a project.

At any rate, I’m pretty happy. As I write this, I’m working out of my local cafe again, and Tristan is cozy and strapped to my chest in one of these . Things are very, very good. Maybe my reason for being here is rooted in being a rebel with a cause.

P.S. My first post at Productive Flourishing went live today! Check it out here.

I would really rather ask for pain medication than have it pushed on me.
- That said, if/when I am ready for the meds, let’s just go for the epidural. You and I both know the IV meds are total crap and work all of 15 minutes.

I would really rather not use Pitocin because last time it pretty much destroyed my body with epic contractions.

I would really rather not have a cesarean, unless the baby and I are in big trouble.

I would really rather not have a tubal ligation, unless I have to have the aforementioned cesarean. Then let’s do all of the cutting up of Dusti’s lady parts at one time for sake of ease.

After Tristan makes his grand debut…

I’m trying this damn breastfeeding thing if it frigging kills me – no pacifiers or bottles, please.

He doesn’t need to be pumped full of vaccines. Despite how much of me you may or may not have seen of me at this point, I’m generally pretty modest and not a deviant – no need to give him the Hepatitis B shot.

I want to leave the hospital as soon as I can. It’s nothing personal, I promise. I’d just rather be at home with the new cute and squishy. And can I pass on the wheelchair? Thanks.

(In case you’re wondering, yes, this is what I’m giving the doctor today, and yes, I do in fact think I’m funny.)

See you all after I have the baby!

It’s been frustrating, but it’s also been insanely rewarding.

(Here’s the long version.) The short version of what’s been going on?

Well, I unintentionally started a marketing agency. (No, seriously.) I hit max capacity with client work (and then some). I started working with local clients (something I’d been dying to do). And the best, biggest news?

I traded it in for a killer job.

Really. And I’m excited as hell.

But I had this problem. What was I supposed to say about what I did now? Sure, I was getting paid by someone else, but it wasn’t like a real job. Well, I guess it kind of was, but it didn’t feel like it. More like an un-job.

And I mean, didn’t I always get paid by someone else? It’s not like I was just manifesting money out of thin air? My income was coming from my (mostly) service-based business. I just got paid by a handful of different people. Now, I only had to worry about one of them paying me on time to pay rent! That’s a win in my book.

Anyway, all of these conflicting thoughts boiled down to a few realizations.

Too many people in the online space are operating on assumptions like:

• You either work for yourself or someone else.
• Marketing can only be done one way – and it’s by using a proven sales funnel, mega launches, pop-ups, and tactics that make anyone not in sales feel like they need a shower.
• You have to grow an empire – anything less is settling.

Moving beyond assumptions

Talking to Charlie the other day, he mentioned how many online entrepreneurs are duplicating effort, spinning in circles, and really not accomplishing all that much.

And it’s true. How much hype and “awesome” and whatnot do you see flying through your social media streams everyday? So much creation is happening in a vacuum. Infoproducts are (mostly) a small change game. Only a handful people will ever make loads of money doing it. Affiliate marketing isn’t for everyone (and very few people are any good at it since they don’t bother to learn how). Service-based businesses are looked down upon because they aren’t (always) scalable.

I’m not saying any of these people and businesses are doing anything wrong. Far from it. Many of these same entrepreneurs are friends and colleagues who I really respect. And for the ones with a huge, audacious, incredible mission, I’m totally there. Like Kristen and Shannon. They’ve got crazy amazing shit going on. So does Elisa. That’s why we all care and like to feel like a part of the journey. Anyone who can make a business and a living out of their passions and a website has done something worthy.

The problem here is the imbalance. There is a massive focus on one way of doing things.

It’s a man’s world

You may notice it’s male dominated, based in the “Crush It” mindset, and can often sound like a slightly different version of Tim Ferriss.

(Often, it’s also afraid of commitment, idolizes bachelorhood, and makes bizarre choices like discussing in public getting vasectomies that can be reversed later because having to wear a condom would absolutely ruin their perfect lifestyle. And I wish I were joking.)

Welcome to lifestyle design, where anyone (assuming you’re a salesman) can make a fantastic living (assuming you can build a tribe, network, and products that accept playing off of customer insecurity and uncertainty as a way to make money) anywhere in the world (assuming you have no desire to put down roots anywhere that doesn’t have a weaker currency than the dollar)!

There is a big set of problems here no one wants to discuss – because keeping customers uncertain of anything other than the idea that they need you to be their guru is a time-honored marketing tactic. Never mind ethics or building up your customers to a point where they either don’t need you or you can offer something better to further help them. It’s why so many sales pages are so disrespectful and why pop-ups reign supreme. (Stop clicking them, by the way, if nothing else to protest them being there at all.)

What I wanted to be when I grew up

Quick back story: When I was in high school, I always HATED taking that stupid career test because every single time, I’d get the same top job, even if I changed my answers – Marketing Director.

It made me cringe. I’d never sell my soul like that! Becoming someone who sells people shit they don’t need for ridiculous amounts of money? That was corporate, unethical, and frankly made me feel gross to even think about.

Well, it turns out I love marketing. And I’m really, really good at it. I sell without meaning to, and when I love something, I’m an evangelist. My perception of what marketing is has developed and grown, and now I know I have a choice. I could be one of those skeezy marketers who uses a generic sales page format because it sells – even though that means I’m taking advantage of people, ignoring my values, and otherwise being a douche.

Or, I could do it better. I could sell something I believed in to people who needed it and would use it. I could be a part of something bigger than just me. (This is an obvious problem in lifestyle brands who insist on keeping it all about them. It’s also an impressive way of capping your income and trying to ward off insecurity that your business could grow into something more and not just be about you.)

So what are the options then for someone who isn’t naturally gifted in sales? Or networking? Or whatever your weak spot is? What if you don’t want an empire?

Perhaps – dare I say it – lifestyle businesses aren’t for everyone.

Yes, the traditional employment model is broken. But what about the work environment that’s enjoyable and has a real, live team behind it? Not every job ever sucks. And they shouldn’t.

But you know what does suck? Enjoying being around people and working in isolation. Playing down your strengths in the name of creating an imitation of someone else’s idea of the ideal lifestyle.

Know what else sucks? Labels. Can’t live with ‘em, and can’t describe shit without ‘em. So, friend, what the hell do you call someone who is making a partial income one way and working for others for another part of it? The fact is entrepreneur or solopreneur or freelancer or moonlighter isn’t the right word. It doesn’t do anyone justice or honor what they do.

It’s not an either/or argument anymore. This has turned into an “and” moment for us to embrace.

Labels suck, but guess what? We’re human, and it’s how we’re wired.

At this point, I’d put money on anyone reading this knowing only having one income stream is ignorant. I’ll even wager that’s why so many of us struggle to talk about exactly what it is we do.

It’s not that we’re a bunch of generalists, though that is often a part of it – it’s that we are creating a new paradigm and standard for how (and why) people work. We don’t just do one thing to pay the bills – and that is a very good thing.

So what happens if we stop playing by established rules – even recent ones we’ve tried to construct for ourselves in the name of an anti-status quo? Instead of forcing ourselves into a solopreneur role as the only alternative, why don’t we utilize all of our strengths? Each of us is a unique, boundless resource, and we are so much more powerful when we band together. We can create real community.

That sounds so kumbaya, but it’s true.

Work your strengths

Until a few weeks ago, I’ve felt myself suppressing my inherent desire to network in the name of productivity and getting things done. Well, sure. I can’t talk all the time. At the same time, though…

What the hell am I thinking?!

Trying to keep myself from making new friends and connections and talking with interesting, amazing people is like trying to cut coffee out of my diet. I could – but myself and everyone around me will be much happier if I don’t.

Sure, you can’t be having fun and chatting all the time, but my entire business since day one has been based on referrals. I am great with people, and I sell myself without meaning to. (Err, right. Moving on.) It’s part of who I am. It makes sense for me to keep up this sort of activity, especially when I can get paid to do it while other people cover shit I hate wasting my time on like web design. It means we ALL make more money.

It’s not just about the money, either. Maybe some people thrive working in constant isolation, but I certainly do not. I like people. More than that, there is nothing I like better than feeling like I’m part of a community that cares about me. It’s a pretty basic human need.

Choosing to do it differently means many things. It could mean you grow something worth having like Joshua and Ryan. It might mean you create your perfect career like Jeff. And, just maybe, it means you do something crazy you said you’d never do – like becoming a marketer.