Right around the New Year I debated (with myself) about whether or not I should post a blog about why I don’t believe in New Years resolutions, but for the people that do, I didn’t want to offend anyone. The thing is, I believe in execution. I believe that setting goals is an amazing thing. I like to hand write my goals around years end so I have something tangible to look back on. I also take time to think of how I’m going to execute them properly without getting overwhelmed with all the forgotten steps that come in between.
What I see people failing at most (myself included) is taking time to reflect on what you’ve accomplished this past year, and how it all transpired. I’m one for making plans, sticking to them, and getting frustrated when things are seemingly not going according to my plan, when the truth is; we all have a plan. Whether you believe in God, Buddha, or another higher power greater than yourself, you must believe that we all have something we’re meant to be doing to help others and ourselves. The issue that comes into play is that we’re not always capable of seeing where life may unexpectedly take us. We get so caught up in why things aren’t working and take little to no time to question if we may be headed on a more desirable path, one that will suit us better, and one that will ultimately make more sense in the long run.
This past year I had a lot of personal success in my business, but I also made a lot of mistakes. Mistakes that frustrated me, made me question my direction, but mistakes that ultimately led me to where I am, and who I am today. Looking back is something we’re often taught to not do; “look ahead” is what people say. While I’m all for it, I think that occasionally looking back allows us to see how much we’ve grown, what lessons we’ve learned, and that sometimes the most beautiful forms of creativity evolve through suffering.
I’m going to rewind a few years back to when I was living in Germany with my then husband. Neither one of us were happy in the marriage, he left and ultimately left me to pick up the pieces. I stayed in Germany for quite awhile, trying to make sense of it all, get a grip on where my life was headed (since it was no longer going in the direction I had always planned for it to), and figure out who Jayel was one her own. Not married, but single. Not Michael’s Air Force dependent, but independent. This was all new to me. I remember quite vividly asking for strength, and guidance. Every door pointed towards fitness. When I wanted to drink myself silly and forget that I had emotions I was reminded that I had clients that were depending on me. They were going through their own issues and I was there to help them see the light at the end of the tunnel. It was during that time period that I made a promise; while I do believe in God, I told myself that fitness would become a new part of my belief system. I vowed to give my life to fitness. At the time I wasn’t able to fully understand the capacity of what I was committing to.
I now see it.
For a while I struggled with connecting to others through fitness. I never struggled with weight, I had always been active, and I naturally had an athletic build. In other words, I wasn’t relatable.
As my world felt as though it was falling apart, the truth was, in part, that it was coming together. My divorce was the hardest thing I’ve had to endure to date. It left me breathless, broken, and guarded, but throughout that process I learned who I was, what I’m capable of enduring, and how I can’t look at success through anyone else’s eyes but my own- because success isn’t something you can simply write down on paper- it’s a mindset. It’s how you view your weakness and are able to make them into your strengths. We must remind ourselves that healing and rebuilding is an evolutionary process. It takes time to create a fruitful relationship, not just with others, but with ourselves as well. I can speak from the trenches because I was there, and at times still am. I felt I was in a relationship that wasn’t necessarily conducive to my growing process for seven years…yet it’s the very relationship that made me grow up.
Through that process I was reminded that each beautiful piece of artwork was birthed by failure, heartache, defeat, and loss. Yet by facing my reality I had to deal with my problems that I had been trying to cover up for so long, by pretending they didn’t exist. I now am a testament to how one can view something as a failure, yet it can turn into one of the biggest successes in your life. Sometimes veering of course is something we need. We must understand that our pain has the capability of turning our passion into a purpose.