Last year, I wrote a post entitled, The Ways in Which We Limit Ourselves. If you’re new around here, you might want to check it out, as it both summarizes a few perspective shifts that have revolutionized my own life, and is pretty much the meat and potatoes (or beans and rice) of this little social revolution we’ve been stewing.

This being the popular time of year to take stock of ourselves, I thought I’d revisit the idea of self-imposed limitations and hash through a few more that I’ve recognized in myself since this time last year.

Taking an honest look at the ways we get in our own way can be useful as a sort of subconscious snowplow — to clear a path for fresh intentions. Sure, you can drive your shiny new resolutions right off the lot and into the blizzard of your mind, but you’re a lot more likely to actually get somewhere if you first push aside the accumulation blocking your way.

Here are three stories I’ve told myself throughout this year followed by the truth I’ve come to see upon reflection.

1. When I manage to accomplish ____ , I will find the joy I seek.

I could write for hours upon hours about creating inner peace and experiencing a depth of love beyond measure. I feel them both abundantly in my life and easily return to them when I start to lose my balance. But JOY? Not just as an abstract concept, but as a deep and penetrating constant just like peace and love? As a childlike lightness that makes quick work of gloom or longing or the sheer weight of caring deeply for so many people? As a catalyst for frequent laughter and a skip in my step despite the constant chaos? Let’s just say I don’t exactly whistle as much as I used to.

I’m beginning to see why an abundance of joy has felt somewhat elusive to me as of late — and really, it comes as little surprise. Remnants of the same stubborn idealism and perfectionism I have largely overcome still lurk in obscure corners, trying to convince me that joy is a thing to be earned once everything is just so and in its place. Once the kids are more settled here and less of a handful, once I’ve managed to find a balance between work and home life, once I’ve connected with a group of friends or planted a garden or made money as a writer. Consequently, joy usually seems just a happy family, new friend or productive day away.

Without realizing it, I’ve been preventing the organic flow of joy through my life by looking for instead of simply being open to it. I’ve expected it to come in ways I’ve previously experienced it, reducing it to something much less grand, abundant and generous than it really is. Ever present, free for the taking and limitless in form, joy simply exists and kindly waits for us to notice.

2. “I’ll make money as a writer just as soon as ____.”

As soon as I have x number of readers. As soon as I reach the next tier of daily page views. Once I prove to “enough” people that I have something valuable to offer or perhaps when I reach the 18-month mark that so-and-so freelance genius encouraged me to shoot for.

The truth is that I will make money just as soon as I decide that I am worthy of compensation for my time (because I’ve already reached the aforementioned goals). As soon as I get at the heart of why I feel monetizing somehow makes me less authentic. Once I rethink a long-term belief that the pursuit of money is at the root of what’s wrong with the world. There’s even some strange part of me that actually resists accepting money for my work because I love it enough to do it for free. Weird, I know.

And while it does take time to build a freelance career, I suppose it’s just as true that I’ve been hiding behind these ideas so I don’t have to step out from my comfort zone. Thoughts like, “I’m a writer, not a marketer,” and “I have more creative capacities than business sense,” are not only damming the flow of money from my experience, but limiting my potential to do what I do best (and testing the patience of my super supportive man). Unless I learn to love business and marketing and invest in them with the eagerness I do creating, I may be forced to set aside what comes most naturally to me and write about outboard engines or replacement parts for farm combines (as I did before this blog), and that would be a crying shame.

I’m giving a lot of thought to this one right now and feel a big shift coming on. I’ve also begun reading The Soul of Money which is probably going to ensure I become a millionaire without even meaning to. (Hey, as long as we’re plowing, might as well go wide.)

3. Motherhood is kicking my butt.

I think milestones are entirely underrated for their significance in our lives. Try as I may to reason my way through this transition out of parenting tiny people and into the rearing of four young women, I find myself resisting the intensity of it with a frustrated, cross-armed reluctance. It’s kind of like the first time I swam in the Pacific, off the coast of Oaxaca. (Yeah, real funny Anna, Steve-O, Hunter.) Though I knew I had to get out past the point where the waves break, the current sucks you under and — if you come up at all — you are force fed the finest from the ocean floor (then offered a chaser in the form of a thousand pound saline wave), everything in me screamed, “Hell no I’m not going out there! Are you insane? I don’t care if it’s easier past a point. I was perfectly happy building sandcastles in the sunshine, thankyouverymuch.”

The thing is, the whole bit (raising four daughters) is complicated by our choice to live out of the country and away from our support network, and we know that, but it’s pretty hard to discern whether they’ve turned into psychotic rabid felines because we’re here, because we just moved (again) or because it’s just part of the process of growing up. While logic tells me its a combo pack, heavy on the latter, it’s still difficult to fully accept that I’ve been suddenly ousted from my positions as “Most Important Person in the World” and “Sole Provider of Liquid Gold Nourishment” and “Chief Executive of Primary Learning” and “Head Nurturer of Household” and forcibly repositioned to “Volunteer Manager of 24-Hour Domestic Disputes” and “Resident Dumping Grounds for All Complaints” and “Unpaid Live-In Keeper of All-Important Documents, Wisdom and Schedules Who Apparently Knows Nothing Yet Is Expected to Solve Unsolvable Problems Instantaneously.”

Upon reflection, it’s clear to me that I’ve been holding tightly to who I was to them (let’s face it, I was a goddess), which has left me a bit resentful of the {slightly} less appreciated role I play in their lives now (live-in maid/lab rat for emotional experimentation).

In moments of calm, I can also reason that they need me more than ever, that they reserve the ugliest of themselves for the one most invested in them because they’re secure in my love and that motherhood is actually not kicking my butt, but in fact shaping me into exactly the kind of woman I want to be: strong but still tender, wise though ever humbled and with a keen eye for truth and beauty amidst bullshit and chaos.

– – – – –

Once I’ve cleared the road a bit, so to speak, I like to make it official with a precise affirmation and invitation. I write it down, tape it somewhere I frequent and read it aloud daily as a reminder. Here’s mine for January, 2013…

I am worthy of and open to the fullest experience of joy possible. I am worthy of and open to the flow of money through my life and commit to using it for good. I let go of all preconceived notions of who I am based on who I have been, choose to stay vulnerable to growth and transformation and acknowledge challenges as the ultimate opportunities.

Feel free to comment with your own self-limitations! Many of mine I’ve come to recognize through the sharing of others.