It’s been an interesting week here in the Big Apple. A lot of challenges. A lot of reasons to remember just why this new heart project of mine, My Selfie – is so important.

I have been challenged with quiet fears of being disappointed…again. I have been haunted by those too familiar thoughts that fleet through us as quickly, and quietly as the snowflakes that fell in the city today: can I do this? Do I know enough? Have I done enough? Am I enough? I thought I was on top of…me.  I was consciously bringing myself back to love and focus. But I could feel the exhaustion that is the partner of fear. It stealthily takes the joy and excitement and turns it into pushing and angst. I was maintaining, but not creating.

And so, of course, I moved into quietly sabotaging myself by leaving my computer, with all the meetings and information and press that I needed for the biggest day of the Toy Fair, in the cab that quickly sped away into the falling snow. And I didn’t realize it for an hour.

In that moment I made the worst choice I could make: I called myself stupid, got pissed off, and dove into victim hood. Now many would have thought I was handling this emergency rather consciously. I sought out a policewoman who did everything she could. Not even New York’s finest could get someone to answer the phone on a Sunday. She gave me the numbers of the police to report it. The women at the information booth kept encouraging me to “keep the faith.” But I had lost the faith in me: stupid people don’t deserve your faith, and I had eloquently and dramatically defined myself as just that.

I got back to the booth and said, “I might as well just go home for the day.” Shakespeare and all his drama had taken over this actress who knew better, but by this time I was deep into the drama.  I went for a walk, arms crossed, still defeating myself with this negative self talk. As I neared the end of the last aisle, I distinctly heard a voice…MY voice…say: “Dee. Do the work.”  I stopped in my tracks. OK, I said, this is the moment I get to choose, and I did. I said out loud, right there surrounded by puzzles and stuffed animals and kites and doll clothes:

I choose to love me.
I choose to know I am smart.
I choose to know there are great cab people in New York with beautiful integrity and I am turning this over to the Universe and God and all Energy.
Work it out.

I went back to the booth, and Lanny was holding my phone out to me. The cab driver had driven 50 blocks back to the apartment where he picked us up, told the doorman he had it, the doorman called Bob (it is his apartment), Bob took time to track down my public relations man in Los Angeles, who was now calling me to give me the cab driver’s personal number. The cab driver proceeded to drive all the way across town, again, to hand deliver this precious object to a now very joyful, very thankful and much more conscious Me. Needless to say, he got a great tip. I want to get him on Ellen. He restored faith in a lot of people that day. But mostly he taught the teacher to walk her own talk, and live the message of the little bear she is taking out to the world: you are loved, you are special, and you are taken care of.

Remember that we get to always choose to honor ourselves…no matter what…and that we are worthy to love ourselves enough to always rise to that choice.

Blessings, Dee