Reverb 10: Core Story

by Dian Reid-Jancic· Follow Dian on

My core story has been shared haphazardly this year. I’ve had moments of brilliance, and moments of disregard. I’ve not honored myself in the way I wanted to this year. This is not judgment and I’m not beating myself up over it, I’m simply acknowledging what I see to be true.

What central story is at the core of you, and how do you share it with the world?

Bonus: Consider your reflections from this month. Look through them to discover a thread you may not have noticed until today.

~ Molly O’Neill

I see myself as a scared little girl, still so afraid of the world around her. Still afraid that what she’ll put out into the world will be useless. I won’t connect with enough people. It won’t resonate with the people I want it to. I won’t be good enough, I won’t be strong enough, I won’t be enough. I see that thread throughout my stories in 2011.

Even in hiding, I’ve shared bold offerings of who I am; the hiding comes in the form of pressing publish and not carrying that movement forward. I’m sticking with no resolutions for 2011, although I do have specific goals to work toward. Not in the way of make $x by x date, but more like: be of service to the people who matter most to me and put my heart on the line and allow it to be scarred.


In 2009 I witnessed a coaching session while I was in training that blew my mind. The coachee, we’ll call her Betty, and the coach, we’ll call him Bob. Betty was afraid of moving forward, afraid of getting hurt. Afraid her heart was too scarred to make a difference. Afraid she didn’t have anything left to be of service to anyone. Afraid of putting her heart back on the chopping block, for fear she would be broken forever. Bob refused let this fear get in the way of her service.

Hearts are meant to be scarred, he said. A scarred heart has the credentials to be of the most service. The experience of all the hurt, of all the pain [her] heart has ever felt would lead into serving [her] clients well. Hearts aren’t meant to be pristine, but to experience life—there is learning and healing and growth in scarring. Those scars would lead [her] down a path of growth, and be a valuable tool in that growth.

This moment has been in the back of my mind ever since I witnessed its unfolding. I secretly wished I’d been Betty. I secretly wished I’d been the one who bared her soul in front of the class. I secretly wished mine had been the scarred heart Bob coaxed gently out of hiding. Today I realize I don’t need Bob to do that. The path has already been shown, and now it’s time for me to walk it.


I’ve certainly come more out of hiding in 2010 as a result of asking it of myself at the end of 2009. And still, there’s more hiding to shed. I fear my heart is not scarred near enough to have wisdom worth sharing with others.

I’ve been able to share pieces of myself here in this blog, and now I’m ready *gulp* to take the next step. More clients. More education. More tangible goodies. More feedback. More growth. More me. Not necessarily in that order.

My word for 2010 was movement. Momentum is what I intend for 2011.

What I want from this next year is to grow. Grow financially. Grow physically. Grow mentally. Grow spiritually.

I want to keep moving in the growth that’s already begun. I want to take this momentum and run with it. Really run. Not just jog, trotting along at a comfortable pace. Not sprint, tiring out in the first few weeks. But run. Steady, and paced. With moments of rest and rejuvenation. The momentum has not shifted, it’s simply gathered some speed at the end of ’10. I can feel the breeze on my cheeks, the wind in my hair, the cold air pumping in and out of my lungs.

I have no race to win, just a body, a life, a mind to keep healthy.

And so it is.

This post is written as Day 31 of Reverb 10, inspired and created by Gwen Bell (Best of ’09) and her rockingly awesome cohorts. Are you reverbing too? I’d love for you to share yourself in the comments below.

{ 1 comment }

Angela January.1.2011 at 2.34 pm

Yesterday I took Gracie to a vet cardiologist because her regular vet heard a heart murmur and wanted her to have an ultrasound to see if there was heart disease. Gracie is 16, and the cardiologist just kept saying, about her thankfully “mild to moderate” valve problems, “She’s earned it.” Such a great way of looking at ourselves, from scars to wrinkles to wearing-out parts: we’ve earned them. And, I would add, they’re beautiful. Happy New Year of Momentum!

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