It's Never Too Late To Say Sorry
I'm sorry.
I'm usually a woman of my word, and I was not.
Just a few weeks ago, I said that next week we were launching The Compassion Collective, a place where you can feel supported while you support others, and I meant it.
And then life happened.
Not sure if you know this, but my family and I are moving across country.
That's right, we are saying goodbye and see you later to our beautiful community and life in Hood River, Oregon to return to the place where Ayla was born, Austin,Texas. You may have thoughts, feelings, questions, and maybe even judgments, and that is okay.
The truth is CHANGE can be HARD and CONFUSING, even when we choose it. This is a perfect example of the definition of grief we use at The Grief Recovery Institute, "the conflicting feelings that come at the end of or change in a familiar pattern of behavior." As Ayla, my 5.5 year old daughter so eloquently put it, "moving comes with a mixture of emotions. I feel sad, and I feel excited. I even feel scared."
She couldn't have described my feelings more accurately. Now, moving with all the grief it includes does not take into account officiating my sister-in-law's (and now brother-in-law’s) Covid compliant wedding, saying goodbye to our nanny, oh and don't forget a global pandemic and the social change afoot... no wonder I have been all over the emotional map.
Taking one baby step each day and being present to ALL of my feelings is literally the best I can do at this point.
Did I mention we have a 2 and 5 year old?!
As I write this I almost feel a sense of pride for how well we are doing and feeling it all.
So coming back to my integrity and feeling the need to apologize. I had every intention to begin The Compassion Collective at the end of July (3 days before our lease ended) and then I realized just because I CAN, does not mean I SHOULD.
What I wanted -- to launch, to grow the world's compassionate communication and connection, to give you support in your tough conversation, and the list goes on.
What I needed – to slow down, take a breath, focus on my family, moving, my officiating duties, and ultimately postpone the open door date to The Collective community by a few weeks (I will be announcing the new start date soon!)
Since another thing I stand for is self-compassion, and taking care of myself so I can more effectively care for others... this did feel aligned.
So there you have it.
I apologize for saying one thing and doing another. AND I appreciate your compassion for me and my experience.
What I hope you gain from this email is PERMISSION to take care of yourself, as well as permission to apologize. It is never too late to say sorry, and it does require some humility:).
If you have no idea what I am talking about with The Compassion Collective, check it out here.
Here's my intention once we get settled in a couple weeks: we do what we said, and we launch The Compassion Collective Community Membership, a place where we will make my tools and guidance easy and accessible for more people... people who genuinely care about others and who just don’t feel 100% confident navigating those big emotional or confrontational situations with ease.
Because let's face it, every day we are faced with uncomfortable conversations that would benefit from a little extra compassion. This includes topics like social distancing, boundaries, school leadership, virtual connection, navigating family relationships, and communicating feelings of vulnerability, insecurity, grief, and anxiety in times of uncertainty.
Walking my talk means having this tough conversation and others, loving myself even when I unintentionally disappoint others, apologizing for my part, and then working to continue evolving and improving along the way.
Thanks for your support, love, and understanding through this transition.
Join the waitlist at www.laurajack.com/waitlist if you haven't already, and we will begin our journey together soon.
Below is the couple I had the privilege to officiate for this past weekend. They are as beautiful inside as they are outside.
