How Entitlement Begins

I’ve been on the fence lately about promoting myself to a greater extent. That is, I don’t really dig into my expertise as deeply as I ought to do.
Nor do I feel comfortable sharing my rates and offerings prices.

But, how am I going to earn a living if I don’t promote my work?

That’s the quandary for most creatives. We can do the work, but when it comes to the financial end or the marketing, we fall apart.

No one will want my offering.

I’m not good enough to ask for that much money.

I don’t know what I’m doing.

I’m faking it.

I’m small potatoes. No one wants to take a chance on an unknown.

And yet, what I do is personal, professional, craft worthy and especially, right on target with what my niche wants.

I’m a memoir writing coach who is known for helping my clients tell their stories in their own words so they can leave a legacy for their families, peers and friends.
I’m a conduit between client and story.
Between the writing and published books.
Between here and there.
Yep, I help them visit the past and come away with a new understanding and awareness of how their past mistakes, judgements, successes and failures have all helped them become who they are today. And, why their families want to know who they are on a deeper level.

Just being Auntie or Uncle isn’t enough anymore. We must stand out in some way.

And, we all do!

We have a lifeline to the past as we live today and look forward to the future tomorrows.

Going into the past helps take the sting out of labels and words that hurt years ago.

You can’t date my son. Your mother was divorced.

Your father isn’t a doctor. You can’t be friends with my daughter.

Your sister had a baby out of wedlock. Stay away….it might be catching!

Your family isn’t good enough.

You don’t live in the right neighborhood.

I can go on and on. Life has improved. Things are different today than they were 40 years or so ago.

But, really, are they?

Marriages still fall apart.
The poor are shunned instead of helped up into a better life style.
Too many kids don’t know much about babies and where they come from.

While the odds are stacked against happy ever after more now than ever before, we hold those ‘proper and time honored’ fantasies tightly in our hearts.

We want to believe that good people always win.
We want to believe in the positive while religiously watching what the negative news channels have to say.
We want the stars and the moon and the good life.

We just don’t want to have to work for it.

We don’t want to do the work to change beliefs. Especially the ones taught to us when we were young. That takes understanding other cultures, races and societies. That takes acknowledging others — the different ones.

Our minds say interaction between cultures and societies and races is fine. Our emotions and dark secrets say, “Nope. Not gonna happen.”

We see it in the politics of our times.

Politicians race to the bottom to curry favor with the side they think will win. Personal beliefs go out the window when it comes to power, prestige and money. And it doesn’t begin as an adult.

It starts when we’re kids. We see it acted out by the adults in our lives, by our families and friends.

Ultimately, we don’t even realize just how deeply we’re affected.
Today’s kids are growing up with all the advantages of education and knowledge at their fingertips. They have computers, money and educational choices earlier generations didn’t have.

My granddaughter goes to her first (preschool) dance tonight.
With mom and dad.
She’s 4 years old and very excited.

My first dance was when I was 10.
I begged my parents to let me go.
I didn’t want to be the only one who didn’t go.
I wanted to fit in. Be like everyone else.

A girl in my class wore the same exact dress as mine. I was embarrassed.
I was also annoyed that someone else wore ‘my’ dress.
I wanted to stand out.
Be special.
Have the boys look at me and not someone else.

At 10 years old, I knew the difference between attention and being invisible.

So, instead of pouting in front of her, I squealed…. “We’re twins!”

Of course we were far from being twins.

I was petite, small boned, dainty even. She was not.

I was pretty. She was average.

My teeth were straight; she wore braces.

I secretly wanted to be the ‘belle of the ball.’

I looked her up and down.
With a very satisfied nod,
I knew the dress looked better on me.

And, that, my friends, is how the ‘us vs. them’ culture of entitlement begins.