I Choose Imperfect

My perfectionist is a little girl of seven or eight. She sits on my shoulder, her perfect pigtails clipped with little pink bows. She wears a polka dot dress and shakes her finger at me. “Your office is a mess,” she says. “You should have your...

Are Screaming Monkeys Drowning Out Your Mission?

I woke up at 3 a.m. last night and my monkeys were screaming. They were yelling about how useless I am and how my business isn’t as successful as it should be. They were howling in my ear that I am nothing and should just quit. Then they really got excited and...