A few days ago I was asked to participate in a promotional venture of which I had serious reservations. Now, let’s be clear here – I am thirty plus years past the age of majority, no one had a gun to my head, and no one had to contribute if they felt uncomfortable. On top of that, all my lights were flashing red, but I went ahead and did it anyway. And even as I did, I knew I had made a mistake. On the way home in the car, I knew I had made a mistake. That night when I couldn’t sleep, I knew I had made a dreadful mistake.
The next day I fought with myself, tried to rationalize, convince myself I was blowing it way out of proportion. It didn’t work. Early the next morning, I jumped on the computer and begged the organizers to delete my contribution. Within minutes (which surprised me because this was very early in the morning) one of them wrote back and said “No sweat. I’ll take you out.” Within the next hour, the other two organizers contacted me and took care of everything. And what did I learn from this?
First, I ignore what one of my friends calls “the infallible voice of intuition” at my own peril. My body, which was just beginning to recover, has been dealt another blow with all the emotional turmoil I put it through. When my conscience – which sounds scarily like my mother’s voice – says, “This is not for you,” I best listen.
Second, even if everyone else on the planet is fine with something, that does not make it right for me.
And third, I realized as never before that I am surrounded by good people, who, though they might not have understood my negative reaction, showed me respect and kindness and moved quickly to help me.
Oh, and one last thing, if I had waited even just a matter of hours longer before contacting the organizers, it would have been too late to do anything about it.
Intuition. What a wonderful thing.
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