The Year of Magical Dreaming

This IS My Fairy Tale

I journal daily. I call them my morning pages, but when–lately–I’m writing in bed past midnight next to a huffing and puffing, Elisa, audibly expressing her frustration, I am sure that’s not what Julia Cameron meant by morning, nor the ideal setting for stream of consciousness anything.

In my “afternoon” pages yesterday, I recounted the events of my weekend, still puzzled, excited, nervous, uncomfortable, you name it.

My weekend was a little strange, to say the least.

Saving you the details, I was fired from one studio, let’s just say for “creative differences,” on Saturday.¬†And then not even 24 hours later, I was “let go” from another studio whose management was in the midst of an overhaul of which somehow I got left out.

Both, complete and total surprises. And both, I’m convinced: Complete. Divine. Intervention.

OK, just some of the details …

When I opened my inbox on Saturday to unveil the utter disappointment of my boss with how I’d taught class Friday, I was startled at the finality of it all, and yet also relieved.

She never said the word “fired,” but “turn in your keys” is perhaps the 20-15 way to say just that. Beware;)

My ego took the first hit: Fired? I haven’t been fired since Olive Garden, my first restaurant job, sophomore year of college. I practically begged to be fired from that God-awful garlic infested prison.

Then the relief washed over me. Truth was that I had felt like a perfect square trying to fit into a round hole since I began working at this studio. And this was the universe’s way of saying, “you’re wasting your time, darling.”

Sunday’s email came as another total shock. I’d been in contact with the old management about the new management and somewhere within the mess of the holidays was a mix-up of my intentions to move forward with the new team. I was out. And that was it. No discussion.

The panic of not one, but two rugs being pulled out from underneath me began to bubble up. Yet this weird calm was also about me in this cocky, “I know what’s going on here,” kinda way.

These jobs had been my cushion, my safety blanket, my woobie, much like bartending had been for so many years.

In a panic, I did what I always do. I got on Craigslist.

When the incessant scrolling turned up nothing but further steps backward, I accepted my fate. Once again, I was being pushed off the diving board.

And here I am flopping around anxiously, desperately trying to make it look like a stroke. Effortless.

I am in that delicious uncomfortable space that I encourage all my clients to embrace. How’s that for karma;)

Deep down I know I’m being asked to step up. I’m being encouraged to use more of my talents and to let go of the woobie, because I won’t need it where I’m headed.

And yet all this discomfort has struck so many of the old chords. Flashes of wanting to run and escape (my old patterns) have offered momentary temptations.

When Elisa came home Sunday evening, she sensed right away my nervousness. I broke the news calmly and confidently, but when she came over to hug me, to tell me everything would be OK, I fell to pieces right in her arms.

“I got you. I got you, baby,” was all she said.

My tears were more from a place of frustration: I don’t want her to “have me.” I want to have you! That’s all I’ve ever wanted was to be able to take care of everybody.

Then she said them. The words I always longed to hear as a kid. She says them often: “I believe in you.”

She continued, “I’m already so proud of you. I am more than confident that you will take care of me and our family one day. You already do in so many ways.”

As I wrote my pages yesterday, I went through all my gratitude: for all the lessons coming my way, for all the positive support in my life, for my love who couldn’t be more perfect (for me, at least), for a passion that drives me and a purpose that fulfills me greatly, and for having the energy and will to constantly push forward.

I might not have chosen for it all to look like this right now, but I trust that this is the process. This is where the magic happens. This IS my fairy tale.

I am the luckiest woman in the world to walk this path, to learn these lessons and to be so heavenly supported along the way.

Thank you for showing me how to love and how to live. Thank you for sticking by me when I pushed you away. Thank you for bringing me Elisa and having trusted me with this great love.

Thank you for it all. Every last bit.

I’m not waiting on the “happily ever after,” it may not ever come as I imagined it. Instead, I’m embracing these moments of discomfort cradled by immense love and trust and abundance and possibility.

Besides, every time I try to plan my future, the universe always seems to have something bigger and brighter up her sleeve.

So, I’m back to my first ever mantra. The one that says it all: Trust, trust, trust.

All I know is that big things are in store. Because there’s no where to go, but up.

I leave you with this: Up, up and away, my darling.


Much Love,


Kat Hurley is a transformational author, speaker and personal development coach, making over motivation @The Year of Magical Dreaming. For the full 411, visit, yo!