My income is incredible, there's no getting around it. I can do what I want, buy whatever I drool over, take vacations, stop fretting about moola, no more complaining about not enough...because I consistently raise my rates.
The last bump was about a month ago. I pushed the rate by $5 and started to see benefits of the roll-out immediately. I could envision Running With The Wolves, paying for my daughter's wedding reception, contributing consistently to Hurricane Harney victims, complete satisfaction until....
Noticed my angst during the first overnight gig. Guilt started stretching my endorphins. It caused me to clean as I went, versus a once-over at the end of the job. I fretted about the biodegrading poop in the yard, emptied already full waste baskets, wiped window streaks clean, swept the one or two dog hairs as the pup marched across the floor, watered plants, met the mailman at the door, baked homemade dog treats with ingredients I purchased, made the beds like a navy officer, picked up and delivered a client's birthday cake in Timbuktu. Denounced delayed gratification of a great effort by doing the work of ten. My "You'll find the place cleaner than you left it" turned into the Tasmanian Devil Mr Clean.
I was making up for the increase in fees by doubling and tripling my best offering. My effort was driven by the indirect message that I couldn't ask for more, I had to prove my worth, my value, my benefit by overextending, overgiving, overfuncitoning, overboarding. Now that's messed-up!
I'm glad I discovered the frenzied buzzkill so I could take note, make an adjustment, be present to my own needs, wants, commitment, while still fulfilling my great services.
I don't have to do the work of ten, I provide plenty, with grace and ease.
And that IS enough!
Where have you OVERPLAYED your part?
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