People always ask me:

 

“Tell me about that time you were cleaning toilets/homes to make ends meet” – hoping for a rock bottom story.

You know what?

That time in my life was deeply empowering.

And I still had a shit ton of privilege, because I didn't need an additional 3 jobs to keep us afloat. I was home before dinner.

And that home was deeply loving and safe.

 

Why did I love this season so much?

For the first time ever, after a career in which I often got paid in “exposure”, I was able to go out, do stuff, come home with money in my pocket.

 

And I didn't just clean.

I created MAGIC.

I'd declutter people's homes.

 

Upsold them essential oil-infused cleaning products I made myself (I didn't want to work with the chemical stuff because I was super pregnant).

And I loved people coming home and **GASPING** because everything was not just fresh, it was transformed.

Honestly, I think this goes back to people looking down on manual labor. Just like people pretend/think that day labourers who grow and harvest our food are “unskilled”.

 

All work is skilled.

All work needs to be honored.

All workers should be valued.

 

With every home I cleaned, I stripped away generational patterns of helplessness and scarcity.

And I fondly remember those days as I biked through town, big pregnant tummy and all.

18 months later (and another baby later lol), I'd used the $7 an hour money to not only pay for groceries but buy myself my first online course. 

And a large stack of books on sales, marketing, wealth, abundance, and more. 

I remember walking into a shoe store after my first successful months in business, and buying myself shoes for the first time in 6 years. 

 

6 years of wearing my much younger sister's hand-me-downs. 

6 years of just wearing the same old, run-down sneakers. 

6 years of never going on vacation. 

6 years of biking everywhere. 

6 years of discovering that wealth is alive in every moment of joy.

 

I bought myself a pair of golden sneakers (all the rage that year), and I promised myself I'd be a millionaire by the time I was 30 – my “Millionaire Shoes”.

 

I still wear them to this day, they're a little bit run down, but nostalgia tastes sweet. 

 

And yes, I did become a millionaire by the age of 30. 

 

XO, 

Merel 

Just wanted to share that.