I love to learn, but I hate being told what to do. I don’t like being stuck, but I am determined to do it my way. I love people who are smart and wise, who love me and have a lot to offer, but I sometimes brush aside their suggestions without considering them fairly.

Are we sensing a theme here?

That I’m strong-willed is a given. Stubborn? You bet! I’m so stubborn, I regard the word a compliment! Because I know that the other side of stubbornness is tenacity. I’ve managed to accomplish a fair amount inside myself, in my relationships and in the world by sticking to my ideals and principles come hell or high water and mashing forward.

I’m not saying I’m a total blockhead. I’ve learned (sometimes the hard way; there’s a limit to how many times you can butt your head before you go a different way!) a thing or two about flexibility, ambiguity, the limitations of right vs. wrong thinking, and how talking to a stubborn person can feel to someone else. I have learned to soften my gaze, push less, breathe more, listen better, have a tiny bit more patience.

But too often there is a two-year-old inside me jumping up and down yelling, “You’re not the boss of me!”

And I’m starting to really, really feel, right down to my bones, how this is not always helpful. Right now, as I build my practice as author, editor and coach, I am blessed with a many kind, gifted mentors, teachers and guides. And there is still something in me that really wants to push back when they offer suggestions. I’m not talking about outlandish ideas. These folks may give me feedback that doesn’t fit; that’s going to happen. Take it or leave it is real. But they’re offering  thoughts that are always intended for my benefit, often quite excellent, sometimes brilliant.

I do listen. I even follow through a lot.

But I sure wish this toddler would settle down. And here’s what I’m seeing: She does settle down when I fully respect that this is her life, honor that she doesn’t have to do it alone and get really serious about the fact that outside help isn’t enough.

Older, wiser Gay has to take Toddler Gay to that private, personal well for a long, cool drink, then a great big hug. It’s not enough just to listen to outsiders. I have to show up every single day, with diligence (dare I say stubbornness) and listen to my own personal insider teacher, guide and mentor. When I am more open to me, I am more open to you.

When I do go to the well, Toddler Gay can relax, run and play. And Grown Up Gay can move into her day with dignity, power and grace.

There are more helpful  insights from my bumpy journey in my new book The Hungry Ghost: How I Ditched 100 Pounds and Came Fully Alive.