Lisa Nichols’ Staircase Analogy

OH-EM-GEE! Yeah, I’m saying it like a 13-year-old belieber.  Here I am typing hashtags in my blog and listening to a live stream of my favorite mentor in the world – Lisa Nichols.  Then, something was said.  The staircase analogy….please, let me share this with you.

Every individual on planet Earth has had personal problems. From the uber rich; to the uber poor. Look at it this way. Look at life as a staircase.

There are no elevators up to success. Everyone has to take the stairs. Ok, the uber rich families of Silicon Valley, Beijing, China’s ivory purchasing families, the UAE and their ultra-rich princes who construct man-made islands. They’re the exception. However, people who put their shoes on one after another, which is almost the majority of the population, had to build empires in the wake of so many failures and transgressions. Remember the turning points I mentioned in one of my Napoleon Hill blogs long ago? Let me refresh your memory by using the stairs analogy.

Floor 1 – Chanthaburi, Thailand.

The beginning. After a wave of insults, discrimination and ignorance, I found myself sitting on the stairs between the 1st and 2nd floor for quite some time. I was then confronted with FEAR. If I leave this job, will another job hire me? I took the leap of faith, packed my bags, and tip-toed out of my apartment one morning, en route for the south of Thailand. I hopped approximately ten floors in doing this.

Floor 20 – Nakhon Si Thammarat & Regression.

After taking off so much weight from quitting a job that had such a malicious boss (and it seems they come and live in Thailand by the herds), I rushed down to the shores of the south. In the first week, what a difference! Slowly but surely, I was going up the steps from floor-to-floor with ease. Then, what was happening in Chanthaburi became even worse in the south. Racism to the absolute core. It was a whirlwind that I couldn’t escape, even if I held onto the rails to wither out the storm. I saw myself taking massive steps backwards: depression, stress, anxiety, no way out.

I almost told myself, “you know what, this could work.” False hope. I knew opportunity was completely dead there, but I didn’t know what else I can do at the time, so I bolted. I stuck a finger in my boss’ face and told them to kiss my ass. I went to Penang, Malaysia and flew back into Bangkok. After that, the search began.

I realized over all of these years that I would digress, get ahead, and continue digressing. This all came in part of my last job. I was terrified of leaving because I wholeheartedly believed that there wasn’t another opportunity out there. Was I wrong? I absolutely was. The fact is I got more acquainted and associated with fear. I knew on the other side of it was sheer freedom and ecstasy.

When I was belittled, harassed and racially spewed upon by an ex Brit boss, I knew it was enough. I would always tell myself, for over two years: “I’m leaving this job. These people are racist in Pathumthani. The head b**** said she won’t hire anymore black people. Why am I still here?” I would talk, talk, and talk some more – but no action. It wasn’t until I had a mole-faced, seventy-year-old wife tourist in front of my face saying, “I don’t think you’re good enough. Your students are scared of you.”

That sent a tingling sensation down my spine telling me to leave. They don’t deserve your services. This language center is where retirees go for refuge and sexual activity with students and staff.

One month later, I moved to Bangkok. From January to March, I had to go to a job that made my chest hurt. I had my companies and opportunities, but it wasn’t until the full resignation, follow by the “I want to get back at him by taking his weekend classes” that fulfilled my dream of getting out of one of the most toxic, life-sucking environments I’ve been in since my first job in Sydney, Australia.

Where am I in the staircase? Past 100 floors.

I will continue going up. This is called growth. For 3.5 years, the longest I’ve ever worked at a company, I felt stagnant and lethargic. I didn’t have the burning desire to teach a soul there anymore. I was under a dictatorship that wanted me to teach from a measly book – one that didn’t provide the student with any tools in terms of being an efficient communicator. I had to leave. The shoulder shrugging became too much, and for the penniless wage I got, I burned my bridges and went running up the stairs as fast as I possibly could.

And that’s what I’m doing today.

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