Okay, so one of the big themes on this blog is biggification — the art of putting yourself out there and growing that cool thing you do (or want to do) — and how to do that mindfully.

And one of the scariest parts of mindful biggification is pricing.

Pricing as in: choosing or recognizing what you want to charge for the things you offer, and feeling okay with it. Or maybe even good about it.

It’s all about the hating.

Some people hate incredibly tacky Christmas decorations. Some people hate cherry Coke. Or, you know, things like racism and war.

Me? I hate charades. Not “people pretending to be something they aren’t”, though I’m willing to concede that this could also be pretty annoying. The game.

There’s this thing — yes, a thing, don’t make me get all specific — that invariably comes up when you talk to people about habits and how their habits work.

And this thing annoys the pants off of pretty much everybody.

Here’s what happens.

You work really, really, really hard to establish a habit. A new, healthy, good-for-you, good-for-your-life habit. Eventually, with effort, patience, and god knows what else, you reach the hooray point where it’s actually kind of happening.

But then … something happens.

There’s this funny thing that’s actually not funny at all that happens when you write a blog. You start writing posts in your head.

All the time.

It’s not you. No, no. Not you. It’s just that all sorts of semi-random concepts, incidents and overheard sentences start winking at you lasciviously with knowing come-hither smiles.

Or worse, they pout that if you don’t write a post about them, oh, they will be so sad.

Before you know it, you’re digging around in your bag for the cellphone you never use so you can Jott yourself six post ideas before they disappear into the ether..

It’s that truckload of criticism again. Criticism — the unasked-for kind that’s chock full of hurtful judgments — is no fun, to say the least.

That’s not exactly news.

But aside from the unpleasantness of it all, the experience of being criticised makes everything else harder. And then, oh boy, let the second-guessing begin.

No, really, don’t make me leave my comfort zone! For some reason, all sorts of people seem determined to push you out of where you’re comfortable to where you’re …. well … uncomfortable. Which is bizarre enough that it’s worthwhile to find out why.

Just so you know, I personally have zero patience with the whole “you have to leave your comfort zone if you want to make changes” thing. Not just because it’s a tired cliche of the “think out of the box” sort. Not just because it’s an annoying self-help-ey trend. But because it’s a seriously bad idea.

But I just don’t have time! There is this weird and yet totally understandable thing that happens to people (and by people I mean: me and everyone I know). It happens when you find yourself in deep procrastination avoidance, in deep freak-out mode, or both.

Here’s what it’s like: You remember this really good technique. You know it works. You remember that using it makes everything better every time. And yet … exactly. You’re not using it. And you’re not going to. Why? Because you don’t have the time! (Insert fist-shaking and groaning as necessary).

A friend of mine recently closed his yoga studio and went back to wearing a suit to work. (I mean, is that every yogi’s nightmare or what?) He said something about financial stresses and taking care of his family, but I can’t help thinking about something else that happened a while back.

Yep, everyone’s got issues and money is one of those things that will always set them off. It’s a button-pusher for sure. Maybe even the button-pusher. And to make it even more complicated, those issues aren’t just about money itself …

I want you to know that it took me over a year to get around to reading Michael Port’s book “Book Yourself Solid”. Yes, I’m a procrastination expert, and yes, and it took me a year to read a book I actually wanted to read. It actually wasn’t about being in avoidance. It was more about consciously working through my layers of discomfort so I could get to the point where it wouldn’t be interfering with my interaction with the book. There was just a lot to work through.