Fear, Faith, and Dreaming

I met my poet friend for tea today and to talk about my current attempt at finding myself. I always feel better after talking to him. He always makes me feel like my dreams aren’t too stupid or too big. I’ve been going back and forth about the whole employment thing. He doesn’t have a “job.” His art is his job. He gets paid for numerous different skills he has and things he does well. I always tell him I want to be where he is. And I do. I get so tired of working to make someone else successful and still feeling like a failure. Prior to meeting with him, I had been teetering on the idea of not getting a “job.’ Not that I’m just going to sit at home unemployed, but I think I want to change my plan a bit and change the way I have always done things. They say that you manifest your own destiny. I’m a firm believer in that and I’m a firm believer in Karma. I was telling him that I feel like now is my time. Now is the time that I need to decide what I want to do and then go after it like a woman who has lost her kid in the zoo. I’ve always been good to people and I feel like if Karma is going to come back around, then why not ask for it now?  The last couple months, I’ve pondered all the possible things that I could do for myself. I pondered all the possible businesses I could run. I was thinking, I could run a granite shop if I just had someone to invest in  me. I mean, I was doing a really good job of running one for someone else so why shouldn’t I just run one for myself? Oh, yeah, because I don’t give a shit about granite. And then, I went and looked at a building that was for rent in my neighborhood and I thought, I could open up a coffee shop if I just had someone to invest in me. I thought, there’s no coffee shops on this side of town, why couldn’t I run a coffee shop? Ah, because I don’t give a shit about coffee. I don’t even drink it. I do enjoy a good spicy chai latte when I can find one, but alas, I am not a coffee connoisseur.  Then I went into the dry cleaners down the street that is for sale and I spoke to the owners. The price was super reasonable, but the business is struggling and not unlike the granite shop I just left, the owner was not a business man and did not know how to make a profit. And, let’s face it, I don’t know shit or give a shit about dry cleaning. I thought of all the possible things I could do so that I could have my own business and not have to work for someone, but the more I question what it is I want to do, the less answers I am coming up with. I don’t want to put in 15 hours a day doing granite. I don’t want to put in 15 hours a day making coffee. I don’t want to put in 15 hours a day cleaning blood and wine off other people’s dirty clothes. What, if anything, would I be happy doing for 15 hours a day? That was the resounding question that has continued to wrack my brain. The one and only answer is writing.  I could easily write for fifteen hours a day or at least do writing related tasks. I was telling my friend today, that I know I am not the world’s most talented writer. There are a lot of writer’s with way more talent, but I’m also not the world’s worst writer either. I acknowledge that in some ways I have a gift or a small talent for entertaining people with my words. Aside from my children, my writing is the only other thing that I even give myself partial credit for being good at. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I am “good” at lots of things, especially things that make other people successful. I’m good on a computer, I’m good on the phones, I’m excellent with customer service, not so bad at social media marketing. I have lots of “things” that I know how to do and that I’ve done successfully, but not one of those things makes me happy.  And so, I’ve decided that I cannot keep working forty to sixty hours a week for the success of someone else while my own dreams and goals go on the backburner. I don’t want to get a regular “job.” And although this may be the scariest road I’ve ever gone down, I have decided that I am going to give writing a try. Of course, I have to come up with some sort of gig I can use to make money, so I am taking suggestions for that because I am not one of the lucky writers who has a significant other who will say to me, go ahead, take six months off and see what happens. I still have a house to maintain and dogs to feed and a kid to raise, so is it terrifying to think of how I will do those things? Yes, it is as terrifying as thinking about jumping out of a plane knowing damn well that I have always been scared of heights, but there is a calming voice inside me that is telling me it is time to have faith. So I am going to try to do something to fulfill my lifelong dream of being a successful writer. Am I ok with struggling? Yes. Am I horrified? Yes. Will I quit because I am stepping out of my comfort zone? I really hope not. So, friends, here’s to new beginnings and to following your dreams. I’m not actually holding up a glass of wine because it’s 1pm, but if you are, then cheers! Wish me luck.