entrepreneur – Juniper and Daisies

It’s what we’re all reaching for: success. It’s why we make goals, why we #hustle everything, why we need the fancy desk because we’re all going to be #bossbabes. Sorry, I cringed when I wrote out that hashtag, probably as hard as you cringed reading it. Whatever you call yourself (hey, maybe just boss instead of boss babe?), you’re gearing up for success. It doesn’t matter what success looks like to you.

Except, what if you keep stopping yourself? What if you make out all of these plans, plan out all of these goals, start working on them, and then just run head first into a wall? This keeps happening to me, time and time again. I feel great, I do great, I’m chugging along and eating up those goals like Ms. Pacman on a bender. And, then I stop. Something inside of me stops me before I can go further. I claim it to be laziness, but I’ve gotten this far with my laziness, so why can’t I go a few extra steps? A week behind schedule is just fine, right?

Not when that week turns into two. Then, turns into a month. Then, turns into a year — or more. If you’re continuing with other activities, other projects and hobbies, then it’s not laziness that’s keeping you rooted to the spot, it has to be something else. Are you afraid of success? I sure as fuck am.

We scream at the top of our lungs, happy and joyous for anyone meeting their goals. We hammer home how important it is to keep to-do lists, to check up on them every so often, make sure you’re still on track. We tell everyone that tweaking goals is essential to growing. It’s what we all want, what we all aim for, but it can seem daunting to actually make it. To be a success. To reach those goals and dreams you dreamed up long ago.

If there’s one more thing you could be doing to reach your goals, to get you closer to your dreams so that you can snatch them out of the sky, would you actually do it? What’s stopping you from going that extra mile, or hell, even a few steps? You’ve come this far, so what gives? The fear of failure far outweighs the fear of success. Because, isn’t that why we’re afraid of success in the first place? We’re all just afraid we’re going to go for it and fail?

We probably will fail. We will fail a time or two, as only the Chosen Few don’t. It’s okay to fail. It’s okay to make mistakes. All you have to do is get up, brush the dirt off your knees and go around that mistake. It can take years and many mistakes to make it to where you want to be, and that’s okay. It’s okay to take our time and learn and grow. It’s okay to be vulnerable and put ourselves out there, even as we worry that people will laugh and point and judge us as we make these mistakes. It feels like the whole world will be laughing when you declare your dreams and they declare them a pipe dream, rolling their eyes in your face. It will feel like you’re being cut down before your prime, before you get to even move towards your prime, and if you stay where you are, that’s exactly what will happen to you.

Having a simple life is well and good. I yearn for a simple life. A simple life full of lavish vacations and a killer wardrobe, and delicious food, but a simple…ish life nonetheless. Wanting to stay where you are because you like where you are is so different from staying rooted to the gound because you are too afraid to move.

I’m not sure how I’ll work past this success fear of mine. Perhaps, I’ll go at it a day at a time, a small goal at a time, going a little slower than anticipated, but moving in the right direction. That hasn’t really been working for me all these years, though. Maybe it all comes down to self-love and realizing that you’re worth the sacrifices you sometimes have to make, that you’re worth chasing your dreams and being happy. Maybe you have to ignore the end goal and just keep working until you stumble upon it one morning. Most likely, it’s all of the above.

I know that I’ll still be afraid, afraid to push myself to the next level, afraid of what comes next. What if I become too successful and turn into an asshole? What if I make it and realize that I’ve made a horrible mistake? What if there is too much change and, being someone who can’t handle change, I become anxious and too stressed to enjoy my success? These are all too many ‘what ifs’ with far too many variables. There’s no way I can control all of them, no matter how hard I try.

I’ve still felt success, even though I’m not successful in the grand scheme of things, even though I’m not successful in the eyes of the world. I felt that success when one of my favourite writers commented on my work. When I made my first penny (literally pennies) on my work. When a stranger got excited about the ideas I put out there. Those are all successes, and I came through unscathed. I made it. Perhaps it’s about time I let go of all of these silly ‘what ifs’ and think of my big goals as the same as those stepping stones to get there: a success I can handle.

I used to be ashamed of my work background. Ashamed I couldn’t hold a job for more than 3 years, ashamed that I kept quitting and moving on. In the gig world, this doesn’t seem crazy. It’s the normalcy of life.

In the old school world of being a company man or woman, it’s ludicrous.

Whenever I’d send a Resume to a job I kinda sorta wanted I’d worry about the employer taking one look and seeing that I had tons of experience, but that I left a job every 2–3 years. How would that reflect on me and my capabilities?Would they go with someone with less experience, but who was loyal to their employers? The one(s) who would stay with a company for years, sucking away at benefits and pension plans?

It always made me nervous, but it shouldn’t have. Perhaps the thought of me ‘kinda sorta’ wanting the job should have made me more nervous than what my Resume said. It was always a means to an end, never something I truly saw myself in for years to come. Nothing that I assumed I’d be retiring from in my 60s. It was always something to do, something to try, something more to see, instead of a life-long career.

When I was younger, my goal was simple: I had to do everything. I wanted to be a ballerina, a singer, a model, a police officer, a swimmer in the Olympics, Prime Minister, and of course, a writer. Maybe I’d be an actor, too. I’d definitely be a lawyer, then an all-reigning judge. Always, always, I’d be living in New York and driving a Lamborghini.

Well, I don’t live in New York and I don’t think I’ll end up driving a Lamborghini in my life, but I’ve done a lot of things besides that. None of which have been in the realm of the above, of course. Except for writing, but even that turned out to be far different than I had imagined as a little kid.

I’ve been fully unemployed, tasting freedom while simultaneously being stressed to the max. I’ve worked in retail. I’ve worked administrative jobs. I’ve been in real estate, both as a Realtor and as an assistant. I’ve managed social media accounts as an actual job. I’ve managed a full sales team, painstakingly taking notes and stats on every single member. I’ve reviewed business plans and helped immigrants start a new life in a new country. I’ve bought LSAT textbooks, ready to take the exam, but backed out when I realized it wasn’t my dream. At 80+ hours a week, it better damn well be your dream. And, of course, I’ve written. A lot. Of everything. But, not the numerous best-selling books that my 13-year old self assumed I’d be penning.

Mainly, a lot of poorly paid bullshit that helped me gain confidence in my writing, at least partly. Do you ever feel truly confident in your writing, in your pitches, in handing in an assignment?

But, throughout all of those jobs, both good and bad and horrible and wonderful, I’ve learned something from each of them. Not all jobs are going to be dream jobs, even if it’s your dream you are in. Like writing. That shit is a mess that will never be cleaned up, but it’s been evolving throughout the years, changing course as I do the same in other areas of life.

I’ve had three difference blogs, each growing in different ways and niches. From my Captain Pirate Pete on tumblr where I shouted to the world that I once ate a button (completely true. Yes, I was drunk. No, not the entire button), and gushed about my ‘92 Tempo. To my traveling blog, dedicated to a subject I loved, but quickly shut down when I started comparing myself to those better traveled and better equipped with fancy cameras and poses in front of mountains and buildings and flowy dresses in souks. But, that was okay. Because I still wanted to do more. Because for someone who hates change, I absolutely love making career changes. Now, I’ve my own lifestyle blog (I guess who doesn’t today) that isn’t wildly successful, but it gives me great pleasure.

I get to write what I want and people read it. How absolutely novel!

Except you can’t necessarily make a living just writing what you want to.

While I was having fun and falling in love with writing again, shame followed closely behind me, urging me to find a better paying job, one that looked good on paper and sounded much nicer than the ill-defined I’m a Writer. It’s hard answering the question who do you write for? when you don’t always write for anyone, and you very rarely write for anyone people would have heard of.

So, instead of going for what I truly wanted, I kept going for jobs that I kinda sorta wanted. And, I kept feeling the same as I did before. I’d feel stuck, I’d feel stressed, I’d hate most of my days, but stuck it out just so people would think I was accomplished.

You’d think that in 2019, when people aren’t so quick to judge others, that all kinds of lives are the new normal, I wouldn’t be feeling this way. That anyone wouldn’t be feeling this way. How is it that we have gotten past race (for the most part), gender (for the most part), and sexuality (for the most part), but we still hold onto the career? The idea that everyone needs to be incredibly successful and needs to stay in the same job for years to come? We still look at how much someone gets paid as their success, we still look at a promotion as a success, and those things are great successes. But, they’re not the only measurement of success. Looking good on paper doesn’t always translate into real life, and the same goes with looking disorganized or all over the place.

I’m only 30. A spry, young age for someone to have held so many jobs. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. I’ve never found something that stuck, something that made me enough money to support myself AND made me feel good. Because it’s not just that perfect career we’re after, it’s the feeling of accomplishment, the feeling that you’re living your dream. So, I kept looking for one without thinking about it, without wanting to settle, but was still unsure of where I wanted to go. Because that kept changing.

I jumped into real estate after coming home from my office job, the coveted office job I had wanted for so long, salivating at the clothes I could wear, the heels I could buy and the tumblers of coffee I’d tote to work, and asked myself Is this it? Do I really just work 8–4 and come home tired and exhausted from semantics and gossip and budget reviews every day for the rest of my life? Living how I wanted to in the evenings or for two full days on the weekends?

Is this all there is? TV and small vacations?

Before you jump to conclusions, no I’m not touting any of that ‘live your life and work where you want’ freelance stuff. Enough of us have been there, and that’s not exactly how it works out. All beaches and sunsets and laptops. But, I hated the idea that my time wasn’t mine anymore. Had I worked so hard (alright, moderately hard) in University just to do some entry-level job that had me going nowhere?

I became instantly horrified at the idea that this was adulthood and that This. Was.It. Why we all go grab a degree, what we were all reaching for. It may seem like I was meant for the freelancer life, that the regular 9–5 schtick wasn’t for me, and maybe that’s true. But, it wasn’t just the annoyance of having limited freedom, it was that my goal of getting an office job and bringing home a steady income was already met. It didn’t matter what office job I had at the time, as long as it was an office job. Anything but working until midnight. I didn’t know if I could do anything else. Which sounds beyond absurd. But, I couldn’t make huge life decisions on a whim like in University because I had a mortgage to pay, I had responsiblities, but I had no more goals.

I felt suffocated.

I needed to pivot, to change what I was doing. And, I loved it.

Turns out, changing my career every so often helped me feel better about myself and helped me feel like I was achieving everything I wanted to. Because you don’t get to do everything by staying in one job for the rest of your life. I realized that I can keep adding on new goals and pivoting when something doesn’t feel right.

And, that’s the word to use: pivot. It sounds like you know what you’re doing, that you’re doing the same thing, but sliiightly different. It doesn’t sound like you’re floundering, searching for the way out and into the new. It just sounds like you have extra responsiblities, exciting opportunities.

A recent job of mine had me making my own position. Something that had my eyes sparkling. I could find a perfect niche for myself and do a little bit of everything until it was perfectly, exactly what I wanted.

Of course, that’s not really how it works. It never was perfectly, exactly what I wanted. Nothing is ever perfect. But, it was close. It was what I needed in that moment, and it shifted over the years. Unfortunately, it ended up shifting into something I no longer wanted. So, I pivoted.

I stressed out at first, feeling ashamed that I would be leaving yet another job, one that was made exclusively for me, at that. But, I shouldn’t have been.

I learned new skills. I broadened my horizons and I added something a little extra to my Resume. It’s okay to grow out of things. Even if those things fall under your career.

I’m slowly doing everything I had wanted to do as a child: everything. I may not end up as a model (but I’ve had headshots taken! Ah, the weirdness of real estate). And, I may not ever be a singer or an actor, but I’ve done a lot of things that made me happy in that moment of time. I originally wanted to look and be like Barbie. Somehow, the money for that boob job never materialized, and I changed courses. People change. Our needs change. Why can’t our career aspirations and jobs?