I like people telling me what to do. Ok, I’m not so into my mom telling me how I should do my hair, or offering me dating tips. Nor do I want people who know less than me in an area, schooling me: “You know when you’re teaching teenagers, it’s really important to maintain discipline.” Um… No shit Sherlock. (Especially if it’s in one of those super patronizing and condescending tones we all love). I’m talking about getting up and going somewhere, and having to fulfill certain expectations while there. A job for example. You wake up, you arrive at your destination, and you do what you do. Your vision of your day is clear because someone told you what to do.
I am in transition, and I am starting a business. A business that depends on me being self motivated. A business that requires me to be giving the orders…. to myself. Sounds like everyone’s dream, doesn’t it? To be your own boss. But I don’t have the backing of a company and it’s finances behind me. I can be my own boss, but not pay my own bills, so what now? There is no blueprint of how it should be done, and because of that I feel a bit lost. And when I’m not lost, I’m looking at a long queue. Did I say how much I hate waiting? Waiting for someone to answer my email. Waiting for someone to call me back. Waiting for people to notice I’m here. Waiting to just offer myself. Waiting.
So what’s the trick? I think the trick is that there is no trick. I need to live consciously and give all that I have to this exact moment. Even if a part of me wants to just forget, sleep in, go for walks, eat a big donut, and avoid the phone calls and emails I “should” be making. I’m amazing at doing busy work that feels satisfying but accomplishes very little towards my goals. Waiting for the motivation to do the important things may not kick in, so I have to kick myself into gear. It doesn’t feel wonderfully brave and beautiful, or even remotely artistic. It feels awkward, silly, and utterly messy. There is no simple trick. It is what it is. It’s a series of clumsy steps taken in each moment, and like any birthing process it’s gross, painful, extremely messy, yet, somehow, utterly satisfying.