Use that Radio

I am not in this alone.  None of us are. 

In this new venture of self-employment, I sometimes feel like a sailboat out to sea.  I’m not a sailor, but I can imagine it would be pretty scary to ride the winds out into the middle of the ocean, until you can’t see any other ships, only to have the wind suddenly stop. Okay, the ride out there is great, but once you're there, what do you do?  Wait until the wind starts back up? What if it doesn't start blowing?  Do you get out oars and start paddling, even though you don't know exactly where the shore is?  What do you do?

Life feels lonely like that at times, mostly because I spent so long in a regular 9-5 world.  It’s fun, believe you me, to wake up each day and get to choose which projects to pursue, which avenue to search.  It’s like having that giant wind at my back, propelling me out into the ocean.  The possibilities are endless.  I am capable and confident that I will make this work, that new clients are coming, that I am going to make a new album, find a great place to live, and have all sorts of adventures along the way.

That wind keeps me moving, keeps me actively sailing. I stay preoccupied with the wind, managing the wind, enjoying the wind.  But then, periodically, the wind stops.  It’s a lot less fun out there on my own with no wind. When I get tired, or my mind starts playing discouraging loops, or I start believing old lies about how I never do anything well enough, I feel alone and momentumless.  It’s not that I lack hope; I just get tired. 

I have to rest sometimes; I know that. But I avoid rest because when I rest, fear bubbles to the surface.  I'm not alone in wanting to avoid this. Fear can paralyze, but it can also motivate. Today, I choose to use the energy of fear to fuel me moving forward. Fear can stop my motivational wind from blowing, leaving me feeling stranded. But if I can move past the fear, I think more clearly. I think of alternative solutions, or I might look and discover a backup motor on my boat to keep me going.

But what about when moving past the fear doesn’t work?  What about those times when I keep trying to work and only feel like I’m going in circles?  Although I don't always use it, I think I've figured out the secret: I reach out.

In my little, stalled boat, I use the radio.  Yes, the radio.  I ask other people what to do.  I ask for help.  That is the secret of success. Sailing solo is great, but I will never get anywhere without help. I have to ask other people how they run their businesses.  I need financial advice.  I need leads on new clients.

I saw a financial counselor last week, and our simple hour-long discussion gave me tools I certainly didn’t have before.  Some elements left me feeling a bit overwhelmed by all I have to do, but mostly, I felt empowered because at least I now know a few steps to takes.  I don’t have to do them tomorrow, but I can start thinking about it and planning for those steps so that I am ready to do them when they get here.

So many of us who strike out on our own have long histories of getting things done ourselves.  We have false notions that we should be able to do everything on our own, that it is a sign of weakness to ask for help. But frankly, how are we supposed to start up a wind on our own?  It’s impossible.  We need help to get to where we want to be. 

That’s what I’m doing, asking for help.  It’s essential.  You can do it, too.  No matter where you are in life, it’s always good to know how other people have tacked situations so that we can tackle them with as much information as possible.

After asking for help, my next step is trusting myself to act on that information in my own time.  I don’t have to implement everything today or follow the suggestions at all.  I can wait until the time is right and my heart knows exactly what is best for me.

Reach out today!  You won't regret it.

Projectile Sharing

Sometimes, when I don’t share something that’s been burning on my heart—when I suppress it and refuse to speak it to another person for a long period of time—that something eventually comes out on its own. It will be shared… and often with the wrong people.

A friend and I were discussing this a few weeks ago, and she suggested I blog about it. The night before our discussion, she had laid out her heart for a group of people (not just an individual person) she didn’t know very well.  Yes, a little alcohol was involved, but not much. Sometimes, it doesn’t take much. When we need to share, we share.

When we go through hard times, we are hard wired to connect with others and pour some of those feelings and experiences out. We can’t hold them all alone. Unfortunately, it seems that many of us are hardwired to suppress the impulse to share. Why?  Perhaps saving face or feeling competent and in control are more valuable to us than feeling better. We do many things that prevent us from healing because our self esteem matters more.

It’s our self esteem we’re talking about here—not a small thing. We want to protect our self esteem, and it drives us to hide things that have caused us shame. This sometimes means that we go for long periods without talking about the heaviest things on our minds. And when those thoughts and feelings get too heavy, they come bursting out, all over people who may not be safe to share with.

Of course, some people don’t have this issue. They understand relationships intuitively. Bravo for them—for you if you fall into that category! Maybe I’ll get there one day. For now, however, I have to work to reach out and open myself up to perceived disgrace or rejection. I forget that people will more than likely embrace me when I share something difficult. I forget that I often leave the situation with more self esteem, because the other person validates my feelings or accepts me, regardless of what I’ve done or experienced.

It’s best to share when you know you need to. Listen to your heart, and when it aches, don’t wait. Call someone. Even when you’re not sure if you’re ready to share, you can get on the phone and tell someone that you have something you want to talk about. You can leave it at that, or maybe you will realize that you are ready to open up. The important thing is to let someone know that a secret burns within you, that you a have a burden that needs lifting, or that you have something wonderful to say. Speaking this truth starts a positive, active flow. If you don’t share, you’re damming the flow and possibly causing feelings of stagnation or depression.

I understand the fear of becoming a person that shares profusely, all the time, with inappropriate people. I am not advocating projectile sharing. Listen to your heart, and it will tell you when you need to open up and will often guide you to safe people with which to share. I’m trying to save you from the uncontrollable sharing that happens when thoughts and feelings lie dormant for too long. Stay in touch with yourself.

Those are my two cents. Don’t let the need to share build up to the point where it could spew out on anyone. If you are so concerned about what other people will think, wouldn’t it be best to share it with the people who are least likely to look down on you for it? Now is the time.

Silence

I love silence.  I like my house to be totally quiet because noise and activity easily overwhelm me.  I’m in love with silence.  It holds within it something beautifully eerie, sacred, and open.  In silence, I can hear thoughts and let them go.  I feel connected to what I’m doing and connected to where I am.

To some people, this seems strange—for a musician to prefer the quiet.  I’m constantly humming tunes, making up songs, and generally thinking of music.  But with all that music in my head, why do I need it everywhere around me?

Now, I love a good concert.  I love entering into a zone that envelopes me in sound and lights and people and total and utter stimulation.  Euphoria.

I specifically go to concerts for that experience. In day-to-day life, I prefer silence.

Enjoying silence most of the time allows for a dramatic shift when I do turn music on.  The contrast between silence and music brings the house to life in a new way.  I start smiling.  I start moving.  I start feeling better. My mood shifts just a little.  Silence in the house is one kind of treat; sound is another.

I regularly go into the living room, sit at the piano or on the couch with the guitar, and play. I’ll sing most of the time, too, letting the vibrations engulf me. I might write songs, learn new ones, or ramble on in an improvisational stream of consciousness, searching for total immersion in the music or new songs I haven’t found yet.  Whatever the mode, I love floods of sound.  The more sound, the better.  I wish I were an entire orchestra sometimes.  And maybe, somehow, that’s what I truly am.

I am a symphony of sound.  Inside me lies every note that has ever been played in this world.  I feel it, and I think that other musicians feel it, too—like we’ve heard it all before, been it all before, and are trying to find it again. Perhaps that’s why I’m so easily overwhelmed by other stimuli. I’m already so full of the magic of music.

Music is my gift. Where it comes from, I don't know. I write this to answer those that would question my love of quiet and to encourage them to find the beauty in it, too.  Music fills me so completely that I have to blot out the outside noise now and then (or most of the time) to hear the sounds that want to manifest through me.

In the end, silence is the way I hear music, and music is the reason I love silence.

Sidetracked by Fear

I’ll admit it.  I got a little distracted this week, but I’ve nailed down the culprit: fear. In my first week of self-employment, I decided to pursue a job as an assistant. It was advertised as only around 10-15 hours per week, and even though the pay was minimal, it sounded good to have some sort of steady income on the side.

I interviewed for the position and was accepted, but after three days on the job—yes, three days—I realized that assisting is not my strong suit.

Besides the basic disconnect between my personality and everything an assistant should be, the entire time, I was thinking, “I need to be working on my own business.  I need to be growing my own client base.”  Even though my new boss had a lovely personality, explained things as best she could, and didn’t ask for too much, I couldn’t do it. I needed more time to get into the rhythm of my new life.

The honest truth is that I don’t know how much extra time I have. I’m working all the time, so it would appear that I have no extra hours to spend running errands at near-minimum wage. I could be spending a few hours finding clients who will pay my full fees instead of bringing only a handful of dollars home at a time, or I could be devoting energy to my true love: music.

But my client list is short and the gigs do not pay that much. It’s frightening. I have dozens of contacts, contracts with a number of different organizations, and no offers. I’m finding small projects, but I have to cross my fingers that I will continue to find more.  I’m getting more and more music gigs, which is fabulous, but I would prefer more paying ones. It’s rough. No wonder I reach out for the familiarity of a “regular” job.

Anyway, my side job cut into valuable morning creative hours and gave me such stress attacks that I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. I wanted to be there for my boss.  I really did.  But my heart was not there, and I felt overwhelmed by every aspect of assistantship. Being at someone’s beck and call is not my forte. When set on default, I’m a “my way or the highway” thinker who believes that she knows best in just about every situation. (I’m not saying that I think I am correct in this mindset or that I act on this mode of thinking most of the time, but it is my instinct to insist that I’m right.) Bottom line: If my kneejerk reaction to authority is “no way,” what am I doing trying to take orders for a living!? 

I quit.  For the second time this month, I quit.  It didn’t feel good.  I hated leaving my new boss in the lurch. But it’s what needed to happen. I have to follow my heart, which knows that I will get more business over time. I ended the job the best way I could, finished out my duties for the week, and went home to look for work.

My days are already filled with engagements and networking events and jobs that I need to concentrate on. I want to grow my own vision, not someone else’s, wonderful though it may be.

At the end of the day, I got back to my dream, to my vision, and to the challenge before me. I have to lay a strong foundation for my music and writing/editing business before I desperately reach out for new, “regular” jobs. I must let myself be free for a while. I am doing everything I need to do. No need to get distracted.  Keep walking forward. It will all work out… I’m choosing to believe that.

No More Dying

I felt like I was dying. That’s the best way I can describe it. I would be sitting at my desk, staring at the computer, feeling the keyboard under my fingers, and I would think, “I’m going to die.” Not a suicidal thought, just a premonition.  If I continued to sit there, at that job, in that building, doing the same thing every day, I would die. This I knew.

So I quit.  After four months of torment, fear, sadness, bingeing, resignation, anger, meditation, crying, praying, thinking, journaling, and dreaming, I quit. When I made the decision to quit my well-paying, full-time, insurance-providing job, I felt free. I felt like I could live in the world again.

I told my boss about my decision four days after I made it in my heart. I had discussed the choice with people, who mostly reacted positively.  I was rather shocked at how responsible they seemed to think I was.  I doubted I would be able to get myself to focus each day, trying to find work as a musician and writer, but they seemed fairly certain that I would do it. It occurred to me that I might be far more mature and reliable than I estimated. Perhaps I am.  Perhaps I’m not.  That remains to be seen.

I have been self-employed for three days now.  I have a few solid clients with Rock Star Writing and Editing already. By a few, I mean 3-5, and only two of them are booked for more than a single project. In music news, I couldn’t get any other musicians to sign on for the second Mi’Show, which is happening on May 4. Nonetheless, I have a nice vision in my head of a solo concert, so I think it will work out.  I have a lot to say to my fans right now, and perhaps I need an entire two hours to say it to an audience.

I have little idea how I am going to make ends meet. At this point, I don’t even know if I’m approved for individual health insurance.  If I get it, how will I pay for it?  My decision to leave my job seems increasingly insane.

Still, I do know one thing. The thought of going back to my old job upsets my stomach, up into my throat. I don’t want to go back. It was certainly not a bad job.  It was the best job I’ve ever had.  I was paid handsomely for work that, honestly, wasn’t that difficult. I liked the people there.  The office location was beautiful.  People appreciated my writing and editing for the most part, and I got to contribute in many other ways to the company.

Nonetheless, I was going to die.

Today, I don’t feel like I’m going to die.  Today, I feel free.  I feel afraid.  But I also feel free.  Part of me is strapped down by thoughts clambering for me to find more work, more money, more gigs, more everything. But another part of me knows that I will always have everything I need.  I just don’t know what I need yet.

I watched the sunset today from my car.  I was coming back from a recovery meeting that focuses on steps 10, 11, and 12 from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous.  We call it After Nine. The concept resonates with me.  We focus on spirituality and on our connection with others.  It lines up brilliantly with something my last sponsor told me. She said that recovery is really about three things:

1. Connecting with God
2. Connecting with others
3. Connecting with ourselves

That’s what After Nine is about. I may not fully ascribe to everything the Anonymous programs typically stand for, but I do feel that this part of it works for me.

I feel that something in this universe knows more than me—can see farther than me—even if that something is nature, pure and simple. There is a future and a past where I do not exist. I exist right now, in the present. And right now, the present is a pretty uncertain place. Or maybe it’s the most certain place. 

In this moment, I know that I am sitting here, writing this post, choosing words.  I know those things.  I don’t know the future.  I don’t know how long I will be able to work for myself or even if I will be able to work for myself at all.  I’m not sure what I’m going to do with music or if I will really find the new outlets I need.  I’m scared that I will not find what I need to make this life work.

But maybe a higher power will give me what I need instead.

Maybe I don’t have to know.  I am trying.  The bottom line is that I am putting one step in front of the other.  Even in my darkest times over the last few months, I did not stop getting up in the morning.  It became very difficult to do so, and I would procrastinate on taking that first shaky step out of bed in the morning. But I kept living life.

I gave it my best.  Yes, my best sucked a lot of the time, but I gave it. I am giving it.  I have goals for how many hours I want to work each day.  I have specific milestones I want to reach. But I don’t know if I will manage to work that many hours or reach those milestones.  I don’t know if I will achieve my goals, and I also don’t know if my goals are really what my goals should be.  I’ll go after them, but I hope that the universe/circumstance/God/Goddess/whatever takes me to the best place for me.

I keep thinking that Houston, Texas, does not reflect my values and isn’t nurturing me the way it once did.  Perhaps it’s time to move on.  However, Houston Community College has a great music production program that I want to complete, and I treasure my friends and other connections here. How will I know whether to stay or go?  Time will show me.

I canoed almost 15 miles down Buffalo Bayou last Saturday with some friends. I felt my smallness.  The boat wasn’t very big at all, but it was certainly bigger than I am.  The canoe seemed so insignificant compared to the trees and the steep, sloping sides of the bayou.  The sky was so much taller, and the city streets so much more massive than anything I have ever been or created.

I quit my job. I play music. I write.  I edit.  I look for work.  I look for ways to feel in touch with the world. That’s what I’ve done. That’s what I’m doing.  And a whole big world continually expands and engulfs all of it.

I’m glad I quit my job.  I’m glad that I can go anywhere in this big, wide world. I don’t know if it ever dawned on me so fully that I can truly go anywhere and do anything.  I’ve known that at an intellectual level, but I’ve never put it into practice.  Since I was a teenager, I’ve had a plan for everything.  I always follow the plan, and when the plan inevitably does not work out, I make another plan.  How about not making a plan?  I don’t mean discard my personal work schedule, goals, or other organizational tools.  But how about loosening my grip on those things?  How about life not being my plan, but instead, the way I do things?

Thinking about plans in that way helps me understand that I don’t know the outcome of what I’m doing.  I don’t know what will evolve out of my current efforts.  But my current efforts feel right.  I love writing.  I love inspiring others.  I love talking to other people about the things I’ve learned in life.  Perhaps these things will come together in a life I enjoy—in a life I want to live.

I’m going to die—eventually. But I’m going to live right now.  In my uncertain, unsteady, bewildered, inquisitive, sometimes frantic and afraid, sometimes peaceful and confident way, I’m going to live. I’m going to put one foot in front of the other and see where it takes me.  I’ve heard phrases like that for a long time.  Now, I’ve given myself a chance to really feel what the words mean. In a way, I want God to show me that she really is in control, that my life is okay.

I don’t want to binge and cry away my whole life. I want to write, travel, love, play music, give, and enjoy.  When I tell you that you can make any choice and do anything, I mean it.  Every decision ha consequences.  And guess what, I can deal with those consequences.  You can deal with those consequences.

I’m not going to tell everyone who hates their jobs to quit them. I am going to tell you to listen to your heart. Your heart knows when it’s dying and when it feels alive.  It knows how to live.  I don’t know how it knows, but it knows.  I feel it in my spirit.  I am shared out of my boots, shaking, weirded out, and totally puzzled by what I’ve done. But you know what? I’m allowed to make a giant mistake.  I’ve never let myself do anything that I thought would be a huge mistake, and even with that kind of forethought, I’ve still made too many mistakes to count.  I’ve always avoided any major choice that I thought could turn out very, very badly. 

Well, this time, I see the possibility of failure.  I recognize it.  And you know what?  It’s worth it.  Failing would be better than never trying at all.  At least I’ll be somewhere different when I hit bottom. And maybe that’s all my heart needs: something different.

Heart, I won’t let you die, especially not in front of a computer screen.