Leaping. Again.

So I think I'm about to do something brave or crazy. Possibly both.

Let me preface all this by saying I am truly amazed by (and curious about) the ways in which money, and fears and projections about money, cripple me life-wise. Feelings of fear, scarcity, and lack, especially around love and money, are part of our cultural inheritance. Even though I understand that it is "just" a form of energy and not inherently valuable, I tend to get caught up in money's drama and allow myself to be manipulated by its perceived power.

Looking back, I'm shocked that I ever summoned up the wherewithal to leave the so-called security and familiarity of regular office work. I had a house, a car, a dog, expenses that required more than an entry-level salary, and starting over in a new career seemed impossible. Trappedy trapped. So I stayed. For so long. Until I didn't.

Here's something I know: quitting my professional administrative job, with its regular paycheck, predictable hours, annual profit share, and health benefits, is the best thing I ever did for my self.

  

I should probably write that on a slip of paper and keep it under my pillow for the days I'm plagued by darkest doubts. 

I thank whatever part of my existentially-pained spirit saw the tiny bright window of massage therapy and sneaked through. I also thank my parents for the loan that made school manageable, my boyfriend, whose faith and loving support has never wavered, my excellent greyhound, who is the most patient study partner ever, my therapist, who ROCKS, and my friends past and present, who continue to keep me grounded and moving forward.

OSTM was incredibly demanding; it prepared us for many things, but failed to clue us in about the waiting. Good grief, the waiting! After 24 weeks of school, 9 weeks of studying, and 5 weeks of anticipation, we were finally, blissfully, licensed. (All of us. Yay.) Then: waiting for the first client. The second. Oh my God.

Some weeks are effortlessly busy, and I reach my income goal happily and not a little incredulously. Other weeks are dead and dead quiet, and the money fears creep back in. Logic tells me that the curve is normal, that it will all "even out" over time, but of course fear doesn't care much about logic. Internalized voices demand that it's time to get a real job / I am not going to make a living out of this / the economy is bad / no one is getting massage / insurance won't pay for it / people are cutting back / there are no clients coming to keep me afloat and no one else to blame blah blah. Scarcity. Blam.

I was nearly flattened by those fears on Sunday. I was, in truth, a soggy weeping mess. (Just ask my BF or my dog.) It seemed so unfair: I have worked so hard, emotionally, mentally, and physically, to create this new life, and I could just fail at it! lose it all! if I don't make enough money to support myself, and soon. I felt so alone, and deeply and honestly wished for a mysterious benefactor, a winning scratch-off ticket, a big bag of money sitting on my sidewalk, a gift from the Universe. Some sort of sign that I was on the right path and would be supported, somehow.

When I began looking for a stand-alone office a few months back, when working out of my home began to show its limitations, I trusted the Universe to hook me up. I was ready. I really liked the location and the energy of the first office I visited, but it was not private enough for massage. The second office was love at first sight, but my building-love was not enough for the landlord, who had someone else in mind. The third space has real potential, could be pretty perfect with a coat of paint and a few strategic walls. There is a magical hallway! So it's mine, right? I'll take it. 

It costs $900 a month? Hm.

There's that.

Well, okay. I had a vision of multiple massage therapists in one space, sharing information and support, working independently and harmoniously. Parallel play. I'll extend an invitation to several awesome therapists I've met in my travels; we'll all pitch in! If I get a few people to pick up a day or two in the space, I can sign the lease! Except with one thing and another, obligations to family and other employers and existing leases and other sides of town, no one is quite ready to join in. Yet. So I don't take the office. Yet. I will be patient. I will wait.

Okay, Universe. I think I understand waiting now. Can we move on?

Two nights ago, driving home from Sweet Basil Thai House (OMG, go there. It's Audi from Little Thai, and Stan, who's super enthusiastic and has an adorable infant), it occurs to me. A little cartoon light bulb illuminates over my head and I know it's going to be okay. The retirement savings? The money Dad has been trying to get me to withdraw since last summer? The account I've been tactfully ignoring? It would buy me some office. It would buy me some time. Time to get set up in the new space. To build some walls. To put down a coat of paint and create a nap lounge and get signage out. To spread the word in Fairmount and Camillus. To show a real, physical, beautiful office to potential healing arts practitioners, as a real, physical, beautiful invitation to join in.

I am getting hold of my financial advisor. I will be charged a penalty for touching this money at such a tender age (haha). I will have to report it as taxable income. I will possibly regret it when I am elderly and poor. But really. I have lost half of it already in stock market fluctuations, and it's not that much to start with. Will see me through for about 6 months of my 2 year contract. But it's a start. If I fail, if this whole thing is a bust, I will at least have given it everything I've got. Pretty much literally.

Here is something I've learned (and am still learning) to trust: When you are faced with a decision, and one path feels heavy and dark and familiar and safe, and the other path feels exciting and scary and impossible and makes you glow, take the glowy path. That's the one you want.

So I plan to glow. And leap. And act out other empowering verbs. Use my admittedly meager retirement funds to rent an imperfect office and create a place I love. A place my (hopefully many) clients will (hopefully immediately) feel at home. A place where new people can find me and where I feel more available, more open, more able to accommodate.

Will you come see me in Camillus? And do you have any scratch-off tickets on you?? How are you at wall construction?

xo

J