two posts ... separated by one year ...

JANUARY 2013:

So what the heck happened to my BLOG? Oopsie. Guess I got distracted ...

It's been more than a year since I've posted here, and so much has changed. I leapt, I cashed in my retirement account, I rented an entirely different 900sf office in Camillus. I patched, painted, hung art and curtains, hauled in furniture, supplies, linens, and fairy lights. I loved it, it loved me, and I practiced there for a grateful year. I had so hoped to share space with other therapists and practitioners, to share rent in some easy and organic and balanced way, but it didn't quite work out like my fantasy suite. And I couldn't carry the rent by myself. So when my lease expired at the end of October, out I went. And here I am, back on Court Street, rolling with the proverbial (why do they feel so literal?) punches.

Taking the office was perhaps the worst decision I've made as a massage therapist, but I am so glad I did it. I had no debt other than school-debt when I signed the lease, and of course have since maxed out two credit cards AND borrowed money from a friend AND from my house fund AND from my family. I don't know how to get out of this money hole I've created. But that office ... it gave me hope. And space. And it made me take myself seriously as a practitioner and a therapist. It was, truly, healing space.

At the same time that I was losing my work-place, my dearest babiest loveyface greyhound got sick. Very sick, with no obvious cause. He started losing weight, regurgitating food, shivering and losing muscle mass. My poorest baby. He was so, so sick. And x-rays, an ultrasound, more x-rays, bloodwork, urinalyses ... nothing could make clear what was wrong. We visited the vet four times in four weeks, and he lost 25 pounds in his illness. They are guessing lymphoma. I had him euthanized on October 25th, outside the vet's office at this lovely pond, with the leaves falling and sun shining and my Brammy in my lap with his Dan and Grammy nearby. It was not a difficult decision, in the end. He was so ill, and there was no recovery. But my heart! No matter what we were going through, no matter how hard things seemed in my life, I always knew I would take care of us, me and Bram. I borrowed strength from him, from his trust and calm. And he took care of me. Losing his physical presence has shaken me - and my practice - so deeply. I miss him every day.

And now -- and now, I am home. Working, in this spookily quiet house, wondering where my dog is. Wondering where this practice will take me next. I truly can't support myself with my JHA income, even after all this time, and I've been searching and applying for part time work with no luck. I'm just now resigning myself to the idea of taking on something full time, trying to think of places or careers that might suit me. Something well-compensated and a little more regular, independent and true ... but nothing comes. And when I start seriously contemplating other work, when I start filling out applications or making calls, my clients book appointments. I keep being brought back to this.

So what, then? I'm not a saleswoman. I'm not one for corporate-speak and 9-to-5. It amazes me now that I did that kind of traditional work for so long. But I need something to shift; I need something to come into the frame. I have no idea what to do. But the bills keep rolling in, and I have no way to pay them. Literally a negative bank balance. I am in DEEP financial trouble.

The following is a post I first drafted a full year ago ... I never published it, and I'm not sure why. I guess I've always been unsure how much to share about my struggles or the non-perky side of starting and managing this practice. It's been a hard, hard road. And I'd like to think it's worth it, that my literal and emotional work and my trust in the Universe will have been rewarded. I've risked EVERYTHING for this new worklife, but it lately feels like the end, and I'm losing faith. I continue to hope for another way forward, and if you know of anything that might help, or stop the gaps, please share. I guess this blog has just gained a new dimension. I'll share it all, if you're interested....

If you're reading this, you are probably one of the clients, friends, or family in my life who have been supportive and awesome, so thank you. No matter what happens with the practice, I want to thank you. I've loved this work. And I feel like it has loved me back... xo

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JANUARY 2012:

These past two years have been such a crazy trip. When I quit my full-time job as a Technical Project Coordinator for the Oldest Architectural Firm in New York State, I had a feeling nothing would ever be the same. Little did I know.

It's been an adventure for sure, a classroom that has taught me so much about myself, my relationships, my work style and dreams and desires. It's helped me grow and change as a person and to be more authentic and at home in my life. The old job was SUCH a poor fit, and I stayed for YEARS. I didn't think I had a choice. That, of course, was an illusion.

I borrowed money from my family and embarked on the most insane 24 consecutive weeks I can remember. I don't, in fact, remember much of it at all. Stress, no sleep, physical and emotional exhaustion, being pushed right to my brain's edge. If anyone suggests that massage school in NYS is an easy program, they've never been through it. Or they're an admissions counselor. :)

We started after New Year's 2010, graduated in June, studied through the summer, and took our Boards in August. By the end of September we were all licensed and traveling our separate ways. I worked in a spa part time for the first year, despite the knowing that I needed to keep really focused on JHA to make it a full practice. That job shifted a few times and then fizzled out with amazing good timing. I was finally putting all of my energy where it needed to be.

Working out of my house had its advantages, but ultimately took a crazy amount of juggling: personally, professionally, and logistically. Potential new clients had no idea I was there! and the idea of having complete strangers in my home looked less and less attractive as time went by. I longed for an office to call my own.

I wished on stars and whatever else was at hand for a fabulous home for JHA, a place to grow, a space dedicated to healing work and fine arts, where there could be a healthy and clear boundary between my personal life and space and my business practice. Where the rooms are always ready and the linens are always clean. (haha) Where like-minded therapists and other artists could exist independently and collaboratively and be paid well and directly for their work. (P.S. Do you know how much massage therapists make working for a spa or salon? Yeah. A FRACTION of what you're paying. Always see your therapist directly if you can. They might be prohibited from telling you about their own practice, but they almost certainly have one. Google them!)

The office search was exhausting and overwhelming. I looked on my own, scoured the ads on Craigslist, worked with two realtors, and nothing came together. Until, as Dan Savage often says (in his own context), it did. I signed a lease for half of the second floor of the Danforth Building in the Village of Camillus in November. It's exactly right. I'd made a list of the features of my dream space, and it oddly enough had EVERY SINGLE ONE. (Lists to the Universe are obviously v. important.) It needed no construction, no renovation; it is divided up perfectly into three generously-sized rooms. There is a magical hallway, too, which really clinched the deal.

Do you know how Genesee Street curves down when you are heading into the village? Do you know that hill? There. At the bottom. Where West Genesee intersects with Milton Ave. You can't miss it, even if you've missed it the first 1,000 times you went through that intersection (like I did). Take the middle door, head upstairs, and turn to your left. MAGICAL (ART GALLERY) HALLWAY.

Of course, I had very little idea how I was going to pay for the privilege of working here. My hope, of course, was that the good people of Fairmount and Camillus (and Marcellus, and Warners and Baldwinsville and Elbridge and Jordan) would come flocking to the office as new clients. Or that someone would feel inspired to gift us a fat check to get started. There is always the held-breath scratch-off ticket (and the Sweet Million, to which I'm partial). I have a few therapists interested in sharing the second treatment room at least part time, but no real commitments yet. I am ultimately hoping to rent the room out seven days a week. If you or anyone you know is a wellness practitioner or artist, or just needs a quiet, private space to work, please consider the Danforth Building! You can make jewelry there. Or art. Or write your novel. There is natural light in every room. It is SO EXCITING TO ME.

The space is painted now, and furnished. It feels really good here, and I spend time hanging out even when I'm not working. There are tiny white lights and white paper lanterns and colorful walls and comfy places to sit and lay. You can get a massage here! That would make you super cozy.

I'm three months in to my 12-month lease, and all joking aside, I'm rather panicking about how to keep this space up and running. The summer months were crazy quiet, and then things picked up a bit toward the fall. The month of October was spent on a ladder with a paintbrush in my hand, and I made $140 FOR THE MONTH. November and December were both much busier, and now things have gone quiet again.

During these lulls, I spend each week trying to estimate how long I have before I must take another job. I am trying so hard to protect myself, to protect my dream, to follow my intuition and the voice that still says, so clearly, that I can do this. That I don't have to surrender to the pressure to work as an employee again. I have been so happy - soooo happppeeee - to be outside of that structure. It took me 18 years of work-life to realize it's not the appropriate setting for me. And I have finally embodied what feels right and healthy!

I love my clients, pretty much unequivocally. You are all amazing and fun and supportive and wonderful to work with. I see you working hard at taking care of your selves and being conscious of your bodies, your posture, your movement, your pain. I am so grateful to be part of your self-care and to help you restore some balance, create some peace, and experience some relief. So awesome.

So I'm living in a state of constant financial anxiety but existential and emotional happiness. If I pull this off, I'm writing a book. No one should be living a life they hate or tolerating a job because they feel they have no choices. I feel so committed to this path! I can't imagine looking back at this time as my little experiment with working for myself, or my misspent days as a massage therapist. I can't imagine going back to 40-hour work weeks at a desk. I can't imagine failing at this! Yet I feel like I'm failing.

Every meditation, every conversation, every piece of guidance coming from within me tells me to hang in there. And I am committed to doing it. BUT I have no idea how to pay my bills. UNLESS I open another credit card, find someone to share rent with, or get a job that takes me away from JHA.

So I put it to you. If you have always been meaning to come in for a session, please do. If you have piles of cash and are feeling bored with it, I'd be deeply grateful for a benefactor. Or a lender, if you don't mind long-term plans. If you can't help financially or in trade, please send good thoughts. I am trying very hard to be open and grateful and to trust abundance and the Universe and my self.

The 600-Minute Club ... BUT WAIT! There's MORE.

A short time ago I decided to offer an incentive to show some love to my regular clients and to let them know how much I appreciate their steady support and enjoy the work we do together. It goes like this: For every 10 hours of table massage you receive at Juniper Healing Arts, you get a half hour to use as you wish. Just like that! 30 minutes of free massage time to use or share or save for a rainy day. Exciting, right?

Where is my frequent flier card?, these selfsame clients wondered. Where, indeed? So I made one up, which is sort of how these things go when you work alone. It has forty little boxes representing 1/4-hour increments, and when all 40 have an X running through them, huzzah! You win. A half hour of FREE MASSAGE!!!

People started getting rather competitive with their cards, and made it a sort of mission to fill them up posthaste. (Do you know how much I love that?) It was a close race for the first full card, but then this week...the first to cross the 10-hour mark! The client was super excited, I was super excited, I think a little happy dance was involved...it was fun. I hope it's like that every time a client fills a card.

Side Note: Do you know how much fun it is to have your own business? It is many other things, but it's also often fun. I get to make things up, because I'm in charge! It's all so arbitrary and exciting. (When I'm in charge, things seem to get less expensive. Hmm. Maybe I should look into that.)

ANYway. Tonight, while folding clothes (which is how, I'm sure, many important business decisions get made), I decided to take it all one step further: Once you have filled up a 600 minute card with massage hours and received your free 30 (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE), 90-minute sessions will be $75 for you FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. Or the rest of my career, whichever.

Because I want to encourage people to have as much massage as possible in their lives, and I want everyone to feel free and casual about booking 90s. Exclusively. All 90s, all the time. They are my favorite, and why not skew my business to my favorite thing?

Why not indeed.

If you need some help getting a card started or maxed out, you know where to find me! I'd be happy to oblige. :)

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

bloggity blog blog

A blog, really?  I want to say it like Charlie Runkle, with one hand over his mouth: blaaawwg.  But I’m kind of in process with this whole creating-a-business thing, and there are ideas I’m feeling compelled to share.  Questions I’d like to ask.  Parts of the process that would better evolve outside of my head and in conversation with clients, friends, and other bodyworkers and like-minded individuals...

My intention is to be a self-employed healer.  Full time.  My dream is to have flexible and creative hours and to grow and learn and create (co-create?) a form of therapy that is truly my own, using Swedish massage as a strong and structured foundation.  I am drawn to many disciplines and it feels like a natural progression to incorporate things like psychology and energy work and psychic sense, meditation, movement, and music into my practice...  Healing Arts.  Yes.

I think of JHA in the future, and I wonder.

Where will I be, physically, psychologically, emotionally, financially? What will my practice look like? Sound like?  Feel like?  How will I explore and expand my work to involve more than muscular manipulation and orthopedic aid?  So curious. The challenge at this early stage has been surrender, trusting that somehow the clarity, the clients, the abundance will come. That, despite fears and old patterns, that feeling of groundlessness, I am right where I should be. Right where I am needed.  Right where I am.

All is well.  Right?  Eek.

J

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I beg you...to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language.  Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them.  And the point is, to live everything.  Live the questions now.  Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer...  -- Rainer Maria Rilke
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All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.  -- Julian of Norwich