For years when the bigger boys were little I felt I was less in a holding pattern and more in a swirling vortex sucking me into oblivion.
I scratched at a career through various freelance gigs and slowly accepted that perhaps I was a good writer after all.
Then I went back into a salaried gig and loved being a part of something. Being recognised as good at my job and that sense of accomplishment and personal satisfaction that can come from being part of a dynamic little team who love and respected one another and was respected by others within the organisation.
THEN I experienced the flip side of working in an organisation where you are, ultimately, a worker bee. Expendable. Where the words of support and encouragement to you are not matched by actions and hard decisions that must be made are not. At your expense.
THEN I had babies and small children all over again and I don’t know if it was perspective, age or a combination of both but I found myself very happy with being at home. Wanting it in fact. Relishing my role as mama bear.
I still do.
Strange isn’t it. 10-12 years ago I felt I was going insane being at home, being left behind, forgotten. Overlooked.
Now – apart from the obvious loud and stinky brain farts that come from children wanting to do craft activities or go to
hell the park or the relentless sibling fighting which quite frankly would make the baby Jesus cry – I am proud of what I do. Of raising these young boys into confident fine young men. Of being here for them.
But there is a disquiet that has been simmering oh so gently in the deeper recesses of my being.
Sooz’s post has prompted me to put words to it.
I have a business of my own I am hatching. It is currently with a manufacturer and is still very much in the planning phase. There will be fine-tuning of its design, issues with its production, packaging, distribution, intellectual property and trademark registration, logo, website creation and marketing to come.
I have been mulling on this idea for the better part of five years. That it could even come this close to being a reality puts a fire in my belly that I haven’t had for quite some time.
I know it will work. I know it has scope to grow to something much bigger and that excites me even more.
I am not scared it won’t work. In fact that hasn’t even really entered my thought process. It is starting small with (hopefully) minimal financial outlay and if it just trickles along for a while so be it.
It will be mine.
Of course there are other factors I must account for – we are in the enviable position of being able to live in Sydney in a wonderful location due to my mum’s generosity.
It appears to me – from my very limited knowledge of world financial markets but rather obsessive news and international affairs interests – that we are on the verge, if not already there, of a period of major worldwide “badness”.
Yesterday, with the best intentions for me at heart, I was essentially told my business would not take off and I should really consider another path. A safer path. A reliable path.
And you know what?
For much of my life I have settled for second best, for what works best for others, for what is easiest or the least disruptive and look, don’t get me wrong, I’m not sitting here on a bed of resentment and bitterness about that. They were decisions I made. Sure, some were made without me realising that was what I was doing but equally many were quite conscious choices.
So now, I am making a very conscious decision to do something I really want to do. I need to give this a red hot go.
I need to live my goddamn life.