On Where To Start

The other night as I was driving in my car, I had a minor epiphany. It was about 8:15 in the evening, and I was heading home from a personal shopping trip (for those of you who know how I usually feel about shopping, you can then imagine how glad I was to be heading home). I need some Spring clothes and I have very limited time to spend looking for them. That night, I decided to take a deep breath and plunge in. I picked up a couple of tops, a couple of pairs of pants, and one pair of inexpensive shoes. (For the record, when I tried the pants on for my mom the following day, she told me, “Those are not cute. There is nothing cute about them. From the waistband to the hem. Not cute.” [sigh] And back they’ll go.)

So back to the minor epiphany. I was driving and enjoying the fact that it was still light out, enjoying the fact that I was alive and driving my car freely and going anywhere I wanted to in this town…my town. And that’s when it hit me. My town. Where I live. Where I do business. Where (most of) the people I love are. This is my life. I am an…adult(!)…and I live in this town and I’m more or less directly responsible for helping to make this town great. I contribute to the way people experience this town because I am a business owner. I interact with the public. I am no greater or lesser contributor than any other person in this town, but I am one contributor. I make my own contribution. And it’s the contribution only I can make. And you know what? In that moment, I experienced fully a small, quiet moment of complete fulfillment.

Why were these thoughts significant to me? Probably because a mere year and a half ago, I never dreamed I’d return here to live, ever. Much less open a business here, ever. These turns of events occurred to me as good ideas just weeks before I actually went and made them happen. Before my big life change, I had a cute apartment in one of those trendy “lifestyle communities” that tend to attract young professionals who aren’t quite ready to be home owners. I was a teacher with enough years under my belt to mean job security when the levies didn’t pass. I had interesting students and great teaching partners. I had friends and a dating life. I had a supportive family to talk to on the phone. I had a relationship with God. I had a treadmill in my living room, a coffee shop to frequent on Saturday mornings, and a front porch with a bistro table where I once served a boy I liked homemade Pad Thai by candlelight. I had a whole life!

But it wasn’t ultimately fulfilling. I didn’t know why. I talked about it at length with my girlfriends, over dinners and glasses of wine and Caramel Macchiatos. And I quickly discovered I wasn’t alone. Most of us felt at least mildly unfulfilled and creatively untapped, even those of us who worked in the more creative fields. Even those of us who were married with children. The sort of unfulfillment we were talking about had nothing to do with the relationships we had or didn't have. It was something having to do with just us, and with our unique gifts and talents.

I knew my unfulfillment wasn’t a permanent condition. After some months, I even sensed the time was nigh for a shift. There was hope for me. I felt as if I were in the birth canal, waiting to be reborn as something new. I just didn’t know what.

I bet that many of you out there have found yourselves in a similar position—unfulfilled by your workaday existence (even if that workaday existence is admirable, honorable, enviable, lucrative, and/or on many levels, rewarding!), primed for a change, desirous of a new life (or at least parts of a new life). But maybe you didn’t know what needed to change. Or if you did, you didn’t know how you needed it to change. Or maybe you have felt as if you need everything to change. I know that I have felt that way at times.

So fifteen months ago when I first decided that the change I needed in my life was to leave teaching and start a business, I experienced a tremendous sense of ownership over my own life. Not that I ever felt like a puppet before. Teaching, after all, is akin to running a small business in many ways. (In some teaching models, students are to be considered as the customers of schools.) In leading a classroom, you define a brand identity (How does this classroom run? What are the expectations? What are the rewards of a job well done?), set up procedures and policies, manage paperwork, lead meetings, devise creative solutions, constantly troubleshoot, etc., etc., etc. But given all the freedom and liberty I experienced as a creator and a “proprietor” in my own classroom, I still felt as if that wasn’t enough for me. It wasn’t enough for me to work within the system of a school. I wanted to create the system.

For any of you out there experiencing a similar malaise, I am speaking directly to you. Further, I am speaking to those of you who strongly suspect that the unfulfilled desire in your life is to start your own business. I am not by any means suggesting that most malaises can be solved by starting your own business—heavens, no! If anything, taking such a leap can open the door to malaises you might not want any part of—if you don’t have the spirit, the mindset, and the attitude of an entrepreneur. But if you know that you do or even that you want to…I’m talking to you.

Just the other morning I attended a business growth seminar that was, quite frankly, life changing. I have a totally different view of my business after listening to and engaging with the ideas that were offered to me there. Here’s one thing I know for sure: by my own assessment, I may not yet deserve to wear the term entrepreneur. With mine being such a new business, I think ‘self-employed’ is a more fitting term for me—and I wear that term proudly with a smile. But I know that I have the spirit of an entrepreneur, and that is a role I am claiming for myself and for my future.

So back to that epiphany, the nature of which was this: this life I’m leading, I created it through conscious, deliberate choices, the stimulus for which was unfulfillment and the impetus for which was a desire to live the life I will want to look back on when I’m ninety-five. So here’s the question: when you're ninety-five, what passion of yours could you die happy knowing you fulfilled? Dealing in antiques? Designing clothing? Providing childcare? Creating greeting cards? Instructing Pilates? Catering parties? Helping others achieve their fitness goals? Whatever that “undying passion” is for you—I urge you to allow any current unfulfillment you might feel over not pursuing it become a tidal wave of momentum to go for it! Start with unfulfillment—go ahead, it’s okay. But don’t stay there. Keep dreaming, wishing, hoping, and planning. Those are your keys to unlocking a more fulfilling future.