[Starting a new series on the blog called 'Real Talk.' One of my wishes with Home Ec is that the real ups and downs of a sole proprietor small businesses, learning things and the humor of life in conjunction with paying bills, staying creative and keeping my sanity stays at the forefront of the conversation. This is the first (of hopefully many more) diary-esque entries harkening back to my good old college blogger days. Hoping you find these insightful, encouraging and... well... real.]
Woke up this morning in a panic. Sometimes going to bed a little tipsy tends to put me in that place in the morning. But last night was well needed. Spending a little bit too much money on a mediocre old fashioned (followed by a pretty good pour of red wine) at a bougie Newport bar full of tables of single women dressed for instagram with loose waves heated into their hair. But my little table of misfit good friends was what I needed. Laughing too loud. Talking about boys and the lack thereof.
The feeling temperature as of this morning is mix of just... wow... so many things at once. My emotion scatter matching up perfectly with the scatter that is my business right now. One part: premature satisfaction of launching a small business that was nothing but a passing thought just 6 months ago. (I thought it! I said it! I did it!) One part: the reality of 'Oh shit. Now this thing's gotta work.' The pendulum swing of taking it one step at a time and doing things my way to the other end of swing-- girl's gotta make dem dolla dolla bills.
Here is what I really mean:
I have such a clear vision of what I want Home Ec to be. A space, a community, an encouragement, a small but successful business. I have zero expectation of that vision being realized right away. But it's there. In my mind as clear as day. A red door and colorful tile.
But here we are today. Enter: Reality. What happens when that vision is unwanted? When one man's Treasure is another man's I Have No Desire to Take a Sewing Class. You throw an idea at the wall to see if it sticks, it doesn't. Is that the end? Or do you grab your tool kit and hammer, nail, tape, glue and will power that ish to the wall until it's able to stay up on it's own? Probably a combo of both.
I'm afraid of being that waiter in LA approaching the twilight of their life and still telling people that their going to be a famous actor one day.
Is this making sense?
Back to the panic.
I'm panicking that about lack of demand. I'm panicking about lack of space. I'm panicking about lack of money. I'm panicking that my cute branding is the best part of it all. I'm panicking that a first impression, once made, cannot be undone or re-visited. I'm panicking about making enough money to be an adult human. I'm panicking about time running out before I'm able to let the dust settle.
Going to try to flip panic to choice.
I'm choosing to slow down. To move forward. To take one thing at a time and cross it off the list. I'm choosing to fake the confidence that is Vianne (Juliette Binoche) and march forward through business ownership in heels and dresses. If she can sell chocolate to a stifled French town during Lent, I can make Home Ec work. PS - the Chocolat soundtrack will heal you of any ailment, including, but not limited to, major self doubt. Folk Gypsy GOLD.
Thanks for reading this. You're helping.
I PROMISE I'M REALLY DOING FINE, MOM.