After being unceremoniously fired from a manager’s position at the start of 2014, I made the choice to delve into business ownership on my own for the first time. I’d been prepping myself for months prior and looking back on it now, I realize—years. My obvious intentions leading up to this point was to be of benefit to the company I was managing.
Possessing the wisdom from previous occupations, I felt confident and secure in my introduction to self-employment. What I ultimately did was go into direct competition with this company of which I’d led to reaching record sales, a record sales month and the addition of a fleet truck—within the span of ten months. Customers enjoyed working with me and I was deeply committed to this business prior to having a fallout with it’s owner.
Not everyone can handle growth and change and I refused to simply scrape by from a business perspective. Armed with these insights, I ventured forth into the unknown perils and privileges of entrepreneurship.
For a couple years leading up to this window of time, my entire world began to change—both an inner and outer transformation. Until then, I was that astute, working professional—making my way up the ladder of industry through sheer dedication and will while earning a decent, yet modest living throughout. I’d always been fortunate enough to work closely with my employers and was groomed from a young age to become that proverbial entrepreneur, or business owner someday.
What issues arrived were not just of economic despair (my inability to remain a part of this prior trajectory), but rather my own longing for something that was missing from my life and had been for as long as I can recall. Until this point, I was that proverbial cog on a wheel—helping others enrich their lives while I toiled away feverishly to make ends meet. Needless to say, my loyalties to employers began to wane severely.
My ego was certain it knew what it wanted. I’d been preparing for years in advance (consciously and unconsciously) but once it became a reality I suddenly felt like I’d become a slave to something I had never truly wanted to begin with. My heart simply was not in it the way I thought it was and this was not the first time I felt this way.
Once I realize something has become futile, I begin acting like an anchor. I resist heavily and allow things to deteriorate rapidly. I refuse to forge ahead, knowing just what kind of misery lay before me and what would otherwise be, the remainder of my natural life. I’m a chameleon. My colors change constantly. I don’t have a steady demeanor and each day is like a magic eight ball experience.
Nonetheless, I struck out on a limb and delved directly into business ownership, just as I’d been taught to do over the past 15 or so years previous.
Things sailed at first and within a couple months, I’d drummed up about $25,000 in sales. I was on a role, but something dreadful remained in the pit of my stomach: fear. I resented the thought of ending up in the same situations as my previous employers. They’ve made their careers work for them and they all seemed to love what they do—thriving at what they enjoy.
For me however, I simply could not accept living this way (industrial design and fabrication was the route I had originally committed to). It just wasn’t my modus operandi.
The one thing that I had so easily overlooked was the fact that I’d been writing each morning before work, after work and throughout many of my evenings from day to day—rarely taking time off (welcome to the life of an entrepreneur). I wrote all the time and couldn’t fathom that it could potentially become a career in it’s own right. I promptly allowed this business to fail and yet, still hadn’t conceived writing as an outlet for earning an income.
What I did next, was help co-found a nonprofit (just one last detour) which I’m happy to say is still alive and well, despite resigning from my position at the beginning of 2015. After that, I was burnt out on doing anything that did not benefit my personal satisfaction—doing what I love each day I wake, whether it’s daunting or exquisitely pleasurable.
I started writing and reading constantly (ele articles for about three years now). I wrote and wrote and wrote and with some encouragement from others, began believing more and more in my craft. It was so obvious, I’d overlooked it my entire life—the one thing I was born to do and always excelled at. So here I am today, nearly broke and struggling to earn a living from my writing pursuits, but you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way. In just the short time that I’ve finally devoted myself to this art, my career trajectory has taken off like a fire storm.
I’m happy to say, it’s paying off—financially and spiritually. I’m happy and for the first time in my life, feel encouraged to trust in this path, knowing that love is what’s guiding me this transition.