A reflection on a point in time 2 years ago ~ by Loralee Hutton
I had a dream. I had a new idea. And my current business couldn’t stand on its own two legs without me there, so I could fly my big new dream. And I hate it for this. I resented it, where once love had been. It was a chain around my neck, where once freedom lived.
It choked the life out of me, the dream out of me, and left me there like a willful child, spent after a terrible tantrum.
I began to hate it.
And it hated me back.
The dream shoved in a closet now, tattered. New ones emerged, started, tossed. The old confidence lost. The dreaming spirit dashed. Had the entrepreneur left? Had the soul of the company wilted like the fresh flowers that once stood in the office entrance every week?
The files and folders once lovingly organized, sorted, filed and groomed, now strewn on every desktop. Mail unopened, emails printed and scattered. Remnants of dreams and ideas like accidental shoe-prints left on wet cement.
Where had the dreamer gone? Was it she who was chained to the everyday task of running a responsible business now? The very one that was meant to set her free? The one she lovingly tended so she would have freedom to create anew as this one matured?
Where had the planning gone wrong? Was it too soon? Was she too stupid, smart, not sexy or funny enough? Not wise enough or educated?
Maybe there wasn’t enough money. Maybe the boom and bust was to much. Or maybe she didn’t really care enough in the first place. Maybe her passion lay elsewhere. Her purpose. But that sounds like bullsh*t to me.
Maybe it was bad investments, coaching, the wrong seminars, following the wrong “guru”. More bullsh*t.
The real truth is in the smallness. The faster she grew the more scared she felt of being exposed, seen by the masses, the magazine articles, the media, top google rankings, the stalkers, the haters, all these things she set in place to help grow the company now terrified her.
The dream and the reality are the same, yet feared somehow. She’s no better than another, and yet as good as another. The level of “guru” status uncomfortable to the skin, the touch, the body – all senses.
And so she shrinks.
Smaller and smaller until no one remembers her name.
And does she feel comfortable now? Somedays yes, and terribly sad. She misses the ones who were along side her.
The ones who kept growing and expanding, filling their lives with purpose and life. The retreat is what it is. Maybe even healthy. But it leaves self-doubt in her mind that she’s not good enough to try again. That she’ll slip and fall, the rug will slip out from under her while walking down the red carpet in those decadent new shoes everyone is drooling over. And that when she looks up from the carpet, she’ll see them laughing at her.
What a fool, they’ll say. “Why did she try again? Why doesn’t she just get a job!”
My business stole from me. It stole my ability to remember who I am. To see I’m just like you. To reach out and ask for help when I’ve fallen. To only look to my true friends, not the ones who laugh when I’ve fallen. To remember to breathe… always. And remind myself I’m not broken. I’m a piece of work in progress like everyone else. I just chose to do it a little more publicly than the rest.
Will I always remember from this point forward? Probably not. Will you remind me? Unlikely, as you’ll be living your own life, in your own drama or dream. And I’ll find my way back again. Maybe faster, maybe not. And when I do I’ll be different again. Parts of me, but slightly altered. Not better, simply changed. Like the rose planted near the house. The roots are the same, but each season it grows a new direction new buds, new flowers. That’s me… broken, trimmed, cut down for the winter, trying to grow again in a somewhat cold spring. ~~~~~Does my reflection bring up anything in you? Is there a story you want to share too? You can write here, or send me a private email. I’m here to listen.