#manic brain

body: ugh, honey go to sleep

me: *jumps on bed*

I’ve been trying to puzzle out why my big Life Transition eight months ago still doesn’t feel real or comfortable. For the first time in my adult life, I’m making most of my living as an employee of someone else. This is what I was trained for both inside and outside of the dance studio: be a reliable worker, do what it takes to get the job and get it done well, be under someone else’s authority. I spent a lot of years working against my natural headstrong, stubborn tendencies to become a Nice Girl. For a time, I fell under the influence of the “Biblical Patriarchy” movement–and no one’s to blame for that but me. That way of thinking had me convinced that my career goals were damaging, that I’d be happier when I got married and let my husband call the shots.

First, I worked as a freelance writer (the boring kind) to help pay bills during college. Then, we moved to the middle of nowhere for my husband’s education. Being in an area with no friends, no job, no artistic outlet and rent to pay ignited an ambitious, idealistic fire in me that I hadn’t felt since childhood. I jumped in feet first with about $50 in my bank account and a one page business plan. Looking back it seems crazy, but at the time I had blinders on. It seemed like the only thing to do. The studio ran for four years. I guess it was successful overall. Last spring I sort-of-sold it for quite a bit more than $50.

I had more than my share of struggles financially and emotionally, like any business owner. I spent the first year pregnant and exhausted with no idea what I was doing. The second and third years were an uphill battle against post-partum depression that didn’t fade. The combined responsibilities of running the business and raising a baby seemed unmanageable thanks to that mental illness. I made some poor business/life decisions as a result. The fourth year I took steps to make things better. I made the focus of the business a little more specific, took time to take class and dance other places, saw a therapist. By that point, I needed to take another part time job to pay the bills. I felt trapped by the business and worried I was missing out on other possibilities.

So now I’m here. I’m still working in my field at a great flexible job and doing quite a bit of teaching and freelance work on the side. I don’t have to take many work worries home. I live in a city where I’m a ten minute walk from most things I need and a 5 minute drive from everything else. I’m even still teaching at my old studio. But my business-owner brain won’t calm down. I keep thinking of projects I could be doing, what I’d be working on if I were back there, missing the autonomy and the never-boring challenges. I keep thinking about how I’d do things differently with the knowledge of the industry I have now.

I really miss it.

I know nostalgia paints memories rosier. I still feel confident in my decision to walk away when I did. I needed the space and time and a little distance to figure things out. I’ve come to terms with my dance-career-that-wasn’t and actually feel grateful that I don’t have to spend my days auditioning and training. That life would have killed me. Keeping the studio going as it was and where it was would have eventually killed me too.

I think me from six years ago would have really loved the life I have right now but four years of owning a business changed me. I’m grateful for all I have now and even more thankful for those four years. They made me believe in myself as a leader. They made me look at every Main Street and community and town and see potential instead of lack. I’ll never get old let-someone-else-call the shots Sarah back and, you know, I’m 100% okay with that.