Frustration, Fear and Unadulterated Heartbreak

I’ve been getting lost recently in the frustrating disappointment of looking for commercial space. It’s funny: the very first spot I looked at I fell in love with – even though it was a decrepit piece of shit. It was the perfect size, perfect location and perfect layout. I spent some time day-dreaming about the floor plan, my kitchen at the back, open concept, a wall of booze, small event space up front with some wicked art and built in-shelving. I started to create my business plan around that space because I don’t need a loan until I get the space and I can’t really use the space until I get the loan, so great. After spending $759 on a lawyer to look at the offer to lease, I took a plunge.

And was greeted with a severely lackluster outcome.

Long story short, the lease has been suspended because of issues with the building not being up to code or some such. So since that day, I’ve sent my agent about 10 listings, looked at 4 spaces, been interested in 2, had to close the door on 1, no news on the other and I’m just at my wit’s end. So there’s the frustration piece.

Here’s the fear: There has been a lot of strain and stress to deal with recently because there is just not enough room in the kitchen/s I’m working in, plus I’m travelling to two different places to do similar tasks, my shit is everywhere – charcuterie boards and meal prep containers in the living room, dried fruit and chocolate-covered pretzels on the kitchen table, small appliances everywhere. I’m annoyed. And I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to handle the go-between or the constant disorder, which brings me back to the frustration of the commercial space.

Whether you’re an entrepreneur (I still hate that word by the way, it sounds so bougie, don’t you think? Same with “charcuterie,” and I use them both far too often for my liking), or you’re a student, or a stay-at-home mom, a VP, a CEO, a nomad or whatever it is you do, or don’t do… the fear of failure is 100% real. Not necessarily failing at my business, just failing in general. It’s all about those checks and balances – if one area of my life is going well, inevitably something else is likely lacking. I fear that failure. Letting people down, letting myself down, having such high expectations just to be deflated (which incidentally is happening with my real estate situation).

I’m learning to shrug it off, which saddens me – don’t get my hopes up, so I don’t get let down, you know? That’s not me. I don’t want to shrug my way through life. I want to be stoked! I want to do the things I love to do, and even the things I don’t like so much cough social media cough. So there’s the fear.

Lastly, here comes the heartbreak. A Saturday morning rolls around, I get up at 5 AM to start making some giant fruit and veg boards, and 100 tacos for a party I’m catering… And about 3 hours into it, my daughter comes down and asks “Mom, is this what you’re going to be doing forever?” and so I said “Yes, this is mummy’s new job, why?” and she looks at me with just pure kid-sadness in her eyes and says, “Oh… I just miss playing with you on weekends.” Listen, I don’t mean to sound dramatic, but I didn’t have a response for her. I just hugged her tight and asked myself if this was really a good decision.

I know she doesn’t get it right now, but I hope one day she understands that working 9-5 (or 9- frigging midnight) was slowly killing me and even though I can’t play as much on weekends (RIGHT NOW), I’m a better mom for all of this. I hope she knows she can do and be anything and everything she puts her mind to, no matter how or when she starts.

Alright, enough of the heavy – time for some sunshine, rainbows and unicorns, kay?

This has all been going on for about a month. When I got the weird news about the first place, my sister-in-law says to me, “Okay, so that sucks. But think about where you were a year ago.” A year ago, I was a miserable, depressed, shriveled up asshole who couldn’t function Sunday nights for fear of Monday mornings. I was about a month away from a pretty good health scare, and a long road to recovery. Perspective. Good call, sis.

Almost simultaneously, my husband turned to me and said, “Okay, so that sucks. But think about where you’ll be 5 years from now.” Touché, salesman. 5 years from now, I plan to be as joyous as I was when I quit my job 6 months ago, plus a whole lot more.

I’m focusing on being the best version of myself, and I have to remember to take a step back and actually see that forest through the trees. I’ve never felt stronger mentally or physically, my business is doing well, I adore coaching, and now that it’s summer vacation, I am spending quality time with my kids, and prioritizing family and friends.

I know it’s all going to work out – everything always does. As Worrysaurus would say, “If it’s not a happy ending, then it hasn’t ended yet.”