New Year’s
Eve means the year is almost over, and to be blunt, I’ll be glad when it is.
I feel
however hard I have tried these last twelve months, things have just kept continuously and
relentlessly going wrong.
Sometimes
it just isn’t your year.
I am
generally a lucky person, and friends often describe me as one of the most
positive people they know – but even I get downtrodden sometimes.
And to be
fair, some good things have happened this year: a trip to Florence and Pisa, a
mentorship in the Cayman Islands, running a 10k race whilst raising £250 for charity, and best of all, acquiring, refurbishing and renting out
three more houses to local families.
But far
more bad things have happened, too many to list and pointless to dwell on - but
this continuous chain of unpleasant events have caused a massive confidence
crisis in my own mindset.
In short,
I am not where I want to be.
I am
disappointed in myself.
I have
let myself down.
I very
rarely fail at anything; the last major event being abysmally failing my basic Cycling
Proficiency Test aged 10 (which gives you some indication of my gormless
co-ordination skills!)
I feel like a failure, and it is an unpleasant feeling
which I am not used to.
I have
struggled for weeks to regain my natural motivation and mojo. My get-up-and-go
has got up and went. And one doubt continuously creeps into my mind: what if I’m
just not good enough for this?
Despite
proving that I am, that I can do it - because I already have - that one niggling
thought continues to cling, evade and disrupt, and it is a real struggle to shake
off.
So let’s
imagine the worst case scenario: I am a failure at this, and I must go back and
get a ‘real job’. Getting up early and dragging my sorry ass out of bed in the
dark. Doing the long, tedious driving commute, where the most exciting thing
that prevents boredom is when an 80s classic comes on the radio. Arriving at
the workplace, aka the ‘dark satanic mills’, trudging into my room. Desperately
wishing it was hometime already, willing the time and drudgery to go quicker.
Putting up with other people’s nonsense and stupid behaviour, smiling and being
polite, because that’s what my contract insists I have to do. Attending irrelevant
meetings, making noteless notes on pointless policies. Power trips from the senior
management team, just because they can, not because they’re competent. And then
commuting home, traipsing mindless work with me, which eats into my own free
time. Tired all the time, miserable, fed up, bored, and doing what other people
tell me.
Is that
what I really want?
Is that
not why I left in the first place?
From
being a bizarre, weird little only child, I always knew I was different. Independent. Forthright. Freestyle.
I'm just not the norm.
I’m not
sure why I spent so many years trying to fit in, when I was born to stand out.
And
because of this, it pisses me right off when I don’t get to do whatever I want.
So a
normal job was never going to be right for me, because quite simply, I don’t
like being told what to do.
 |
| Young Kellyann dreams of the future... ...where she can grow up and work herself to death doing things she doesn't like for other people. Yay! Who wants to be normal anyway? |
Is it
thus going to be true that I’m not cut out for a ‘non-normal job’ as well?
Well that
depends on me, I suppose.
You see, you and I,
and everyone, are essentially infinite choice-makers in every moment of our
existence.
And it is
a stinging realisation that this year has been, in my eyes, unsuccessful
- because of me.
Being
self-employed means being self-starting, self-productive, self-directing and
self-acting. There’s nobody coming to save me, help me, or to wipe my arse. It’s
down to me, and me alone.
It is
said that many of life’s failures are people who did not realise how close they
were to success when they gave up.
If it was
that easy, everyone would do it. But business owners are willing to sacrifice
short term gratification, to experience pain and hardship, so that they can
live their life long-term in ways other people can only watch and dream of.
So am I
giving up and becoming “normal”?
Or am I
drying my princess eyes, telling myself to toughen the fuck up and working
harder to make next year far better?
What do
you think?!
