Courage to Fly Blog Hop

Photo by me

A few weeks ago, the fabulous Stephey Baker invited me to take part in the Courage to Fly Blog Hop. Every participant will be answering one series of questions, and this is mine:

Have you ever taken a risk on yourself? Pushed off the branch and flew into uncharted territory with nothing but inspiration fueling you?

This topic sang to me when I read about the Courage to Fly Blog Hop because it summed up pretty much my career, my life, up to now.

Take One

It started back in high school. I didn’t have the nerve to apply as an art major, much less apply to a specialized art college. I didn’t think my work in high school was good enough, and people around me, while they loved me, didn’t understand how badly I needed to hear “go for it”. I didn’t have enough faith in myself to do it anyway; I needed a push, a little support. They convinced me to be a film major instead, and I convinced myself they were right. So, I applied as a film major, was accepted as a film major, and started as a film major.

Halfway through my first semester, I was miserable.

I could barely stand to be on campus, and went home every weekend. I hated my film classes, I didn’t care about lighting or editing or post production or scripts or cameras. If anything, having to analyze a movie to death killed any enjoyment for me. I found myself critiquing every movie I saw, whether I wanted to or not, and I hated that I couldn’t turn off that part of my brain to just, for the love of everything holy, watch a single freaking movie.

Miserable.

So, I switched majors from film to art. Without ever having taken a single college-level art class, without knowing if I could do it, I switched. And I didn’t tell anyone for months because I didn’t want to hear how wrong they thought I was. Deep down, whether I could admit it to anyone or not, I knew this was what I needed to do for me.

And I was happier than ever.

Repeat

Skip ahead several years. I had graduated college, and was firmly installed in a corporate office. It wasn’t a bad job, but it definitely wasn’t for me. The more I worked, the more I wondered if this cubicle was all I could expect out of life from now on. My creative spark dimmed and died, and I was feeling stifled and smothered. I couldn’t breathe, and every day that I went to work and stared at my gray fabric-covered walls, my standard-issue desk, and the multi-line phone, it got worse.

When I tried to explain how miserable I was, I had people tell me to be grateful I had a job. Then the guilt started; I did have a good job, and not everyone else could say that. But I was restless, too. This good job that made me miserable wasn’t enough, and I knew it.

Then one day, I had the worst job review ever. The supervisor was nasty and hateful, and instead of approaching me as an adult with things I needed to work on, she attacked me personally. I was furious that she crossed the line, till I realized… she’s doing me a favor, whether she knew it or not. I put in my two weeks notice the next day, and I felt the weight lift off of me.

I didn’t have a plan, I didn’t have another job lined up. I just knew I needed out. And I got out before it was too late and I stopped caring about anything.

Third time’s a charm

I spent the next several months healing a bit. I was beat up emotionally, and questioning everything. I traveled, worked part-time, saw my niece being born, spent time with her and my sister right after, took care of myself.

Then, in May of 2007, I was on a family vacation to Hawaii and I tripped walking into a bead store. I’ve told that story before, but that was the start of a new chapter for me. It was there that I rediscovered my love of making art, and beads were the vehicle to get me there. I felt inspired again, and started Catie’s Blue a few days after I returned home. People (and loved ones) thought I was crazy, but something inside of me was on fire. I couldn’t ignore it, and I didn’t want to. I hadn’t felt that alive in months.

This time, I was going to do things my way. I had to. It was my life, and I wasn’t living it at all.

My Lesson

My entire artistic journey has been a lesson in learning to trust myself in order to fly.

When I started my business, lots of people were quick to point out all of the things I didn’t know (like I wasn’t aware of those things – I am my worst critic). But what they didn’t know was that I knew that creating was what I was meant to do. It took a while, but I realized that if I just listened to myself, I could be happy. The one person who knew what I wanted and what I needed the best was me.

In some ways, starting my own business was exactly what I had been preparing myself for. I learned the techniques I needed in college, and I opened the door to a new life when I quit my office job. Starting a business wasn’t a risk anymore; I had already taken the risks. Now, it was simply a choice to walk through the door I had opened or stay as I was.

I’m not afraid of risks and I’m not afraid of failing. I’ve gone out on a limb before, and I’ll probably be there again. The trick for me is not to go out on a limb when my back is against a wall, but to listen to myself to start with. It’s never quite as scary or desperate to be out on a limb when it’s my choice. That’s what my goal is now; listening, acknowledging, accepting.

And hey, it only took me three tries to get it right. If I can do it and learn this, I’m pretty convinced anyone can.

How about you? Ever been on the limb before?

This post is part of the Courage to Fly Blog Hop. Also posting today is Amanda from Prim and Propah.