One Year of Being a Full-time Artist
Five things I would say to Past Me, the Me that stood at the threshold of a new beginning doing arguably one of the scariest things I’ve ever done:
Say yes to everything - even if it scares you. You can refine later.
Find one thing that works really well, and do it over, and over, and over again until you find the next thing that works really well. (I’m still learning this one…)
Intuition shows up in your stomach; anxiety shows up in your chest. Know how to discern the difference, and listen accordingly.
The most surprising and unexpected people will celebrate and support you. Focus more on that, and less on the silence from the people you thought would be there for you.
You don’t have to see the full path in order to take the next step. Sometimes that next step, leads to something unexpected that turns into your next opportunity, without you even knowing
This month marks one-year since I left my 22-year association career. I say I left to pursue my art but that’s only partially true. My catalyst for leaving was a new job offer, I’d been recruited by a different medical association to serve as their Director of Member Engagement. My brain told me that was the safe choice, but my nervous system told me something vastly different. The thought of walking away entirely excited me; the thought of picking up where I left off somewhere else filled me with dread. I felt it in my stomach, loud, thick, and heavy. And for once, I listened.
Understandably, there was a lot of fear and anxiety in the the first several months. 3 am panic made me question whether I’d ruined my life. There was grief for a career I’d long thought I wanted, and grief for who I was as a professional. Fear of the unknown, fear of what I’d do next, and fear of what happens when the money runs out. The pressure of not wanting to get it wrong, not wanting to make a single misstep, sitting heavy on my chest, I cried in my car. A lot. But despite it all, every single morning I woke up excited. There was fear and anxiety, but never ever dread. I held firm to the belief that I was lucky to cry in my car, because it meant I was doing something brave and taking a risk in pursuing something I had no idea would work (still don’t!). Despite it all, I never once regretted my decision to decline that other job. And I still believe I’m lucky because I get to try this; there aren’t a lot of people who get this opportunity and that is not lost on me.
But at some point in the last year I stopped being afraid. The anxiety eased. I stopped expecting myself to know what to do in an entirely unknown landscape. I realized that over the last year there are a lot of things I didn’t know how to do, but I figured them out. Things like buying my own insurance plan, or forming an LLC (this part still confuses me but the literal act of the formation is done, and that’s a win!). Money fluctuates, unexpected bills happen, and I still don’t always know what my next step is. Imposter syndrome is real, and I struggle with it. But when my chest starts to feel heavy again, I remind myself that I don’t have to have it all figured out. Future Me will know what to do when the time comes because Past Me bet on herself and made a life-changing choice without knowing what came next.