It happened again!
Despite all my planning and preparation over the past few months, I sat paralyzed before my next pitch practice. Realizing how tired I was, I moved to the edge of my stiff wooden chair, quickly glancing at the 08:56am on the screen. I logged on - mentally I clocked in.
I pressed my eyelids together and heavily exhaled, tilted my chin to my chest and then took the biggest breath I’d taken all day.
Simultaneously, I felt frantic and slightly anxious about freezing in front of a crowd again. I’m stretching myself, I reasoned. I’ll have more practice and be stronger for the next practice. Every day a little better.
My eyes glanced impatiently around at my living room office as I stared against a bright desk lamp. Will I be the only woman? Will I be one of the few or the only person of color? Again?
Quickly bypassing a pop-up notification to update my operating system, I watched the “host will let you in” message float at the center of the screen. My fingers fumbled as I closed all other browsers and swiped through my notes on the tablet. My eyes darted to the clock. 09:02am.
“If you’re on time, you’re late!” the stern voice of my German college professor echoed through my mind before I heard an internal voice state with conviction, 8:56 is more punctual than last week’s 9:02. Huzzah!
At 9:04am, I sent a quick Slack message, feeling my shoulders slightly melt with relief. I made contact! Absentmindedly scrolling through emails, I waited. At 9:06am, I switched gears to reviewing digital marketing tasks -- definitely not my preferred element of developing an organization, but a necessary part of growing my business. A ping prompted me to check my Slack account and I felt my throat tighten. A reminder message stared back at me. Pitch practice at 9am, yes. I was on the wrong platform.
In a rush of surprise, frustration, and confusion, I instantly regretted the hasty Slack message.
I mentally shook my fist at the insufferable amount of email communication I’d been sifting through for weeks. Inbox Zero was a thing of the past. I scowled at the vision of my late night Self archiving emails in bulk, continuously adding to the weekly to-dos to navigate the implosion of the past quarter.
I pressed my eyelids together and heavily exhaled, tilted my chin to my chest and then took the biggest breath I’d taken all day.
I repeated my #mondaymantra twice silently before a grid of faces appeared before me.
I am determined.
I am enough.
Monday — 1.
Makeda — 1.
~~~~
Ah, the incredibly steep learning curve of transitioning from a freelancer to a business owner. Stay tuned for the next chapter in #ScienceofSelf.