Imaginary Numbers

Nearly two years ago*, I had an idea.

I played with it, refined it a little, and broached it with a few certain friends who would have a very informed opinion on it. and who would also be brutally honest about it.   They raved about it.

I then casually mentioned it to a few professionals in the field who could possibly have use of it.  They too, raved about it.

I explained it in some detail to an expert in how to Make It Happen, and she raved as well.  She said it was original, and extremely marketable.

So why the hell isn’t it in play?  Because I sabotaged myself.  I have no other excuse but that.

There were circumstances, yes.  My father died, my marriage hit the wood chipper, there was dissension among some family members, my job became even more toxic both emotionally and physically, my mother’s health started to slip, and the list goes on.  But the bottom line is that I failed to prioritize something that has the potential to solve the job issue, and to make me really, really happy.  I have the chance to do something that I would truly love to do, that would have a real impact on real kids in the education world.  And yet, I let it sit, dormant and yearning to be realized.

Erika Napoletano is a blogger whose writing I avidly follow. She posted a link on her Facebook page the other day to this incredible article that really knocked me on my ass.  I read it twice, three times, and realized just how badly I’d crippled myself with my unbelievable fear of failure.  What if I do this and it doesn’t fly?  What if I invest all of this time, energy, creative passion into, and it gets laughed back onto the street?  What if, what if, what if?

I decided then and there that I was done living so far up the ass of fear that my own dreams slip away.  That is not the example I want to set for my kids.  The Professor is majoring in Entrepreneurship for fuck’s sake.  How much more courageous do you get?  The Artist is diving headlong into a double major and a fascinating future path.  And my Ambassador?  Like his sisters, he graduates at age 16, and after his requisite stint at community college, plans to cross the pond for his university experience.  So apparently, I’ve raised independent, courageous, amazing kids.  How the hell did I manage it when I haven’t gotten my own fears conquered?

It’s time.  I have the basic structure sketched out, I’m pondering the details every spare second (my hour-long commute makes for great think-time!), and my beach weekend over Christmas will be spent putting the model together.  Then to work on the marketing and outlines for continuity.  It’s time for me to make this happen, and come hell or high water (or frigid temperatures, right now!), I will have this.

*an absolutely shameful amount of time!