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“Hi, Allison! Long time no talk. How have you been?”
I should have been wary reading that statement. But I’m a trusting person. You don’t need to work for my trust, you have it instantly. Of course, when you break it, my trust is gone forever. I cut you out, you’re never coming back into my life. Perhaps it’s not the healthiest outlook but it works for me. So needless to say, I replied to this message. Back when we spoke more regularly she'd always been a kind person. So I told her I was great and asked how she was. Asked what she was up to these days. You'd think someone who spends ample time around pilots wouldn't be adverse to flying. But logic doesn't win every argument.
As I pull in, my eyes sweep the tiny, congested parking lot, searching for an empty place to park. Preferably a quiet spot with no vehicles in the immediate vicinity. I find it on the far side of the coffee shop and slowly roll into it. Park. Check around in a way that I hope comes across as discreet and not like I’m waiting for my dealer. And then, cautiously, I begin to unpack my bag of supplies.
Sitting awkwardly on the overstuffed velvet brown sofa, I watched as my grandma shuffled down the hallway. I’d just announced that I was going to become a writer. Specifically, that I’d been accepted into Journalism school at Marquette University. And being eighteen, I thought myself a pretty big effing deal. It was the year following MU Men’s Basketball making it to the final four—one of the highest application years to date. And they’d accepted me. Clearly, I was going to go on to do great things.
I got fired from a job I loathed.
Writing that makes me angry with myself all over again. Not only was I fired from a job I loathed. But also because I worked my ass off trying to keep the job I loathed because I knew I was going to get fired if I didn’t. And—here’s the real kicker—I knew I wasn’t a fit for this place within the first week of my being there. Yet the harder I worked, the more positive I tried to be, the more hours I put in...the more things fell apart. Here’s what I hope you take away from this post: Marketing has power. And good marketing. Well. That has the power to inspire change. But here’s a secret about marketing that you won’t read often. You don’t have to know how to do it all. And I put that in italics because you need to let those words sink in. You don’t have to know how to do it all.
When was your last, "WTF was I thinking," moment?
What did it pertain to? Something at work? At home? A small, personal decision? A huge, potentially life-altering choice? You probably made your decision with the best of intentions. It's not like the majority of us walk around, wondering how we can drive ourselves nuts for days or weeks on end. But maybe you weren't fully aware of how difficult the road to your goal would be. And the deeper into attaining your goal you get, the more you sometimes want to give it up. Who knew it would take so much time? Work? Energy? You’re familiar with the throbbing headache that comes along with learning how to market.
There’s so much industry jargon! Self doubt feels like a constant presence, doesn't it? I mean it. Is. EVERYWHERE!
Like when you want to try a new hobby and that little voice tells you, you won't be any good at it. Or when you're finally given that big project at work—offered a chance to show your boss your stuff—there's a little voice in your head that likes to ruin it for you. You're probably guilty of this: saying the cliched phrase, "Everything happens for a reason."
I know I am. And then I'd go about my life, figuring that whatever lesson said person needed to learn was being learned. So good for them. |
AuthorAllison Janda is a self-published author. She is married and has 3 children (fur) and 1 baby (human). ArchivesCategories |
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