The road kill story for entrepreneurs

About a week ago, the Philosopher and I were driving home from the grocery store in our new neighborhood.

(Not just any grocery store, by the way. Jungle Jims. Imagine Disney and Dean & Deluca had a love child, that dressed up in a wizard costume and roller skates. Yah, weird. Wonderful. Also, the guy that runs the joint is a marketing genius. Tacky, but genius.)

Anyway, it was nighttime.

The Philosopher was driving.

But then, there was a thud.

We hit something.

I felt it in my bones. Ew.

The Philosopher checked the rear view mirror, then turned the car around.

Now, the thing you need to understand about the Philosopher is that, in addition to sprinkling everyday conversations with references to Heidegger, he’s from Texas.

And Texas is one of those states where common sense is more raw.

(It’s not California or Jersey, is what I’m saying).

So as we drove back to the spot of the collision, he says to me, “hopefully, it wasn’t hit hard. And if it was, I want to make sure it’s not laying there suffering.”

The implication being that he’d hasten its passing, whatever it was.

Strangely, I found this to be compassionate and real.

We didn’t end up finding anything on the road, much to my relief.

But I keep thinking about that story, and the wisdom it holds for me as a woman growing her business.

The Philosopher just got a teaching job in Ohio, so this past month, we uprooted from our lives in South Florida, hired movers, loaded the dog and the art in the car, and drove north.

And while we did that, my business hit something.

Not sure if it was an animal or a speed bump.

But things slowed waaaaaaaaaaaay down.

At first, I panicked. Revenue is down! I am not talking to enough potential clients! I am screwing the pooch on my projections!

I felt bad. Really, really bad. Like, I am a failure and I so suck and what right do I have to pretend to be running a business bad.

The shrill chorus of shrillsters in my head was relentless.

It was like Bohemian Rhapsody, but just with the lyrics “you suck.”

It was exhausting.

So then, after a few weeks of really getting tired of listening to myself, I decided enough.

And I got all Texas.

I backed my metaphorical car up to go find the injured creature that I’d hit, and see if I needed to back up a few times over it so it could rest in peace.

I realize I’m being violent.

But that’s really what it was.

Upon investigation, I saw that the injured creature was a scared and anxious part of me, that had somehow linked my business success to my okayness.

Thankfully, I’ve developed some skills to tend to this creature within, both imaginative and rational.

I talked her off the ledge thusly:
“You have extenuating life circumstances, dear one. You have just moved. You can’t find a clean pair of panties, let alone the space to schedule conversations with potential clients. That is okay. No one will die if you take one month away from the business, to tend to something more important: your life.

And what do you need right now, sweetness?”

Turns out, I didn’t need money.

I checked. My expenses were covered, personally and for the business.  I checked our accounts receivable – both for the business, and for closing up our household in Miami. There was plenty on its way.

Oh. Well, that solves that, then!

But what I did need was rest.

I needed to wash every item of clothing, linen, and pillowcase in my new house. I needed to unpack boxes.

I needed to go walk in the woods with the dog and without a map, and talk to nature, or god, or who ever is talking to me when I look at the trees and hear the birds singing and get reminded of the life coursing through our veins.

I needed to sleep 10 hours a night, and spend two hours at the aforementioned grocery store in a state of ecstatic bliss, because I’ve finally found a place that sells udon and kale and Amish peaches and good local beer, all under one roof.

And in the business, I needed to regroup. Get my head on straight. Adjust my projections. Hold off on any sudden moves until I caught up with myself, personally. And make a lot of lists.

It’s funny, how automatic it can be to hit something, and just keep going.

But I don’t want to be on automatic pilot like that.

When you’re driven, it’s easy to train yourself to power through. Pedal on the gas. Get outta my way… I’ve got a destination!

But maybe going back to check what you hit is the wiser choice.

Mighty thanks to jimgoldstein flickr photostream for the “Driving Through Fall Color” image.

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