“There are people in this world who would kill to have your job. A job that actually pays.”
A solopreneur emailed asking me to share their story and seek help from my readers. The 13 subscribers at the moment and their friends. I choose to share it in the past tense because I believe this is her past. And you and I can help her build the present she desires. Pleasantly.
So here it is.
Her morning began with an hour of devotion. What some of you would call meditation. She was strongly spiritual never wanting to linger in bed the minute her 4 am alarm went off.
But even when she rose before the alarm, say thirty minutes earlier, her system knew it was time to create her new self. So she propped the huge dawn pillow at the most sacred spot in her house for prayers. The kitchen.
Something about her morning. It had to be early. The strict businessperson’s kind of early before everyone else began bickering about their day. An act she loathed.
She often asked the ungratefuls in her household why they even bothered going to work if they couldn’t appreciate what it brought them at the end of the month.
“There are people in this world who would kill to have your job. A job that actually pays” She whispered, almost to herself.
“It’s unfortunate you see it as a punishment instead as an opportunity to serve, and make a profit while at it.”
They probably didn’t get it. They hadn’t lived her kind of life. Devoted to serving, yet earning little or nothing at all.
How would they when they believed she had the best of life working from home, close to the ready bed and fridge?
She spent months on end trying to create this project or the other. But never letting go of her artwork. On a lucky day, she landed a teaching contract but the actual work and earning days were spaced out like desert rivers.
Her artwork, though intimately created, hardly sold regardless of her marketing prowess. Traders bargained the flesh out of her beautiful creation until she was left with no choice but to let it go. On several occasions though she stood her ground and sent them home empty-handed. With a threat to starve on her side.
She however kept creating. Just as she kept praying the first thing in the morning. Not because her prayers were answered, but because it was the only other thing her system never let her stop. Besides, her other businesses came and went before paying back the capital she injected.
A Dark Tunnel
“You’ve got fibroids in your uterus!”
It would probably not worry you because the solution is readily available. But to Rose, this meant more unbearable pain.
“We just have to remove your uterus. And maybe the cervix in case there are signs of cancer.”
Ok. When did health solutions get so dark so fast?
Her doctor saw nothing wrong with the solution. She was at most 4 years to menopause and wouldn’t need the organs anyway.
But she would need to allow at least 3 months to completely heal before going back to her art. The art that brought no money to her purse. No money for the family. More suffering in her life.
She went back to her ritual square, the kitchen, the only place she knew good things had happened. Where she made endless pancakes and masala tea for every guest who dared visit her. Especially her adopted sons. Strange that she never wanted sons of her own.
But there was business to be discussed with the Almighty.
“You spare my womb. I keep fit for the remaining days of my life.”
A negotiation specific and straightforward.
And from that day on she rode her imaginary horse back to the land of her dreams. The dream of becoming a bodybuilder.
So after devotion, she tuned in to an online fitness class and got her body sweating. Furiously.
But the fitness dream didn’t stop there.
She consulted Uncle Google, pharmacists and everyone who knew a thing or two about fibroids. She researched on supplements, healthy meals and the Dos and Don’ts of fibroids captives. She invested in WellWoman Plus, Maca, Memory Plus and foods she would have sworn inedible.
The first month went by.
Up went the intake of the supplements
Down went the coffee.
Up went the water.
Down went the pain.
Oh, so the satisfactory mornings!
But as the sun crossed the sky her eyes landed on her beautiful artwork and her heart sank. She still couldn’t tip the family’s budget.
How could someone feel so good about one part of their life and then so bad about another and still be expected to live?
Your Health. Your Wealth?Whenever she met folks with popping biceps and triceps, abs lined like chocolate bars and Pegasus thighs that dared not jiggle, she wondered if they were ok in every area of their lives. Especially their finances. Click To Tweet
Did the Almighty allow them to have it all, at least for the sake of the work they put in to stay fit?
She made discipline her new weakness.
One-hour conversation with the Almighty. Then came the ritual warm-up, toning the arms, taming her abs, and working the thighs and glutes. The climax presented a mad 30-minutes cardio threatening to baptize her entire body with sweat persecuting every ounce of fat!
The muscle conversion had to happen.
She closed the session with a 10-minute ice-water bath purifying her body for a creative day. It began with a whole breakfast with the family.
Her art career borrowed from the same weakness and she relentlessly created her heart out. But unlike her morning rituals, it never seemed to bear the much-needed fruit.
Why didn’t her mental sweat translate into the gold desired?
Why did her solopreneurship life sink so low into poverty instead of borrowing a leaf from her workout?
Why was the fruitfulness of her discipline so one-sided?
She examined her biceps. They seemed to take shape even though a friend mocked her about the sagging triceps making her efforts feel futile. And even though she had come down 5kg in 40 days, she began feeling that the expected improvement was taking rather long to get home.
Would her physique ever look anything like Kiran Dembla’s or would it like her business bring her another stretch of bitterness?
Was discipline, creativity and steep marketing the only tools needed to breathe life into her dying art business?
Maybe there is more to running a one-person business into success than meets the eye.
And maybe you, dear reader, could help my friend come up with a solution to save her dying business before she gives up. Will you? Please share your insights in the comment section below.