It's Not Easy Feeling Green

Or, I want to work with you -- just not quite yet

Even superheroes have day jobs. Superman is a newspaper reporter. Spider-Man is a freelance photographer. Batman runs a very successful family business.

So it shouldn’t surprise you that writing approximately three Substack posts a month isn’t my only gig.

Neither is art journaling.

When I’m not oversharing about my relationships or posting cute cat videos, I make a living as an instructional designer. I’ve been at it for a decade now, first as a curriculum manager at a fast-growing real estate education company, then on my own as a freelance instructional designer for several real estate clients.

I’m really good at it, too. My courses get stellar ratings from learners. With very few exceptions, content I develop sails through the regulatory approval process. I have this knack for dissecting a topic, organizing it into optimized chunks, and identifying sticky points in the content that might confuse learners or cause them to pause. I anticipate learners’ questions at the development stage and preemptively create content that answers them.

My courses are more organized than this delicious spread of wrap-etizers.

That’s not too shabby, considering I stumbled into instructional design. But here’s the thing about writing about real estate: It doesn’t light me up. Like at all.

And what I’d really love to do is take my skills and apply them to something that does light me up. I’m talking about making courses that promote art and creativity and joy and expression and self-acceptance and quirkiness and love.

I’m picturing:

• a paper artist who wants to create a how-to video for a kit you’ve put together

• a sock-puppet devotee who wants to inspire others to see their sock drawers as a source of whimsy

• a mixed-media artist who wants to show people how to start experimenting with combining different techniques

• a professional organizer who wants to create a library of courses that take clients through their home, room by room

• a hair stylist who wants to help clients who are experiencing hair loss by providing tips and product recommendations

• a semi-professional junk journaler who wants to show others how to find art in the everyday detritus

Or maybe a mystic who wants to share the delight of burning sage while eating canned corn beneath a striped umbrella…

But because I’ve never done it before, I feel like a complete novice. I feel like a fraud advertising myself as an instructional designer—because I’ve never gone to school for it, never read a book about it, never taken a certification course in it. Despite 10 years of accolades, positive feedback, and a gut sense that I really do know how to do this, the imposter syndrome has scared me from pursuing work with creative clients—simply because it’s uncharted territory.

I want to make the leap into it; I feel inspired and I’m working with a coach who will lovingly urge me forward with the idea.

But.

I’m also in the throes of endometriosis-driven perimenopause. The fatigue is real. I’m having a major surgery to address said endometriosis in October.

Is this how I’ll feel afterward? Hopefully. But not for a while.

Whenever I challenge myself to level up or take on a big self-improvement adventure, my beautiful brain is flooded with questions, what-ifs, hesitations, and oh-nos. Much of it is junk; fear-based brain-spam. But some of it is true Knowing. When it all comes at once, it’s hard to discern the treasure amongst the trash.

I’m learning (always, always learning) to slow down in these moments. To step back and just listen.

And in this latest listening, I hear my Knowing say, oh so gently:

We have to take care of ourselves first, Beautiful. Let’s slow down a bit.

And oh, she is right. As much as I have a desire to reach out to creatives and see what we can put together, I need to focus on self-care for the next several months. I need to nourish and strengthen my body before my surgery and weeks-long recovery period.

This will require copious quantities of kale.

I need to give myself so much grace as I contemplate and prepare for a life without the life-giving internal organs that make me a woman—the lack of which will plunge me straight into the deep end of menopause.

Now is not the time for me to work with creatives. Now is the time to be creative. Create a safe space. Create a strong body. Create a love-filled resource circle.

My time will come. I have a deep sense—another Knowing—that my talents can help bring more beauty and joy into people’s lives. But right now, I need to direct that energy toward myself. And that’s okay.

Here’s to creating a soft place to land

✨ If you’re here, reading this footnote, I’m ever so grateful. ✨

1. A free subscription means the world. Truly.

2. A paid subscription? That’s next-level kindness. I’ll definitely send you something sparkly in the mail if you want. (Seriously—glitter is at the ready.)

3. Not a fan of subscriptions? That’s okay too! My writing assistant, Bird, accepts tips in the form of snacks and chin scritchies.

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