So for the past ten months or so, I've been working with this studio which meant semi-regular classes, which in turn allowed me to connect with some semi-regular attendees and more importantly, with people who were on the same wave-length and vibe. Something I was and am tremendously grateful for.
But something that also made me linger in place far longer than was healthy for me, and also made me tolerate behavior that wasn't really professional or appropriate.
Like many at the beginning, like many kind and generally well-meaning, like many wandering the world a little lost, I held on to the illusion of security that this place represented for me.
"Well, at least it's something..."
It took a lot of repeating and mounting disappointments and disillusionment for me to say, finally, no it's really not. And certainly not enough to continue in this relationship.
Just because you want it to work doesn't mean it's working.
Though I held on to that a lot. I guilt-tripped myself over being away too much, over not being flaky. If only I try more. Except as in many things in life, it doesn't really matter how much you try (which isn't to say you should just stop trying). Some things just aren't meant to work for you.
But I wanted it. I poured myself into it. I customized the flow even for the one person in the class who was non-paying anyway. I hustled. I showed up. I brought treats.
I'm not resentful. I genuinely loved doing it and still do. Guess I'm trying to show (myself) here I tried. But when, even after almost a year of actually trying, nothing improved, well, there comes a time when you gotta call a spade a spade.
Putting up with shit tells people exactly what you're willing to tolerate.
Something that took a looot of learning in my private life. Apparently didn't transfer over in the professional part. Oh well. Guess I had to learn that lesson again. Down the months, there were many weird, inappropriate, outright creepy moments working for this studio (not to mention the crass lack of professionalism on their part that was there from day one).
At first, I chose to work there because they didn't ask for money (a lot of studios do, and it's up to you to make it back, then make something on top to actually live with). But cheap is as cheap does, and this place reminded me time and again that I was choosing something inferior. It took a long time, especially as I'm not in a place to pay for studio space at the moment, but it did finally lead me to the conclusion,
Fuck it, I'd rather pay, and not have the hassle.
The comfort of the known has you in a chokehold, even if you don't realize it.
I'm someone who quite enjoys adventure and the unknown. I have in me something of a gipsy, wandering (and wondering, for sure) soul. But that didn't stop me from anchoring here temporarily and letting the comfort of familiarity scare me off the great unknown.
I was running in circles with the idea "but what if I lose the little I worked hard to have?".
Ultimately, the real question turned out to be -- can I be content with this little? With this crumb of what it could be that's draining energy and time?
It's not always easy letting go and making space in your life, but if you never do, where will new, better things settle, eh?
In the end, after a very long time of debating and putting it off, I bit the bullet yesterday and texted the studio owner that Friday would be my last lesson at their place. And boy, was it a relief. Is this what people with jobs feel when they stick it to an annoying boss? Gotta say, I got the charm.
It felt so good, so freeing, even if I don't know how it will continue. If I'll lose the few people who are regulars. If I'll drift for a while, not knowing where to settle. It felt right, and this morning, all the people who have become regulars congratulated me and wished me luck in this new phase. I know it's pretty standard and all...
...I just don't know how I allowed myself to forget the excitement and potential of, the reason to congratulate yourself for new beginnings.