Back when I was a poor, struggling dancer in NYC, I hit a wall with my work and spent some time trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my career.  My fabulous voice teacher/therapist suggested I read and execute Judith Cameron’s The Artist’s Way, and I dutifully read the whole thing and did my Morning Pages without fail, every morning, for 90 days.  Did it change my entire perspective?  I don’t know if it was a life-changing experience, but the ritual of writing every morning put my head in the right place.  I think it gave me the bravery to try some new things, head out to some auditions, and alter my thought process about what it means to be “successful.”

Now it appears I am stuck once again.  This time though, to complicate the matter, I am a mother to two very active, creative children.  I want them to see me as a happy, vibrant Mommy.  One that has boundless energy to be creative and playful and ARTISTIC.  But I have lost much of those qualities over the years.  I’m trying very hard to get that back.  I want need to will be a better, happier person.

Let’s face it, though.  Who wants to get up at the crack of dawn every morning and write, knowing full well that little eyes might pop open at any second.  I know, I know.  You’re saying “why don’t you get up earlier, set an alarm, etc…”  Here’s the thing:  My kids have a sixth sense about this.  Without fail, every time I set my alarm early so that I can have some Mommy Time in the morning, one of them wakes up about two minutes before the freakin’ alarm goes off.  What a letdown.  So I’ve stopped doing it.  I wish that I could do the Morning Pages on a computer, but I know full well that is not the point.

One thing The Artist’s Way helped me to realize is that I have lots of creative ability, not just limited to moving my body around.  If I could just find supplemental work that would allow me to tap in to that, I’d be set.  Not that I have any massive training or expertise, mind you, but I feel I’m pretty good at whipping up an invite, or editing family photos and videos in to tear-jerking birthday gifts.  But I also know that those skills won’t land me a job right off the bat.  No one is just handing out these jobs. And even if I had the motivation and drive to start my own business, I also know that it can be a money losing venture that requires time to generate a client base. 

I often think about the “what if” jobs.  The ones that I’d have explored had I never been a dancer.  Or was younger and could go further in to debt to get some training.  The Dream Jobs.  I have zero knowledge of animation or CG technology, but what I wouldn’t give to have a job at Pixar.  Can you imagine?  A whole compound full of quirky, wickedly creative geeks?  Sounds like heaven.  I think I could have been a pretty good film and video editor, and at times I kick myself that I didn’t take my boss up on the offer to become an assistant editor at the commercial editing firm I worked for in NYC.  I just didn’t want to log in all of those hours at such little pay at the expense of my dance career.  But I find the thrill of getting the splices and cuts and timing of editing just the way I want them about as fulfilling as knocking out a good spirally turn or finding my standing leg.   Then there’s the other route, where I swap my MFA for a degree in Physical Therapy and become a sports trainer.  I have no desire to kneed old people’s arthritic hands.  But finding out what’s wrong with an athlete, then trying to rehabilitate them sounds satisfying.

However, let’s just take a step back.  Back in to the realm of reality.  What am I capable of?  Sure, I could probably find a job with a non-profit.  My time as a film and video archivist at a prestigious library unfortunately can’t get me a job as a librarian.  But perhaps it could get me a job at a museum or something.  Which means I’d be sitting at a desk.  A lot. Huh.  Not sure I’m ready for that yet.  If I wanted to keep my feet in the theater genre, I guess I could try my hand at musical theater, or even acting.  Yet all of that still carries the same level of rejection too.  Let me set the record straight here.  I have no interest in teaching little kids how to dance.  I don’t mean that as a slam against studio teachers (who I hold my appreciation and respect for), and certainly not out of dislike for small kids (hello?  I’m a MOM).  But I’m just not that good at it.  I got my MFA because I thought one day I would want to teach in higher education.   After getting burnt out with a two-year stint teaching community college students, I’m not so sure that’s the ultimate goal anymore.  Sooner or later, I’ll get this all figured out.  What is it they say, life is a marathon, not a sprint?