Confidence Via Failure: How I Closed 3 Studios and Found Happiness
Am I sad? Discouraged? Building 3 studios over 3 years and then closing them in an instant?
The entire month of June (and May and April and 1/2 of March) was just abysmal and full of so much sadness, anxiety, stress, and all the vodka and sleepless nights that come with that.
But now, that’s gone and I feel peaceful, happy, content, and just maybe even joy. I’ve been wondering why - why am I not more sad?
And I think it’s that I’ve developed confidence. Like real confidence. The kind where I know (not just telling myself to try to believe it) that I can do what I put my mind to.
Over the whole time of the studios, I had always been living in constant fear of losing them. When dancers cancel, quit, move away, complain, or anything went wrong, I took each of those as a sign that it wouldn’t work out after all. “See, they don’t want this service. They won’t stick around, adults don’t want to learn ballet after all. See, you‘re not good enough to keep all this running smoothly.”
All the little things became an affirmation of that small voice in my head that thought that I am not capable of building something like this.
But then, my worst fears came true (and not even for the reasons I had imagined). I closed the studios.
And do you know what? The dancers are still dancing, in ways that I could have never imagined or facilitated.
The vision - ballet for all adults - is alive and well through the online program. We are dancing with people who live in rural places who don’t have access. We are dancing with people who have young kids and can’t always make it to the studio. I’ve met more male dancers in these 4 months than in the entire life of our Denver studios combined.
So if you live through your worst fear, if you have the worst conversations you can fathom, tell dozens and hundreds of people really bad news, feel the most immense sadness that you can imagine, and still live to see the other side, what is left to fear?
It’s not the end, it’s just different.
And in this next chapter, I can already feel that voice is quiet now. It no longer wants me to believe I’m inadequate. It seems to believe that I can do it.
