I’ve often thought about starting my own business. Why? It’s not like I hated my career in advertising, I couldn’t have. Most weeks I spent at least 60 hours slogging away at it. It was my life. What’s not to love? sleepless nights, skin break outs, skipped meals, headaches (most likely due to dehydration).
The job itself I enjoyed, (did in fact once love), working with smart and creative minds, meeting an impossible deadline, presenting a brilliant idea that was bang on brief, spotting a typo just before pressing the print button. But over the years (almost 20) it had consumed me, I hardly made time for anything else, least of all myself. I’d lost enthusiasm. Took it all a bit too seriously and even became massively frustrated that the passion I had wasn’t always shared by those who just wanted to pay the bills.
Life was passing me by at an alarming rate. So, I decided to quit (twice).
My first ‘career break’ (just before 1 turned 40) was spent travelling the US for 3 months. It was amazing.
31 states on the itinerary. A white 2-litre Mustang for the open road. Mouth watering buffalo wings to savour in every town. Legendary lists of craft beer in super cool brew pubs.
A dream for a girl looking for inspiration, surely. Well, it didn’t quite work out that way.
Instead, on my return I decided to give advertising one last shot, and where was the best place to do it, London of course. One interview with a big network agency. One job secured. Just needed to find a flat and move down within the week. No problem.
8 months later and that familiar feeling had arisen again. Why are you still doing this, you’re becoming too old, this isn’t your true passion, why aren’t you looking after your health, why not try something totally different?
I could have stayed and maybe figured out what I wanted to do, but that takes discipline and time, and when I couldn’t spare enough time to drink a glass of water, the chances of that happening were pretty slim. I just didn’t have the time. Or refused to make the time.
I just didn’t have the time. Or refused to make the time.
So, fast forward a couple of months and here I find myself, in Bali. For a 7 whole months. Yes. That’s over 5,000 hours just to focus on me. What the hell am I going to do?