“What if I mess up?” “What if hates it?” “What if I never live this down?”
“Bre your client is here.” My thoughts are quicksand, the more I think, the less I’m able to move. My hands are two trembling earthquakes as I set up my station. Each second a chaotic whirlwind of emotion. Finally, I hear my own heels click on the hard tile, announcing my presence. Shoulders thrown back, eyes locked on my client like predator on prey, I pain on a radiant smile and a chipper tone. “Hi I’m Bre, I’m going to be your stylist today, please follow me to my station.” As my heel turns the pressure in the chest tightens, winding and contracting around my lungs. I carefully drape my client, hands cemented with false confidence. His face held the faces of all the others I would one day see in my chair. In him I see all the work I have yet to do. The demands of every ghost yet to come is embodied in him. Each syllable of every letter of every word is like a foreign language. Yet, I plaster on that million-dollar smile and just tell myself to “fake it until I make it”. As I begin to cut, I come to a key realization; that fear in essence is just false evidence appearing real. My instincts kick in and it feels like learning to ride a bike all over again. Fear was a wall, and I was breaking it down. All this fear of uncertainty and lack of knowledge was just a mirage. After the drowning waves of fear within me turn to a calm sea, I realize that I knew it all along. Many moons later I hear that same hum again; “Bre your client has arrived!” But this time, the things I viewed as weapons of my own demise have turned into my most useful tools. That fear of failure instead of holding me back, drove me forward. It empowered me to achieve success.
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Passing through the sliding-glass door-way it seems as if the clocks have stopped along with her heart. Light sprinklings of dust cover like newly fallen snow. Maple floors howl of emptiness. Cream colored walls whisper bittersweet snapshot childhood memories of what this place once was. TV’s stare back with blank faces. Plants now wilt with despair. Stillness now envelopes this place happiness once called home. The timeless woman is gone, and with her- my safe place. |
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