Remember when 2018 felt like it was ages away? Yeah, about that…
Happy new year! I hope you had a good one, wherever you were.
We celebrated like true icons… in bed. D asleep, me trying to sleep but all plans for breathing hjacked by the four gallons of treacle someone had injected into my chest. It didn’t work, so by 12.03 am on January 1st I was standing by the window watching a display of eight fireworks set off by a group of teenagers in the park close to the house.
This was especially challenging as, trying to teach the dogs not to fear fireworks, I had to keep my breathing slow and regulated at all times. Well it was slow, but I may have pushed the definition of regulated.
I was however hoping that the sticky start to 2018 meant the year might finish in triumph. But it’s the end of day three and already I’ve had a major wobble!
The crises in my own confidence are nothing new, they regularly drop by to fill my doubtful head with helpful stuff like
I can’t do this…
I’ll NEVER be able to do this…
I’m not cut out for it…
We’ll never make money…
I should just get a job…
We should both just get jobs and give up while we still have seven pence between us and financial devastation…
Oh the humiliation of giving up…
The humiliation will be worth it for the relief…
And so on.
Probably mostly due to being ill, but don’t ever underestimate my ability to self-sabotage even the safest of bets.
Today I dragged my sorry flu-ridden backside out of bed at 5.30am (ok, 5.45am) and staggered into BNI. By the time it came to do my 60-second presentation I was barely able to see the words.
After BNI I staggered across town to pay in a cheque, a deposit for a job we will be starting later this month. We’ve joined a well-known high street bank for our business banking and frankly they’ve been a major disappointment. There was me thinking the world of business ran slick, huh?
That list of disappointments was to rise even further this morning when the cheque was rejected at the ATM for being ‘faulty’. And of course, on Wednesday’s they don’t open until 10 for staff coffee and idle chit-chat for staff training.
At least the bank disappointment meant I was a whopping two minutes early for my new year new start meeting with our accounts lady. After three hours of chasing long-lost receipts and missing payments I drove home in a daze, climbing over two rested and newly-energetic but disappointed dogs and disappearing beneath my duvet in a feverish slump, feeling too worried and panicky about money to rest properly.
At 3.30 pm I sat bolt upright, grabbed my laptop and began listing our regular business monthly expenditure.
Insurance, memberships, fuel, taxes, advertising, accounting, wages – oh yeah, those.
The figures started to climb and my heart skipped a couple of beats.
I added a small weekly amount for me.
I took the monthly amount and multiplied it by 12 to get the expenditure for a year. Ok, bad idea. But then I divided the monthly total by 22 – the average number of working days per month.
I stared at it. It was a high number. But it wasn’t crazy high.
It was actually pretty much where we had been aiming at.
A breath of relief left my lungs, travelling more freely than any had for some time. In the midst of my terror came confirmation. I had needed to do this for some time and now I had done it.
And the figures were ok.
You know what? As long as we carry on carrying on, and we carry on with how and where we are carrying on to, I think we’ll do this.
To 2018! And the next crisis!