the crisis moment: getting your low out of the way and moving forward

first i warned her that i was going to hit her with some tough love and then i said, "you can't always have everything you want." i dished the reality check to a close friend and explained how this is a part of life, that it builds character, how there is a reason for everything. and unfortunately i hung up before i could express, "if i got everything i wanted, i would still have my storefront right now." but i didn't get to tell her that and i shoved the thought away refusing to lament or linger in self-pity. sometimes its hardest to wrap my mind around my own advice.

and that was a bad idea. i've been shoving that thought to the darkest regions of my brain and not wanting to think about it since last december--rarely allowing myself to indulge in the words, "i miss the store." i usually get that feeling when i bump into old customers and that's always bittersweet.

i didn't allow myself to cry about it until late january--it arrived like my grief for dead relatives--weeks later. i was standing in line at the post-office filling mail orders when i saw a neighboring business owner who had purchased my old cash register--i had been so happy that it would be going to her and not getting stuck in storage in our dark basement. she had taken the plunge with an innovative business plan of her own and opened her store around the same time as me. "last night was our last day open," she announced and the news rattled me. long story short, she had been duped by her landlord and been paying electricity for much more space than her storefront and it really hurt her financially. like me, she was at the end of her rope. when i got into the car, the knot in my throat finally let up and i began to cry for her but more so for me. i moarned our misfortunes too briefly.

sweeping stuff under the carpet has never garnered good results for me and it manifests itself in unhealthy and self-destructive behavior. this week, almost six months later, i finally allowed myself to get sucked into the black hole. i let my toughest critic (i.e. me) take sucker punches at me and i'm left bruised and defeated. failure is a word i refuse to entertain but it creeps up, and i feel so angry for my optimism, for the people who took advantage of me, i think about mistakes and i feel stupid about it. and then there is the monetary situation, i'm broke and that magnifies self-doubt and then i seem to teeter on the fringes of an identity crisis.

and now that i've allowed myself to fall back--way down into the bottom of the well--there is only one way to go and that's back up. the only thing that comforts my confusion is to write. i do what i had no time for when i had the store. i've been writing a lot: on the laptop, in the notebook on my night stand, taking writing workshops but this is the first time i've actually written about these feelings. i know stuffs gotta get purged if its ever gonna get sorted but i've resisted. and i'm having that crisis moment and i'm desperately looking for the answers.

and i guess i can start by declaring that i really miss my store and curating the book selection, merchandise and art. i miss the family of supporters that created the heartbeat of that little dream of mine.



































i took these pictures my last day there, when i dragged a ladder into the back and decided to get a birds eyeview of the space before we started dismantling it.