Annoying Pinspiration Quote #2
"Success is going from failure to failure without losing enthusiasm."
The nice part about living in the same city as my dad meant that I was only ever a train ride away from immediate comfort. Walking into his corner store, I found my dad behind the counter, reading a Woman's Day magazine. "That'll rot your brains out, Dad," I said, smiling weakly.
"Actually, Daughter, these magazines are highly educational. Did you know some rapper named his daughter North? Apparently, you can name kids anything these days." He stood, a giant of a man with a flowing mane of grey hair and a beard to match. Although he had no belly, the smaller kids who frequented his store were convinced my dad was Santa – a rumour he did nothing to dissuade.
"How are you?" he asked in his rumbling tone, wrapping me inside a hug.
"I'm okay, Daddio." I wanted to shield him from the total devastation of my life if I could. My dad had been through enough.
But those savvy blue eyes didn't miss anything. He examined me and said, "Nah, you're not. Not even a little bit. Is it Cody?"
"How did you know?"
"Because if it wasn't him, you'd be there instead of with me." He shrugged. "I'm lucky. You only visit me when you're happy, and you visit Cody when you're not. I get the good deal. Except lately, you're not visiting much, and now you're here and you look like someone put a cane toad in your shoe. I figure a certain psychologist might have something to do with it."
Sighing, I wandered over to the freezer and selected a chocolate ice-cream on a stick. "It's not just Cody. It's everything."
"Those are four dollars," said my father.
"I don't have any cash, Dad."
"They're still four dollars."
"I'm your flesh and blood! Have a heart, sir."
"Unpack this crate of tomato sauce and we'll call it even."
"Slave labour." I stuck the ice-cream in my mouth and took the box from my dad's plate-sized hands. Together, we walked down the narrow aisle until the sauce shelf appeared, and I earned my keep, placing the bottles in straight lines with one hand and devouring my Magnum with the other. While I worked, I verbally recapped my woeful life situation, managing to keep the tears at bay by concentrating on the different sauce varieties; low salt, traditional, smoky barbeque.
"So, Cody and I aren't talking, I'm about two days away from being homeless, I'm single, I don't have a job and my life is going nowhere." Awash with self-pity, I licked the little wooden stick clean. "But I suppose as long as I can trade manual labour for ice-cream, I won't starve."
"See? It's not that bad." My dad laughed and clapped a long arm over my shoulder. "It's going to be okay, my girl, you'll see."
"I don't know what to do next, Dad. The worst part is... I think Cody might be right." The words stuck in my throat, but I knew they were true. For the last few nights after our argument, I'd lain awake, contemplating everything he'd said. "I'm starting to think it might be better to fail spectacularly than fail miserably."
"Learning opportunities, not failures," Dad said, wandering back to the counter.
"Now you're starting to sound like Cody. But still, failing is failing. And I'm so scared to lose anything else."
Sometimes, when Dad and I were standing together, I could sense my mother hovering somewhere nearby, watching, desperate to join the conversation. I'd never raised the eerie feeling with Dad, but when I looked up, his eyes were red-rimmed. "You know, Mia... We never told you when you before, but you... You weren't your mum's first baby."
"What?" The word escaped me as a breathless hiss.
"She had four pregnancies before we had you. Three miscarriages and a still-birth. Back then, the doctors told her she should give up, that trying again would probably end in heartbreak, or put stress on her body for nothing."
"Dad... I'm so sorry."
He sniffed. "I'd had enough, but she was tougher than me, your mum. She looked at me and said, 'Albert, if I don't try, I'll never know, and I'll regret it forever.'" He smiled, lost in memory. "You came along nine months later, and I had to put up with 'I told you so's' for years."
I couldn't speak. The knowledge was too much to absorb for a Thursday afternoon, in the run-down little store my parents had opened together, where my mother's spirit still clung to the walls.
"Your mum was brave, Mia, and you're brave too. I know why you're scared – life is scary, Daughter, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise – but you're strong too."
"Thanks, Daddio."
He kissed the top of my head and lumbered around the counter. "Now, as for being homeless, that's not going to happen. You can move in here, and you know that. But it's not where you want to be, is it?"
"No."
"Then suck it up, and go and sort things out with Cody. As for the rest, I'm not much for advice on careers and whatnot, but I was reading this article..." Al flipped through the glossy mag until he landed on a pic of Evianna Moore, the TV host of Australia's most watched talk show. "This Moore lady, she said something about a life coach thingy. Said it changed her life."
I picked up the magazine thoughtfully. "Well, I do know a guy who owns a pretty awesome therapy centre..."
***
Years before, when Cody had first established Sound Mind Psychology, he'd shown me around the therapy rooms proudly. "You're in the system as a VIP patient," he'd said, smiling. "I can't treat you, of course, but you can come in, any time free of charge, no questions asked, and see any of the other therapists."
"Aw, my best friend telling me I need to get my head checked?" I'd joked. "Best gift ever!"
I knew he hadn't meant anything by it, but after what happened with the psychiatrist when my mum died, I was done with therapy forever. Ironic, considering when Cody found out what had happened, he'd become inspired to become a psychologist himself, but I'd been burned. For years, I'd shunned all mental health mumbo-jumbo, and although Cody did his best to not analyse me, I knew that he believed I'd be better off talking to someone.
Weirdly, the idea of seeing a life-coach was way less intimidating than seeing a shrink. I'd read the article my dad showed me, and the picture of Evianna and her coach, Heather, had made something soften inside my chest. Heather was a funky red-head with dancing eyes. She looks like the kind of cool chick you'd open up to about everything, and she'd have sage advice to share on all topics. Like a sexy Buddha.
So, on Cody's afternoon off, I sidled into my best friend's business and approached the desk. "Hi, I'm here to see Savannah?"
The perky desk girl didn't recognise me; I rarely visited Cody at work. "You must be Ms Pike? Savannah should be out shortly."
"Great. Thanks." Hiding in a cushy chair in the corner of the waiting room, I reassured myself. This is a good thing. Someone to talk things over with. Cody won't find out. Maybe, Savannah would become my friend, like Heather and Evianna did. I pictured a slightly older woman with a comforting smile, a big sister type with warm words and reassuring advice.
"Ms Pike? I'm Savannah." The woman who emerged from the corridor to collect me looked so different from my imagination, it took a moment for me to respond to her greeting.
"Oh! Hi!" I scrambled up, suddenly feeling underdressed compared to the sleek Savannah. I wore faded jeans and a baggy sweater in a pale mint, while Savannah looked ready to broadcast from the White House. With silky hair in a severe pony tail and dressed in an immaculate white jacket and mini-skirt, Savannah projected confidence and excellence.
"Come through." She directed me into the office in the far corner and closed the door behind us.
I sank down onto the uncomfortable chair, feeling Savannah's eyes on me. "So. Hi."
Savannah appeared to have appraised me and found everything lacking, if her expression was anything to go off. "Mia. What can I do for you today?"
"Well, I'm not sure exactly. I've never had a life coach before-"
"I'm not a life coach," said Savannah dismissively. "I'm a directional advisor."
"Oh. Sorry. And... what's that?"
"I specialise in helping people get what they want," Savannah explained, lowering herself into the chair opposite mine with the grace of a panther/ballerina hybrid. She crossed model-esque legs and said, "My background is in corporate coaching. I've worked with heads of industry all over the world. Wherever you want to go, I can get you there."
"Um. Great?" I laughed, and the noise sounded strained. "I have things I want, so that's great, but I'm just... I don't know if I'm ready to try for the stuff that I want. Is that a problem?"
Savannah didn't roll her eyes, but the irritated lift of her retinas was pretty close. "As I said, I assist with goal achievement. If you just need someone to hear you out on all your issues, you're better off seeing one of the psychologists. The owner of the centre, Dr Harrison, he can refer you onto someone better suited to your therapeutic needs."
"No!" I said, much louder than I'd intended. "No. Cody, Dr Harrison, he can't know I'm here. He's my best friend. He can't be my therapist too."
"Oh God, you're that Mia?" asked Savannah. Her clear blue eyes flashed with new understanding as she leaned forward.
"You know me?"
"He talks about you. A lot."
For a moment, I wondered why Cody would bother chatting with staff about me. Then I remembered. "You dated Cody! I forgot. Crap. Is that a conflict of interest? Do I need to find another advisor?"
"We're not dating anymore," said Savannah smoothly. "It's not a problem." She stared at me with renewed interest. "So, you're the famous Mia... Maybe I can help you after all."
"Really?" I'd almost given up hope and I clutched at the slender straw Savannah was offering. "If you can do anything to help, I'd be so grateful. My life is a hot mess. Actually, it's not even that hot. It's a luke-warm mess. A tepid mess. I mean, you look like the kind of woman who has her stuff together. I bet if you were failing at anything, you'd just knee somebody in the balls and get on with winning."
Savannah seemed to bristle happily at my words. "It's true. I don't put up with failure."
"I wish I was like that." In a few sentences, I relayed my paralysing fear of falling short. "I feel like I've got two paths in front of me. One, I move in with Cody, get another boring, middle-management job and keep dating guys who don't really interest me."
"Or?"
"Move in with my dad and regroup until I get up enough courage to go after the things I really want." Even saying the sentence aloud caused a small vurp to lick up my throat.
"That's going to be hard to do when your fear of failure is going to keep you from achieving anything significant."
"So what do I do?"
Savannah checked the digital clock on her spotless desk. "We've got fifty minutes. Let's get to work."
"Doing what?" I wondered as Savannah thrust a piece of paper and a pen in my direction.
"Imagine that you're ninety-eight years old and looking back on a successful life. Think about the two biggest goals you picture yourself having succeeded at, in order for you to feel good about your final days."
The answer was obvious; I knew in my heart the two things that would make my life complete. "Okay."
"Now, write them down."
"But..."
"Do it," Savannah barked at me like a spin cycle instructor, and the severity of her tone forced me into action.
With shaking fingers, I poured my heart out onto the A4 sheet. The deepest longing of my soul found its way to the surface as I printed, Be a professional photographer, and Marry my soul-mate.
Savannah nodded. "Tell me more about being a photographer."
"I don't know. It's just something I've always wanted to do. I studied photography in university, but I freaked out about it not being a steady career, so I switched and did a business management qualification instead. It's embarrassing, admitting that I want a job that's a hobby for most of the world."
"What about the soul mate?" Savannah leaned in, her eyes narrowed in keen interest. "What does that relationship look like?"
Closing my eyes, I said, "He's kind. He makes me laugh. We have a deep connection. He wants the same things I do, children, a future, a home, but he helps me to be the best version of myself. We're best friends and lovers and teammates."
Behind my eyelids, Cody's image floated up. He was the man I was describing, because he'd always wanted those things. He was a close to perfect as a man could be in my mind.
Sure, there was the fact that I would never go there and that Cody was a massive player, but for now the dream of a life with Cody would do for my concept of soulmate.
"Good." I opened my eyes just in time to watch Savannah draw two lines through both of my most sacred dreams with a giant red marker.
"Hey!"
"Stay with me, Mia." Savannah explained herself, arching finely plucked eyebrows. "These are both wonderful, noble dreams, but you're not ready for either of them right now."
"Excuse me?"
"If I said to you right now, go out and apply for photography jobs, what would you do?"
"I don't know. Probably throw up and hide under my bed?"
"Exactly. You're not ready to succeed yet – not until you've lost your fear of failing."
"And how do I do that?"
Savannah grinned wolfishly. "You have to fail. A lot. You have to fail so much, you lose your fear of failing. It's like saturation therapy – except instead of shoving you in a dark box with a bunch of snakes, we're forcing you out into the world to deal with failure."
I swallowed, terror crawling up from my belly. "I don't know, Savannah..."
Standing up, Savannah towered over me in killer stilettos. "Mia, if you're serious about finding a soulmate and earning a living as a photographer, I can get you there. But you're not ready yet. You need to throw yourself into life with the intent to fail until failing doesn't scare you anymore."
"I'm not sure if this madness or genius," I muttered, dropping my head into my hands.
"Genius," said Savannah without a trace of humility. "Move in with your father. You're going to be a very unreliable roommate for the next few months, and you don't need to burden Cody with this."
"Oh." Not that I'd been looking forward to imposing on Cody and his spare room, but the company would have been nice. Now, it would be me in my old bedroom above Dad's corner store.
Just as I began to doubt, my gaze fell on the two struck-out lines. Soulmate. Photographer. If this insane plan worked, if I could finally find the confidence to go after what I wanted, it was worth it. I said, "Okay. Where do I start?"
"Just go out into the world, with your mind open to every possibility. You need to be on the lookout for ways to try and fail," said Savannah. "Date someone you wouldn't normally go out with. Crash a party. Apply for a job you're not qualified for. Give yourself the chance to start failing, until the failing doesn't frighten you anymore. Come back and see me in a few weeks and tell me all about it, and we'll go from there."
I swallowed thickly.
"Trust me, Mia. I know what's best for you."
And because Savannah was so poised and focused and attractive, I nodded and placed myself in my directional advisor's hands.
All my stories happen in the same universe. If you spotted the sneaky book cross-over mention, hashtag the title in the comments. And please remember to vote! Click the star before you move on xxoo