Savor the Success - Business Network for women entrepreneurs

My husband's business isn't doing so well. His checking account is about as low as I've ever seen it. We've managed to keep his store in the black by cutting costs, primarily by not paying my husband a salary. 


That means I'm not only the main breadwinner, I'm now the only one. I have paying work lined up until April 1, which, in the freelance world, is actually quite stable. Still, the constant bad news about the economy coupled with the very real news about my husband's store has me on edge.


I keep thinking I'll get off the edge any day now. A few big clients seem interested in working with me. The problem is that they've been interested for quite a while, one of them since before Christmas. Although they gush about how much they love me and how much they want to work with me, none seem ready to commit.


I've been through this sort of thing before. It's part of the normal feast or famine existence of freelance life. Until this week, this uncertainty had only managed to create a small gnawing sense of uneasiness.


This week, however, that sense of uneasiness evolved into a sense of impending doom. That's because:

• I learned that a close friend was being laid off.

• My blog developed a 500 Internal Server Error.

• A website I was getting paid to write for lost its funding. The editor called me to inform me that, as of March 1, my services would no longer be needed.

When I'd learned of my friend's career problems, I'd been supportive, upbeat and hugely optimistic. I told him that he would land on his feet and that everything would be just fine. "You will overcome this," I'd said, and I'd really believed it, too.


When I noticed the 500 Internal Server Error, I just picked up the phone and started talking to India. I even complimented myself on my calmness.


By the time I got the news about my web job, however, my resilience was kicked. A pit dug its way into my stomach and the inability to focus on anything useful invaded my brain. I entered the Great Big Scary Uncertain Place, and I didn't like being there one bit.


I sat in front of my computer for a while, trying to encourage myself to work on the project that was actually paying our bills. I could not concentrate, though.


So I did what I always do when I feel crummy. I called Mom.


Before I could tell her about my Uncertain Place, however, she told me about her own. She finished with the fact that a dear friend of hers had just died. I felt guilty for wanting to talk about the loss of my web job when she was grieving the loss of a friend, so I blurted out, "This week is a sadness magnet. If you are going to die, lose a job, or have your computer crash, you are going to have it happen this week."


She said, "Oh don't even get me started about my computer!"


And then we both laughed until we cried.


"Well, there was one good thing," I told her.


"What?"


"You know that blog I wrote about Michelle Obama? The Chicago Sun Times picked it up. I mean it's not much. It's just on their website and I don't even think it's in a prominent place on their..."


"Would you just stop turning this very positive and wonderful thing into something negative? That's wonderful. Send it to me!"


So I sent her the link, which she forwarded to 30 people. Most emailed back telling her that her daughter was just fabulous. She forwarded all of their emails to me.


And something about seeing those emails gave me the courage to pay my bills. It allowed me to plan my next steps. It made me just that much more determined.


I told myself that a client was going to commit. I had nothing to worry about. My husband's business would survive. We'd find a way to pay the mortgage.


And even if none of that happened, the world wouldn't end. I could always sell off some stocks. Although they'd all lost about half of their previous value, our stocks (with the exception of General Motors) were still worth something. And if we burned through all of our savings, we could always beg our parents for help.


We would not lose our house. Even if we did, we could always move in with my parents.


And even if my parents lost their house, we could all move to my grandpa's old homestead out on the prairie in the middle of nowhere.


My grandfather survived the Great Depression there. So could we.
 

But it won't come to that worst-case scenario. It just won't.


Feeling more optimistic, I declared to the universe, "I am not giving up on this dream. I don't care how hard it gets. I will not give up. I will persevere. I will overcome."


I won't give up. I just won't, and if you are in the Great Big Scary Place, you shouldn't either.

If you loved this blog, then you'll probably love Alisa's other blog, too. Alisa writes about the ups and downs of marriage--and life in general--at www.projecthappilyeverafter.com. Today, you will an entry that demystifies why men do gross things, such as rearrage their packages in public. You can find her on Twitter, too. Her handle is @alisabow.