Go Big or Go Back To Your Shell Hole

Wow, it's been a minute! Exactly 97 days since my last blog entry. Then, in the last five hours of finally sitting down to write this, we experienced a neighborhood power outage. An involuntary timeout from all humming machines and glowing devices, so the universe can laugh at us fumbling around in the dark and remind us who's boss. I promise the radio silence was not out of neglect. It was necessary introspection to wrap my head around a big prospect. If anything, behind the scenes, I've been putting more time and care into my community, my business, and my family than ever before. Most of you know (if you don't, you're about to know) that I am officially starting my own studio. Lease signed, equipment purchased, a whole firing line of spreadsheet tabs opened like little soldiers, measuring tape wrapped around my head like Rambo. It's happening.

However, my soldier mode is making it impossible for me to celebrate - not yet. I needed to use the last three months as a time for me to go in, like a mental metamorphosis. Even going undercover like how caterpillars hide behind curled leaves, so no one can disturb a precious process. I found myself eating less, definitely sleeping less, and in general becoming less available. I needed to start breaking down parts of me for wings and stronger limbs to grow. This process of getting bigger felt instinctive but also very clunky and VERY hard for me. I've realized it's because I'm a master of treading lightly, making big waves but only in small kiddie pools.

For the last 20 years, I've either worked under someone else or subleased in someone else's studio. I learned something new in every space and met amazing people, but eventually outgrew where I was and had to migrate to another shell. The problem is, for the past 4 years (probably longer than that if I'm really being honest), I kept outgrowing my shell only to go to another shell that was still too small for me. Studio hours were limiting, uptight studio culture was too conflicting, and a slew of rules and plenty of micromanaging limited my teaching style. So even though I had more teaching experience than most of my peers, I stayed small. I taught small, stayed under the radar, and eventually crawled out to find another home. Doing the sideways crab walk all around Fremont, Wallingford, Ballard, Greenlake, back to Fremont. Somehow, I went from a butterfly to a crab - just go with it.

My system has normalized this though. As a kid I moved schools and states every 3 to 4 years and learned how to adapt very quickly to my new backdrop. I knew how to be like velcro. Attach myself just enough so that I enjoy my time and make a couple connections, but not too much so that it won't be too hard to peel off. The parts about this that have benefitted me is I can connect with just about anyone. I've experienced more gradients and a wider spectrum of color, cultures, and personalities. Which taught me to empathize quicker and judge slower. I also had this nothing to lose approach to most things. Putting myself out there had less risk because if they didn't like me, fine! I'm leaving anyway! It also means I can spot another "new kid" from across the room and hook them under my arm. When you walk in the studio for the first time, I WILL make sure you feel like you belong.

The problem with moving like velcro though is I never get to see the fullness of my potential or the full arc of any one relationship. I don't even bother going to reunions because I'm hardly part of the story. I'm like one of their favorite character in a chapter, but that's it. When you're always the fun-loving side character, you only know to play that part. At a certain point you start to believe that being in bigger homes, having deeper relationships, and being a main character with a complete story isn't for you. Those perks and benefits in life are for other people.

The thing about side characters is they need to be easy-going - not ruffle any feathers. They give no one a reason to be a target or compete with anyone. As the sidekick, you're also the sounding board for the main character's gripes and complaints. Stories of previous instructors who left to do their own thing, so every move they've made after they walked out of the studio have been picked apart. I told myself I would never be on the other end of that finger point or make myself too visible where I would be scrutinized by my peers. Instead of telling myself that this is even more of a reason to do something big so I can change this culture. I could prove you can both be successful and empower friends in the industry. People who focus on those that are doing worse than them, it's make it easy to stay right where they’re at. Being in a place of power is not so you can better protect yourself; it's so you can share, protect, and support everyone around you.

Even the crabs know that! Apparently, when a crab outgrows its shell, it waits nearby until a new crab looking for a shell moves in. They don't sabotage or compete. They share and they collaborate. Imagine if every business owner and community member worked that way.

There's another part of this that I would never be able to identify in myself but when I heard it, it really resonated. I recently heard the term of economic anxiety - as opposed to economic success. Which is when you see the economy as a ceiling and closing walls that you're racing to get through, not something you could benefit from. Most of my life I've lived in rentals and made sure everything was tied down with a loose knot so we could be ready to go at any point. Making money was for security and near-sighted endeavors. I never saw it as something to chase or approach as unchartered potential. I just decided the folks that did that, the ones in the big houses above mine, are made of different material. They achieved economic success because they have some fortunate last name or they just got there first. When you're forever "the new kid," you just accept the fact someone else will always get there first.

Here's the thing with feeling like you're financially racing and constantly moving from one limiting home to another, is it's tiring. I always thought feeling tired was your body telling you that you can't keep up. Which the irony is I found myself feeling tired the most during periods when I had less going on and in a seemingly secure job. I'm the most alive when I'm taking on a big challenge and making a terrifying leap. Which made me realize that feeling tired is more of a sign that you're trying to fit into a place that doesn't match your potential. Tiredness is your brain's way of telling you this is not worth doing.

So, as I said, the idea of going big has not been easy and feels very clunky for me. I even feel embarrassed about it. The other day, I went to pick up chairs for the studio, and they were not like the picture. I found myself saying I can't get these because "the lady I work for will not accept these" ( *Pssst... I don't have a lady that I work for. I AM that lady). Apparently still playing a side character. My husband has a similar impostor syndrome when it comes to financial and economic worth. He immigrated to the U.S. as a child and wears similar protective gear as "the new kid." That general feeling that most rules and rewards do not apply to us. So we're both making a conscious effort to deprogram this. We've been really big on teaching our daughter the importance of taking risks and seizing opportunities. Reminding her of her worth. Fortunately, we didn't have to work too hard; somehow, she was born with main character energy. Just an unapologetically big, demanding, and loving energy. I am constantly taking notes, when I'm not apologizing for her since she's certainly not going to, I'm taking notes.

Noemie uses a word that I've adopted and has served as a motto while I'm in soldier mode. It's an accidental verb; she says "actiot-ly" instead of "actually." I'm very slow to correct it, seeing it's one of the last of the "Noemie-isms" from unfiltered baby girl days. Holding onto the last bits of evidence of those precious early years. I also just love the word. "Actiot-ly" takes a word that is usually a moment of correction or revelation and puts it into action. It takes the slowing down to reroute and takes the hesitancy out of it. So during times of doubt and when imposter syndrome flares up, I give "the new kid" in me pep talks. The kid that hid behind main characters, lived in shells that were too small, taught small, assumed the perks in life were for other people, and never got to see her full story arc. I tell that girl that she has a perspective. She understands a wide gradient of people's needs and movement. She has compassion and that's more powerful than the need to compete. That this needs to be shared in a BIG way. That "ACTIOTLY," I am making those big moves and I AM that lady I work for.

*Pssst...if I ever complain to you about the lady I work for, take my hand and gently explain to me that I am that lady.

This week in the studio is all about strethening our limbs and growing our wings (crab wings...just go with it) to get us ready make a big move into our bigger home. It's our final two weeks in the Fremont space space building. So many laughs and movements and memories were made in that pretty shell. I hope I get to see you in our final weeks there and looking forward to continuing the fun, creating new memories in the new space - right down the street on the Fremont Canal. More info on the new location and amazing membership offers can be found here. To keep our momentum going, I am offering a big discounted class pack in the new studio - called FIRST CRUSH. You get the first 20 classes for $700, which equals to a $100 discount. It's available for purchase until June 1st. 

THANK YOU ALL for your support during this big scary move and big transition. You inspire me daily, when things get tough I can feel you root me on, and this grateful crab literally could not do this without you. Also thank you to Celia at Imperfetta, my new neighbor and crab friend that waited beside her old shell so that she could pass it along to me. Go get a shorty pour and see her amazing space next door.

Excited to make your bodies sweat, smile, and be the main character in your story

XO,

Celeste

What did the mermaid tell her mermaid friend, Sheila, who wanted to start a seashell business?

~ "Just don't sell them on the seashore. Trust me on this, it'll be a whole thing."