This, as the cliche goes, is the first day of the rest of my life.
Six years ago I bade farewell to the pressurised world of Social Housing and escaped to the Isle of Wight – where I hoped to make a living out of the things I loved doing – writing; making paper and papier-mache; selling my husband’s amazing artwork.
Little did Martin and I realise how strong our work ethic was, how hard it would be to give up regular salaries and how long it would take us to modernise the dilapidated turn-of-the century cottage we fell in love with. Nor could we have predicted that plummeting interest rates would scythe the income we’d hoped to earn from our modest investments.
Part-time cleaning jobs filled the gap for a while – but ate into our life hours and creative energy. I trained in Indian Head Massage but lacked the confidence to promote my skill. Martin had some success, but not enough sales to support us. Finally, a week ago we decided that exchanging our physical labour for little financial reward and even less respect was leaving us with no self-respect.
Today all ‘hope’ of making a living from the things I love doing is gone. From now on I’m planning to become a published writer; sell my craft work and Martin’s art and expand my alternative therapy business to provide a decent income.
We still can’t quite bring ourselves to ‘let go’ completely and will hang on to one cleaning job (term -time in a school, with all the holidays off!) But, by publishing this on-line, I’m proving my commitment to creating a life that I have dreamed of living for so long. Wish me luck!