Life is weird. There's no denying that. And exciting. And scary at times. And surprising. Sometimes it's most surprising.
I was being interviewed earlier this evening for someone's podcast. I take that back ... someone's idea of a podcast. But, he had seen me speak about my work on a panel last year, so I was flattered that he asked. He asked what kind of people I work with. How I liked my job. How I got into it. And how it makes me feel about myself. While I live this life every day, in my clothes, with my dog, writing on the very laptop where I'm writing this piece, I had to take a step back and really think about it. And I feel amazing. And vulnerable. And burdened. And proud.
When I was little, I didn't talk. I mean, I knew how to talk, but I chose not to. I was shy. Very shy. In pre-school, the teacher at St. Bartholomew's (yes, this nice Jewish girl from New Jersey went to a church for pre-school ... and Christ did I get a good education) pulled my mom out in the hallway and asked her, "When did Erika learn to talk?" In first grade, as all the kids were singing Getting to Know You on stage, and I was placed front and center because I was _ and still am _ short, I kept my lips sealed and didn't sway back and forth with the rest of the class. Was I destined for great things? Who cares? My grandparents just wanted me to say hi to them when they came to visit (which they were not shy about sharing with my parents, who always had my back for being shy).
I perked up around high school. Maybe it was theater. Or tennis. Or just coming into myself. But, by the time I got to college, I was still finding my way, in both personality and appearance. My randomly assigned academic advisor, Professor Cardin in the Russian Literature department (since I had no idea what I wanted to study), commented on my appearance between freshman and sophomore year: "Someone had a makeover!" I didn't. I was just wearing my new Delia's silver eyeliner, but she took notice.
As I came into my own, I decided to study economics. It's interesting _ I've always had a battle between the left, analytical, math and spreadsheet-loving side of my brain and the right, creative, artistic, singing, writing side of my brain. But, when there's one major to choose, you have to make a choice. And the left won. The fire on the right side had yet to be stoked.
I continued on the road left traveled through college graduation, my first _ and only corporate _ job at Fannie Mae, and business school into the wee hours of the evening, after a long day of work. While I had found the voice I wasn't able to produce all those years before, I hadn't fully released. I was scared. Of what, I didn't know.
Fast forward to today. I know I'm skipping the whole, interesting middle section where I discovered my passions, quit my job, and tried a greener pasture. But, I don't want to talk about that process. I want to talk about what I do now. Today. With people.
I'm a dating coach. What does that mean? I run a business helping people with online dating. And while that's rewarding in itself, of course, the most rewarding part to me is the coaching. Helping people get over, or through, or under their dating hurdles is what I do. And I love it. I leaned into my right-brained self, and I liked what I found.
But I found more than I bargained for, and that's what I was thinking about today when the "podcaster" asked me those questions. Is my job rewarding? Of course. When I work with someone who has either never dated or has been out of the game for many, many years, I can sit back and watch that client learn, grow, and prosper.
What I didn't bargain for, though, is the emotional baggage that would be piled on me in the process. I work with people in their most vulnerable state _ being single and not wanting to be _ so I often find myself taking on the role of a therapist, a confidante, and often a scapegoat. I'm meddling in people's lives in a way I didn't think was even possible. And I love it. Does that make me a voyeur? Maybe. Am I also a do-gooder? Probably. A puppet-master? Kind of.
Do you ever have visions of who would show up at your funeral? I don't either. But, for some reason, I did the other day. I'm not the morbid type at all, so it surprised me. But it wasn't like I was thinking about dying. In fact, it was the opposite. I was thinking about all of my clients, some of whom I've never even met face to face, sharing how I somehow played a role in their lives. Maybe I wrote their OkCupid profile. Or maybe I took their new photos. Or maybe I gave such a small piece of advice, or even a mere suggestion, of changing a nail polish color or getting a haircut, and it had some notable impact on their lives. That's what I do.
I have learned so much about people in my seven-plus years of running my business. Some good, some not so good. Some I didn't want to know. And some I am so glad I do. I see people at their lowest. I see people at their highest. I get texts telling me that a date had lied. I get emails telling me that a date lasted over 24 hours. I hear the elation. And I hear the self-doubt. I hear it all. And I never take a step back to think about the impact I'm having. Me. The kid who refused to perform in the pre-school dance on the black and white tile floor. The kid who peed her pants well into second grade because I was too shy to tell the teacher I needed to go to the bathroom. I'm now the person who steps in. Who gives the advice I couldn't even see before. I went from having such narrow vision on the world to feeling like I'm not only seeing into other people's lives and how they think, but I'm being given a special key. And I hope never to lose it or to give it back.
