Erika Ettin: Playing with strings

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. He asked what kind of people I work with, how I liked my job, and how I got into it. Most importantly, he asked me 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, very shy. In pre-school, the teacher pulled my mom aside 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!

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. I decided to study economics. 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. But, when there's one major to choose, you make a choice. And the left won out. The fire on the right side had yet to be stoked.

I continued on the road left traveled through college graduation, my first (and consequently last) corporate job in finance, and business school. 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 juicy center 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.

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, 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 with the podcaster. 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 years, I can watch that client learn, grow, and prosper. 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 impact on their lives. I'm meddling in a way I didn't think was even possible. Does that make me a voyeur? Maybe. A do-gooder? I hope so. A puppet-master? No idea.

What I didn't bargain for, though, is the emotional baggage that would be piled on 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 sometimes a scapegoat.

I have learned so much about people in my eight-plus years of running my business. Some good, some not so good. I see people at their lowest and at their highest. I get texts telling me that a date had lied. I get emails telling me that a date lasted over six hours. I hear the elation, and I hear the self-doubt. And I rarely, until now when explicitly asked, 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 and 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.