I didn't think it was going to work.
I thought like with everything else I signed up for, I'd waste my money, my parent's money, and get nowhere. Despite all that, one year ago I hired my business coach, Jo-Ná Williams.
I do well with structured guidance. AA had worked for me in the past. Signing up for workout bootcamps and classes had worked for me. I loved the feeling of being a part of a team.
There's still a part of me that feels less-than for not knowing all the answers. I hate admitting it.
I first heard about Jo-Ná at Off The Charts, a conference for entrepreneurs. The night before I'd been out on a date and relapsed. I was too embarrassed to tell the guy I'd been sober for a week so I drank. All I had was two drinks. Then I stopped at the gas station on the way home and picked up a bunch of junk food, went home, drank more and threw up. I was up until 3am and then woke up three hours later to volunteer at the conference feeling like death.
I didn't really know how to slow down. I knew I needed a break from touring but I was afraid if I did I would become totally irrelevant.
Before our first phone call, Jo-Ná and I had never met. She knew nothing about me. I totally expected her to feed me some sort of BS Social Marketing Campaign that promised to propel my career, like all the others. Instead, she called me out on my bullshit. She intuitively knew I was struggling with an eating disorder, drinking, and barely writing. NOBODY knew about those things.
I was shocked. I signed up to work with her because I was desperate. Nothing else was working. I was taking all the steps that seemed right: booking all the right venues, spending thousands on publicists, getting all the right press. But I was so unhappy.
I thought I was such a good performer, but I was still playing in half-empty bars.
So we met. From the first day, Jo-Ná saw something in me that I refused to see for myself.
It was too scary to believe I could really, really achieve. I knew what it took to play a restaurant gig or prepare for a show at Rockwood Music Hall. Build a career towards the Grammy's or Radio City Music Hall? THAT seemed way out of my realm of possibility. There was a little seedling of a voice inside of me that knew I was capable of all those things. In truth, I believed there was a glass ceiling on how far my career could go. Jo-Ná showed up with a hammer, ready to break through all those beliefs.
Then we began our work, beginning with my story and my mission as an artist. We discovered my innate belief that I was put on this planet to make music, perform, and share my stories. That every woman has the right to live a life she loves.
I began the process of opening up. That’s when I wrote an honest, open letter to you about where I was in my life.
Telling you I was taking a break from the road, and sharing my stories instead. Every time I wrote a new email I felt like I wanted to throw my phone out the window and hide. Writing about my dad, being rejected from CMJ, getting sober…but the responses came back, each time. More powerful than the last.
We did a complete rebrand: made-over my website, photos, and promo materials, all based on the message I wanted to put out into the world. It took MONTHS of working from inside out; writing and rewriting my story, experimenting with the newsletter and planning for the photoshoot.
The website hit a bajillion delays, and each time I freaked out and wanted to give up - Jo-Ná lovingly, but firmly, pushed me through it. Then came the REALLY uncomfortable shit.
Jo-Ná had me look at all of my finances for the first time, and we worked on adjusting my mindset from that of a starving artist to CEO entrepreneur: as someone who has something of value to offer the world. I started canceling all my restaurant gigs and politely declining the shows that would only deter my focus on creating the best art I could. Each week I started on my assignments and worked on my stories. And each week, the voice telling me I COULD got a little bit louder. It was strengthened each day I didn’t drink.
Every promise I kept to myself was a tiny victory.
I still struggle with self-sabotage, with not getting emails back in time or scheduling rehearsals with enough notice, but I'm getting better. That's just part of the human condition.
The difference is now I believe I can get there, and that it's a process - a marathon on not a race. I have the bigger picture in my mind and that keeps me motivated. That bigger picture comes from a place of love. I know I'm worth it. I’m clear on my message now and I do believe I have something very worthwhile to say - that I can help women and inspire artists to live a life of joy, passion and inspiration. That it's our birthright to be abundant. That we create our own reality. We’re worth it because we exist. It's crazy, all the resistance. I’m realizing now that up until recently I didn’t actually trust Jo-Ná; I was constantly suspicious of her motivations.
Turns out, I just didn’t trust myself. Everything we project onto other people is a reflection of ourselves. I thought she wouldn’t be good, or genuine, that she might be one of the crooks in the industry out to make a buck off of independent artists. I didn’t trust my judgment or my ability to follow through. I feel differently now. I've proven to myself that I do follow through, and I will. And all the sudden, I'm more open hearted with Jo-Ná.
I see her as a person, I want to support her, and aid her in supporting me. You can waste all your energy trying to make other people “wrong” or questioning their motivations - but the second you stop and just see them - let down the walls and let them in - it’s just so much easier. My gut instinct told me to go with her, that it was the right decision. I was afraid to believe I needed the help, and that it somehow made me less of a musician.
I didn’t trust myself to hire Jo-Ná and actually do the work. I thought I’d waste it. In the end, the only person standing in my way was me.
I needed her to show me that. Maybe it's like I needed her to hold up the mirror and see who I really am, not this image of the musician who has it all together or the made-up story about the girl who never gets shit done and will never be good enough. You know what amazes me? That everything has worked out. EVERYTHING. Each project we've taken on has turned into something beautiful. The website and brand launch, the photoshoot I thought I'd totally botch (and avoided scheduling forever), the live streamed shows… We're really just getting started. I'm just starting to shine. For the first time I really feel like myself. I love who I am and who I'm becoming. I'm capable of so much more than I ever imagined. Jo-Ná sees something bigger in me that I may not see yet. But I know it's there. I've gotten here because I asked for help.
Together, we’ve gone through my old stories. I've fucked up. I've missed so many deadlines and given her a million reasons why I couldn't do what she told me to. But I haven't given up.
She keeps loving me through it, and so will I. You think it's going to be a straight shot up, but the road is so much more convoluted. You have to learn and relearn some lessons a million times over.
That’s the joy in it. You never stop learning.
I thought like with everything else I signed up for, I'd waste my money, my parent's money, and get nowhere. Despite all that, one year ago I hired my business coach, Jo-Ná Williams.
I do well with structured guidance. AA had worked for me in the past. Signing up for workout bootcamps and classes had worked for me. I loved the feeling of being a part of a team.
There's still a part of me that feels less-than for not knowing all the answers. I hate admitting it.
I first heard about Jo-Ná at Off The Charts, a conference for entrepreneurs. The night before I'd been out on a date and relapsed. I was too embarrassed to tell the guy I'd been sober for a week so I drank. All I had was two drinks. Then I stopped at the gas station on the way home and picked up a bunch of junk food, went home, drank more and threw up. I was up until 3am and then woke up three hours later to volunteer at the conference feeling like death.
I didn't really know how to slow down. I knew I needed a break from touring but I was afraid if I did I would become totally irrelevant.
Before our first phone call, Jo-Ná and I had never met. She knew nothing about me. I totally expected her to feed me some sort of BS Social Marketing Campaign that promised to propel my career, like all the others. Instead, she called me out on my bullshit. She intuitively knew I was struggling with an eating disorder, drinking, and barely writing. NOBODY knew about those things.
I was shocked. I signed up to work with her because I was desperate. Nothing else was working. I was taking all the steps that seemed right: booking all the right venues, spending thousands on publicists, getting all the right press. But I was so unhappy.
I thought I was such a good performer, but I was still playing in half-empty bars.
So we met. From the first day, Jo-Ná saw something in me that I refused to see for myself.
It was too scary to believe I could really, really achieve. I knew what it took to play a restaurant gig or prepare for a show at Rockwood Music Hall. Build a career towards the Grammy's or Radio City Music Hall? THAT seemed way out of my realm of possibility. There was a little seedling of a voice inside of me that knew I was capable of all those things. In truth, I believed there was a glass ceiling on how far my career could go. Jo-Ná showed up with a hammer, ready to break through all those beliefs.
Then we began our work, beginning with my story and my mission as an artist. We discovered my innate belief that I was put on this planet to make music, perform, and share my stories. That every woman has the right to live a life she loves.
I began the process of opening up. That’s when I wrote an honest, open letter to you about where I was in my life.
Telling you I was taking a break from the road, and sharing my stories instead. Every time I wrote a new email I felt like I wanted to throw my phone out the window and hide. Writing about my dad, being rejected from CMJ, getting sober…but the responses came back, each time. More powerful than the last.
We did a complete rebrand: made-over my website, photos, and promo materials, all based on the message I wanted to put out into the world. It took MONTHS of working from inside out; writing and rewriting my story, experimenting with the newsletter and planning for the photoshoot.
The website hit a bajillion delays, and each time I freaked out and wanted to give up - Jo-Ná lovingly, but firmly, pushed me through it. Then came the REALLY uncomfortable shit.
Jo-Ná had me look at all of my finances for the first time, and we worked on adjusting my mindset from that of a starving artist to CEO entrepreneur: as someone who has something of value to offer the world. I started canceling all my restaurant gigs and politely declining the shows that would only deter my focus on creating the best art I could. Each week I started on my assignments and worked on my stories. And each week, the voice telling me I COULD got a little bit louder. It was strengthened each day I didn’t drink.
Every promise I kept to myself was a tiny victory.
I still struggle with self-sabotage, with not getting emails back in time or scheduling rehearsals with enough notice, but I'm getting better. That's just part of the human condition.
The difference is now I believe I can get there, and that it's a process - a marathon on not a race. I have the bigger picture in my mind and that keeps me motivated. That bigger picture comes from a place of love. I know I'm worth it. I’m clear on my message now and I do believe I have something very worthwhile to say - that I can help women and inspire artists to live a life of joy, passion and inspiration. That it's our birthright to be abundant. That we create our own reality. We’re worth it because we exist. It's crazy, all the resistance. I’m realizing now that up until recently I didn’t actually trust Jo-Ná; I was constantly suspicious of her motivations.
Turns out, I just didn’t trust myself. Everything we project onto other people is a reflection of ourselves. I thought she wouldn’t be good, or genuine, that she might be one of the crooks in the industry out to make a buck off of independent artists. I didn’t trust my judgment or my ability to follow through. I feel differently now. I've proven to myself that I do follow through, and I will. And all the sudden, I'm more open hearted with Jo-Ná.
I see her as a person, I want to support her, and aid her in supporting me. You can waste all your energy trying to make other people “wrong” or questioning their motivations - but the second you stop and just see them - let down the walls and let them in - it’s just so much easier. My gut instinct told me to go with her, that it was the right decision. I was afraid to believe I needed the help, and that it somehow made me less of a musician.
I didn’t trust myself to hire Jo-Ná and actually do the work. I thought I’d waste it. In the end, the only person standing in my way was me.
I needed her to show me that. Maybe it's like I needed her to hold up the mirror and see who I really am, not this image of the musician who has it all together or the made-up story about the girl who never gets shit done and will never be good enough. You know what amazes me? That everything has worked out. EVERYTHING. Each project we've taken on has turned into something beautiful. The website and brand launch, the photoshoot I thought I'd totally botch (and avoided scheduling forever), the live streamed shows… We're really just getting started. I'm just starting to shine. For the first time I really feel like myself. I love who I am and who I'm becoming. I'm capable of so much more than I ever imagined. Jo-Ná sees something bigger in me that I may not see yet. But I know it's there. I've gotten here because I asked for help.
Together, we’ve gone through my old stories. I've fucked up. I've missed so many deadlines and given her a million reasons why I couldn't do what she told me to. But I haven't given up.
She keeps loving me through it, and so will I. You think it's going to be a straight shot up, but the road is so much more convoluted. You have to learn and relearn some lessons a million times over.
That’s the joy in it. You never stop learning.