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I’m waiting for another door.

All my life, I’ve been told that when God closes one door, He opens another.

And here I am, staring at the imminent end of the business I’ve built from nothing.

Closing down what I started up from sheer willpower, too much caffeine, and the bold determination to work for myself.

Scratching out what I made from scratch . . . and it feels horrible.

God didn’t just close this door.

He slammed it shut, boarded the whole thing up, and hammered the nails in where I cannot pry them open.

Believe me. I’ve tried.

So I’m waiting.

Waiting for another door to open.

Waiting for my sign.

Waiting for my big break.

Waiting on the brightly painted door surrounded by neon flashing lights to point me in the right direction—where to go next.

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To be honest, at this point I would settle for a tiny window and a dimly lit candle.

How do you even begin to know where to go from here?

Do I work for someone else?

Do I build another business?

Do I *pivot* like the internet’s new favorite word? (Cringe.)

What does starting over look like, yet again?

Right now, it looks like a lot of coffee.

A lot of internet research (read: scrolling).

A lot of dishes piled up.

A lot of laundry . . . also piled up.

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It looks and feels like being stuck.

Being unsure.

Being uncertain.

But also . . .

Being patient.

Being gracious.

Being compassionate with myself.

It’s what I would do for anyone else, isn’t it?

My best friend, my husband, and my son get all the grace, the patience, and the compassion I have to offer, so why shouldn’t I give that to myself?

I talk to myself like I would to someone I love.

I sit with the discomfort and a cinnamon muffin, tossing ideas around, brainstorming with myself.

I leave room for creativity and empathy. There’s plenty of space in my stretchy pants and plenty of time in my wide-open schedule.

I deeply grieve the loss of my business, missing what my work life was and all it could have been.

Five long years of investing time, energy, learning, growing, networking, building up something fantastic together.

We were just getting started, my business and me. It felt like it had been a lifetime, and it felt like no time at all. And now I’ve blinked and it’s gone.

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I am grateful there is no time limit on mourning.

No rules about how sad you’re allowed to be or for how long.

No maximum number of Gilmore Girls episodes you can rewatch while you numb your senses and recover from your loss.

No calorie count on comfort food and carbs. At least, I stopped counting.

So here I am, in the waiting time, slightly lost in my self-pity and self-doubt, knocking on closed doors and begging for another chance at success.

And who walks in?

A friend needing advice about her job.

Wanting to start her own business, too.

Seeking help from someone who has been there, seen that, done it, and got the t-shirt.

And you know who she asked?

She. Asked. Me.

I can mentor, I can give advice, I can help her out.

Yes, even in my waiting.

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Yes, even in my stretchy pants.

Yes, even in my muddled mastery of how I had a good thing going and now I don’t.

You see, it’s not actually about me at all.

And that’s when I realized what I’m meant to do in the in-between time.

I can hold the door for someone else.

Kimberly Phyfe

Kimberly Phyfe is an adorably extroverted business owner living in Long Island, New York. She eats too much chocolate, reads like every day is the book fair, and is Mama Bear to a beautiful special needs child.

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