I quit

The more I climbed in the world’s eyes

The more my soul appeared to die…

*

At the pinnacle of success I was perched high

Yet part of me longed to bid goodbye

To this peak below which shaky was the ground

Ambivalent I felt about wearing the crown

The top, you know, is a place best defined

By never-ending stress on the mind…

*

I reached this height serendipitously 

The ascent too occurred precipitously

Leaving me without any time to acclimatize

I had become a celebrity long before I realized..

My story is Cinderella-esque, yet I complain

For fairy tales their fair share of woes contain

What began as an afternoon project one day

To flex my creative muscles in an unusual way

Over the next few months, became an obsession

I rushed home from work to “work” on my creations

Showcased them in a local exhibition at a friend’s request

Where, in a dream-come-true fashion, they piqued the interest

Of an entrepreneur, leading promptly to a collaboration

That became wildly successful, beyond imagination..

*

As business grew, multiple responsibilities I assumed

Worked hard to keep up with demands, as business bloomed

Of course I was happy my work had received such admiration

Yet stress coursed through my veins more often than exhilaration..

*

As my brand became international, busier I grew

Travel, TED talks, events were thrown into the milieu

I still had signature designs, but assisting me

Were other talented designers working for my company

*

My brand value climbed, my satisfaction plummeted

Despite tasting success, sometimes I regretted

That initial exposure that had catapulted me

Into the realm of business from my shell of creativity

I had soared higher, above my friends, leaving me

Excluded from their sphere, and lonely

The high that I used to get after a creative endeavor

Ebbed away- to the whims of the market I had to now cater

As a young female entrepreneur, I gained acclaim

Yet I did not gain happiness along with fame

*

Deeply depressed, seeing therapists, taking medications

Trying mindfulness, tai-chi, yoga, meditation-

One day I felt I could not take it any longer

Call me weak, but accepting defeat made me feel stronger

Before the inevitable decline began, I had decided to quit

In the world of business, I had never quite fit

So I sold my company and took a break extended

The broken parts of my soul I mended

*

My creative energy I now spend

On my own terms, I no longer bend

To the pressures of the market, my wares I sell

In local stores, supporting small businesses as well

The brand I created is still profitable

But removed from it, I am more comfortable

*

At the end of the day an artist am I-

Business definitely is not where my talents lie

I realized this in time, before depression

Could cause irrevocable harm to my person. 

4 thoughts on “I quit

  1. Wow. Could so relate to this poem. Am sure it would have been difficult to put it out there but am so glad you did. I feel your inner turmoils. Success demands your soul for sure. I am so glad you were true to yourself. 🙂 Happy for you:)
    I went through something similar. I wrote about it here- not as elaborate as you did, but this itself was so difficult. : https://ashwinis-perceptions.blogspot.com/2018/05/looking-back-atoz-challenge-reflections.html
    Do consider a blog-hop like ‘A2Z’. I have a feeling your writing will be a hit. 🙂
    Your poem about your MIL on Women’s Web brought me to your blog. That was awesome as well.4

    I also enjoy expressing my thoughts in the form of poetry:
    https://ashwinis-perceptions.blogspot.com/2018/04/visage.html
    https://ashwinis-perceptions.blogspot.com/2018/04/one-for-all-and-all-for-one-feminists.html
    Do visit my blog and share your thoughts.

    Like

    1. Hi Ashwini,
      Thank you so much for your encouraging comments.
      I love your blog- trying to read through as many of your posts as possible.
      As a disclaimer, these poems are usually not about me. I never had a business, and this blog is the only creative outlet I have. I was actually thinking of Kate Spade but I never end my poems negatively.
      Similarly, the mother-in-law poem is also fictional…

      Like

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