Dear Diary lll

Am I a Baddie Boss or a Cautionary Tale?

I was in the car with my brother, his kids, and my kiddo, talking about what everyone wanted to be when they grew up. My niece said she wanted to be a vet. I asked what part of being a vet appealed to her. She said: spending time with dogs, and money.

So I told her about a guy in New York who makes millions as a dog walker. He takes the dogs upstate, AirTags on every one of them, charges $150 USD per dog, and takes ten to twenty at a time, a couple of times a day. I also told her about a mentor of mine who opened a cattery and is about to open a second one. In Australia, people pay around $150 AUD a night to board their dogs and cats. Her job could be spending time with healthy cats and dogs instead of sick ones, and her income could scale instead of being capped.

My brother pushed back. He said if you work hard at school, you get a good job. You’ll probably hate it, but it’ll pay for you to do the things you love. That’s how you get to have all the dogs.

I said: hang on, you can actually love your job.

Because here’s my actual life. On paper, it isn’t where it should be. I don’t own a house. I worry about when I can ever retire, and I am chasing a liveable wage as a self-employed writer.

I’ve turned my degree into four pivots: private practice, a brick-and-mortar store, an author of aphorisms, and now a cookbook writer. Every pivot for the same reason: how can I help more people doing what I love?

Last night, when I couldn’t sleep, I ran the maths. How many books do I need to sell a day to afford rent in Melbourne, contribute to my super, and still save for a mortgage?

The answer: three times what I’m selling now.

On paper, my brother’s choices are better than mine. He’s turned his law degree into a steady job, steady pay that grows as his career progresses. I’m not naive about that math. But I’ve spent my whole life choosing the mission over the margin.

Then last week I walked into school and my kiddo’s mates turned to each other. Apparently, I’m a Baddie now. Which in preteen means: boss. And is the ultimate accolade you can get as a parent.

So which is it? Am I a cautionary tale, or a baddie boss?

I’m in my mid-forties and I still feel like this is TBC.

I’m not choosing between helping people and building a life.

I’m betting I can build the life by helping more people than I ever have before.

That’s the bet.

That’s the next book.

Making a living as an author is a one-in-a-million kind of dream.

But the way I see it, it’s the only circle left on the Ikigai for me to colour.

And it’s already taking shape.

Let’s show those kiddos work can be something you love.

That’s the next book. That’s the next chapter.

I can taste it. And she’s delicious.

X Catie