The moment I realised that I'm not sure I can do this…

Do you ever wonder how you got here?

I've recently been going over how I started out in this industry as part of some exciting opportunities that are happening over the next few weeks and everyone I'm speaking to are incredibly impressed.

As you know, I started out as a photographer who was happy to shoot a show in exchange for a ticket. That attitude to the job meant I could access many gigs that most would dream of being in. I worked with artists who I wanted to work with and at that time I couldn't afford to pay for a ticket so it was a win win situation.

From there it quickly turned into a full time job, shooting gigs, festivals and tour posters. That developed into working with the press. I'd promote the people I was working withy talking to journalists I knew in their sectors. Before I knew it, clients were hiring me for that and I started running my own PR agency.

The early days of my career?was a bit of a whirlwind.

Whilst I've been going over my career, the moment of reflection reminded me that during the early days I wasn't all that confident.

I remembered the first ever big festival I went to, I went alone which is something I'd never do now.

I drove into the carpark, to be greeted by a difficult car park attendant who just didn't understand that my passes were in the box office which was around half a mile away from him up a muddy hill. The only thing I had was a confirmation email. He stood fast and refused to accept he was wrong.?

He was aggressive, I can only assume that was because he'd been stationed in the carpark, instead of front of house. So at the height of my anxiety, I realised I had two choices. Either turn around and email my apology when I got home, or simply drive past him and go up the hill to the box office.?

?Whilst he continued to be unnecessarily aggressive and intimidating, something inside of me snapped and I said “thanks so much for your help” and drove past him, up the hill.?

As I walked into backstage, after lugging my heavy case up the hill past festival goers, I was met by the press area manager who asked if I drove off on the car park guy.?

Now at this point I was close to tears. The ordeal had been incredibly stressful and all I wanted to do was my job. I didn't want to be a problem. In every gig I'd worked at I was expected and welcomed by the team, no matter what the size of the venue. But this felt different. I was on my own and had been met with aggression from the car park guy, was I able to go through it a second time?

I explained what had happened. My voice was shaky. I suddenly realised ?was surrounded by men in this press area and I swear I'd come on my period half way across the field. All I wanted was to get my pass and a space to set up my laptop so I could get on with my job.

It was in that moment I realised I'm not cut out for this

I vividly remember that movement, I stood there for what felt like an age thinking “I can't do this. He knows it too. I should have just gone home”.

I've always been good at that. I'm my own worst critic. I come from a background where everyone I grew up with has a ‘proper job’. They're employed, paying their bills with a stable income, which is someone higher up's job to worry about how that actually happens.?

But that background sticks with me. I have always wondered if I should have got a ‘proper job’. Despite knowing I'm not built that way and I would have been eternally miserable in a ‘proper job’. So because of that, I'm hard wired to prove a point by achieving great things and not stopping to celebrate them.?

I think he saw that in me. He knew it was my first time at that particular festival and given how upset I was, though I was trying not to show it, I think he could tell that I was knew to the world of festival life.

After what felt like forever, he let out a big laugh. He said "good for you, you'll fit right in here". I was handed my passes and in that moment, the huge weight on my shoulders lifted right off me.?

The thing is, no one starts off feeling comfortable in their role. Wether it's in a festival field or dealing with tough questions from a journalist, this feeling of not belonging is something I've learned to live with.?

I don't think I'll ever shake off the idea that I should have a proper job, but one thing I do more of these days, is celebrate what I've achieved.?

So whether you have a proper job, or you're out there making it on your own, take a minute right now to celebrate how you got to where you are. Allow yourself to be proud of your achievements.?

Speak soon

Carla