It’s happening. I am officially on my own. I am opening a private practice. And even as a seasoned professional with over seven and a half years of private practice experience, and before that, nine years in academia as a clinician, clinical researcher and educator, heading out on my own isn’t any less daunting. It’s been dialectical: I have been experiencing so many opposing overwhelming emotions at once, from excitement to fear to grief. So, what got me to this point of founding my private practice? The experience to know that I have made many big decisions before; the pacing where I told myself that I will get done within a timeframe that I can manage, because I don’t have to rush at this point in my life; circumstances lining up that gave me a sampling of the confidence that told me that I can do it, and the resolve that, it’s just time; time for me to own me, all of me, my conceptualization of who I am, and my brand.

I have often said that as a Black woman, who grew up poor, in an all-White small town as one of few Black children in the entire town, while my mother was in college, you don’t get through a doctoral program and academia because of powering through it, or because someone handed you anything (even when they believe they did). I have lived much of my life in survival mode, and so making stuff happen, especially out of need, for me and many who grew up like me is second nature. That conditioned response kicks in quick, when I am in a space where I need to think quick and figure things out in order to eat, keep my family housed, and just make do. As I fear, I do. Meaning, I take whatever steps i can toward what it is I need to do. This includes thinking about, researching, and talking to others about how to make these things happen. I also hold space for my fear, fall down into it, grieve and don’t shy away from it. I remind myself while there, to stay basic to preserve my energy. For example, during times like this, I feed myself and my family completely and efficiently (e.g., prepare relatively low effort, quick-ish, simple and hearty meals, like air-fryer baked potatoes w/ pre-cooked salmon, and avocado/grape tomato salad). We order pizza for dinner one night a week, which is dinner for two nights. I talk myself into when I am going to run again (to help with my mood and sense of health) and make sure it is short (10-20 minutes).

When i am most scared, I gauge my timeline early. How long do I have before I HAVE to make this decision? And are there ways that I can find more time, if I am in a pinch? At this point in my life, I have been fortunate to not be in a pinch. So, for opening a private practice, and as motivation, I set my timeline for a few months out to see my first patient. But I gave myself permission to revisit a new date as I learned new information and needed things to change.

This pandemic has turned me inside out. And like other arduous experiences, I used what little energy I have had at times, to help get me to start a private practice, especially after learning of the bravery of a couple of my colleagues. Their modeling of making this decision, groundwork for how to do it, and continued strong encouragement has been invaluable. Pre-pandemic I had already been completing much of the administrative work, including billing. So when the pandemic forced me home, with two young kiddos needing schooling etc., I had all the evidence right in front of me, that I could do this. I was already on my own. I hadn’t seen my colleagues in over two years. With lots of cheerleading and reviewing of my work and ideas from dear friends and family, I started planning to make the transition.

Now, I needed to do this. Being on my own would mean more hope and possibility that I could afford to live with lesser financial worries, given that I am not paying a percent of my salary to a group practice. My kids, still young, had in two years of the pandemic aged to be independent enough that I have more energy. The eight-year-old has been making her own lunches since she was six, for example (the four-year-old on the other hand, well, mama is working on his strong disdain for cleaning up anything. Lol).

And finally, my mom passing away less than a year ago, gave me even more resolve as I thought critically about how to set up a scholarship fund in her memory. I have needed a way to channel this grief. Starting a practice has helped with this, even as it comes with its own grief. As I have moved forward, I have been able to gain clarity on what has made this both painful and beautiful. The pain: Going out on my own, leaving the current group practice that helped me land safely after a traumatic departure from academia, with a boss that mostly let me “be,” and helped me during other dark times (e.g., following birth of my second child); Living on the other side of the country, away from where I am from; and with no mom anymore. All of this really highlights the feelings of being existentially alone. Thank you, family for helping me to see this. The beauty: I get to be all the way me, for me, for my babies, for my family, for little girl Ronnesia, for young woman Ronnesia, for pre-baby competitive runner Ronnesia, for artist Ronnesia, for activist/humanist Ronnesia and for the people for which my work sustains them and helps them get through.

Overall, I feel thankful and fortunate that I have arrived in this place where I have started a private practice. And being able to walk myself through how I got here (experiences, timing, grief, and lots of solicited supports) helps calm me when I feel existentially emotional (like when I broke the news to my boss, who was so sweet and reassuring.) I am pinching myself. How about you? How do you make big decisions? What big decisions are you sitting on that have you stuck? Do you know?