As of late, it seems that I only come on here a few times a year, mostly as a space to document my annual naming of years. Some years, the naming propels the whole year, a true definition of the time, a sort of self-fulfilling prophesy. Some years, the name of the year turns into something else entirely or dissolves into fading memory, more like a bad new year's resolution than anything. So here I am again, lining up at the doorstep of year 36, with a name at the ready for the 365 ahead.
Making Room.
This name came to me after a few conversations with a friend about my desire to attend some seminary classes. As a professor in a seminary, I've been feeling lately that I lack a lot of context for the position I'm in. And since I view my professional position as a large part of my God-given calling, I deeply desire to do it well. I concluded, for now at least, that seminary is not my next move, but it prompted lots of questions about my deeper motivations for even considering such a move. At the end of the day, it was all about making room. First, for making room for the Spirit and scripture to speak. It's something I haven't given a lot of thought to in a while. My brain and heart have been clouded with kids and busy and home and work, too loud and frantic for the quiet attentiveness required for spiritual intervention.
After that realization, then came the flood of recognition of all the other areas of life that could greatly benefit from making room. My house could use some more room. Not like an addition, another room per se. But I do need to make some room. I need to make room in my laundry room for folding. I need to make room at my kitchen table for family meals. I need to make room in my closets for tidiness and things that I like to wear. I need to make room for kids to play and for conversations to happen. Room for pizza dinners with friends and surprise guests that drop by. Room for the things and time and experiences that matter within the walls of our home.
Even from just contemplating room in my home, the desire for space goes so much deeper. I need to make room for guests in my home because I want to make room for real and flourishing relationships. I need to make room for kid play because I want to make room in my patience and presence for kids being kids. I want to make room in my closet because I want to make room in my brain for choices that matter far more than a daily outfit.
This year's pursuit of room-making is practical, emotional, mental, and spiritual. These are connected, not separate. As I make practical room in my home, closets, and processes, I will surely naturally make room for the deeper desires, for the attentiveness, peace, and calm required to make more room for God. I'm not saying that one could not happen without the other, but in my life, it makes great sense to forge ahead with connected and related goals in mind.
This birthday, more than some other years, really feels like an awakening of sorts. Our family dynamic has changed so much so quickly, with babies turning into toddlers and toddlers turning into preschoolers. With constant supervision turning into independent play, diapers turning into potty training, and bottles turning into cups. It's a dynamic that I didn't have the imaginative capacity to believe was ahead of us, and yet, here we are. My mental health has gone through a great deal of change in the last year, from a deep denial of postpartum depression and anxiety to an acute awareness of my thought patterns and coping strategies. All of this has happened so quickly that it has caught me off guard. For the first time in over two years, I finally feel like I have the capacity to make some room, to push back against the tidal wave of stuff, clutter, garbage, isolation, expectations, survival...and to explore what happens when I do. Time to make some room.
Monday, October 21, 2019
Monday, December 17, 2018
#YearofNBS: Not what I thought it would be...
The Year of No Bullsh!t is two months in, and like many of my named years, it is not really turning out as I expected. It shouldn't really be that surprising.
The original name of my year was the Year of No Guilt, No Excuses. It was born of an exhaustion of making excuses for why I couldn't get my life together. The kids were too little, I was too tired, the days were too short, money was too tight...
I geared up for my year with much planning and anticipation, working hard to research and focus in on what I really wanted to accomplish. But what I didn't anticipate was that the guilt side of the no-guilt-no-excuses year weighed far heavier than I thought it did. I was making excuses, not as a way to avoid entering into the hard work of making the life I wanted, but as a way to curb all the guilt I felt for not already living the life I wanted.
I dove mightily into the beginning of a year that was to contain physical fitness, practical tidiness, budget mindfulness, meal planning...all the shit that I hadn't been focusing on due to all the excuses that I had been making for the last 18 months. And after a few weeks, I realized that these weren't magical fixes to my hot-mess life. In fact, some of the efforts were making me miserable. I was guilting myself into things instead of actually being motivated to do them, and it was just making things worse.
So I stopped. I stopped working out. I stopped forcing meal planning. I stopped the dream of room-by-room tidiness overhaul. And I started looking at all the guilt. Why do I feel guilty for not working out? Is this expectation practical? Is it possible all of the time? Is it meaningful to me in some way? Right now? No. It's just a thing I said I'd do. But what if... What if I didn't workout AND didn't feel guilty about it? What would that even look like?
It's been a process, friends. A real working out of emotions and priorities. One that I should have maybe started with back in October. But the evaluation is slowing working. I'm recognizing (re-recognizing?) that I am highly motivated by meaning. And if there's no meaning, there's very little motivation, but there's still a whole lot of guilt and shoulda-coulda-woulda's lingering about.
So, with the new calendar year upon us, a time of year I rarely capitalize on for focus, goals, or motivation, I'm contemplating a mulligan to my year. Because in order to truly have a year with neither guilt nor excuses to living the life I want, I need to understand why I might experience guilt and why I might craft excuses first. And that requires a much deeper look at what is truly meaningful to me.
In the end, I think some of the things I started with this year will eventually be back on as priorities, but they will not be obligations to fulfill. They will be meaningful contributions to crafting a meaningful life.
The original name of my year was the Year of No Guilt, No Excuses. It was born of an exhaustion of making excuses for why I couldn't get my life together. The kids were too little, I was too tired, the days were too short, money was too tight...
I geared up for my year with much planning and anticipation, working hard to research and focus in on what I really wanted to accomplish. But what I didn't anticipate was that the guilt side of the no-guilt-no-excuses year weighed far heavier than I thought it did. I was making excuses, not as a way to avoid entering into the hard work of making the life I wanted, but as a way to curb all the guilt I felt for not already living the life I wanted.
I dove mightily into the beginning of a year that was to contain physical fitness, practical tidiness, budget mindfulness, meal planning...all the shit that I hadn't been focusing on due to all the excuses that I had been making for the last 18 months. And after a few weeks, I realized that these weren't magical fixes to my hot-mess life. In fact, some of the efforts were making me miserable. I was guilting myself into things instead of actually being motivated to do them, and it was just making things worse.
So I stopped. I stopped working out. I stopped forcing meal planning. I stopped the dream of room-by-room tidiness overhaul. And I started looking at all the guilt. Why do I feel guilty for not working out? Is this expectation practical? Is it possible all of the time? Is it meaningful to me in some way? Right now? No. It's just a thing I said I'd do. But what if... What if I didn't workout AND didn't feel guilty about it? What would that even look like?
It's been a process, friends. A real working out of emotions and priorities. One that I should have maybe started with back in October. But the evaluation is slowing working. I'm recognizing (re-recognizing?) that I am highly motivated by meaning. And if there's no meaning, there's very little motivation, but there's still a whole lot of guilt and shoulda-coulda-woulda's lingering about.
So, with the new calendar year upon us, a time of year I rarely capitalize on for focus, goals, or motivation, I'm contemplating a mulligan to my year. Because in order to truly have a year with neither guilt nor excuses to living the life I want, I need to understand why I might experience guilt and why I might craft excuses first. And that requires a much deeper look at what is truly meaningful to me.
In the end, I think some of the things I started with this year will eventually be back on as priorities, but they will not be obligations to fulfill. They will be meaningful contributions to crafting a meaningful life.
Wednesday, September 26, 2018
#YearofNBS: Phase One: The Gear Up
Preparations for the Year of No Bullsh!t (NBS) are well underway, people. It's kind of a funny thing to spend so much time to prepare for a life change, but I suppose it's all actually just a part of the change itself. With four weeks to go before the year officially begins, I've at least begun my preparations, and here's what the plan looks like so far.
Healthy Time
One of the first areas I needed to tackle was rearranging some of my time to help better fit in the priorities that I feel are actually important. Healthy time requires me to understand first how my time is spent.
Done:
As I mentioned in my previous post, I'm a total hot-mess-mom that you should never just drop in on because, I promise, I'm not ready. Figuring out how to not be a total domestic failure is a significant priority.
Done:
This is the category that I've spent the least amount of time one, but it might actually be the most critical to our family well being. Overall, I'm happier when there is less thought and choice involved in what we're eating. Plus, as a bonus, we save money and waste less food when we thoughtfully plan our choices.
So that's it. That's my progress so far. I'll check in in another week or so with more progress!
Healthy Time
One of the first areas I needed to tackle was rearranging some of my time to help better fit in the priorities that I feel are actually important. Healthy time requires me to understand first how my time is spent.
Done:
- I put a timer app on my phone called Space, that reminds me when I've spent too much time on my screen or have unlocked it way too many times for the day.
- I'm using a planning tool called Trello to help me organize priorities in general. It's sort of like a multi-layered checklist that I've categorized to include a lot of the areas of my life that need a hand in organizing and thinking about.
- I requested an extra hour a day for my kids at daycare. Instead of trying to pick them up immediately after work at 3:45 pm, I'll aim to pick them up between 4:30 and 4:45.
- I selected an 8 week workout program that offers daily 15 minute workouts. This is an accomplishable amount of time to start with while I am also doing some running and yoga. And it will be fun to try something new.
- I am contemplating removing Facebook from my phone. I waste so much time on it as the thing that I mindlessly do when I don't want to do anything else. But sometimes I end up in rabbit holes that take up way too much time.
- I'm thinking about doing a one-week time study where I record what I do every 15 minutes of the day for all of my waking hours to basically prove to myself that I waste copious amounts of time on stupid crap. Anyone want to join me in trying this challenge?
- I'm pondering the idea of paying someone to wrangle some of my technology messes. I've got some accounts I'd like to consolidate and some issues with my tablet that I don't want to dink with anymore. Sometimes, exchanging time for money is an important and necessary thing.
As I mentioned in my previous post, I'm a total hot-mess-mom that you should never just drop in on because, I promise, I'm not ready. Figuring out how to not be a total domestic failure is a significant priority.
Done:
- Hubs and I tore apart our bedroom recently bagging up clothing and shoes we don't wear to get it out of the house. It's a major contributor to clutter. Instead of trying to be sustainable and donate the items to Goodwill or another entity (a process that usually looks like a garbage bag of clothes on the back porch for 6 months), we just threw.it.away.
- I have been desperately trying to keep up with wiping down the kitchen table and floor. Seems dumb, I know, but of all the things I try to accomplish before I drop for the night, the eating area is my least favorite. So much kid food smeared about. Sometimes habits are only formed by repetition.
- I need to make a longer-term clutter tackling plan to includes some deadlines. It is a perpetual effort that cannot be done once and then ignored. Junk enters our house daily, so it needs to find a way to exit our house daily.
- We continue to cycle out some toys in areas that are filled with too many toys. We're planning to watch how the kids play with the toys and remove the ones that remain untouched.
This is the category that I've spent the least amount of time one, but it might actually be the most critical to our family well being. Overall, I'm happier when there is less thought and choice involved in what we're eating. Plus, as a bonus, we save money and waste less food when we thoughtfully plan our choices.
So that's it. That's my progress so far. I'll check in in another week or so with more progress!
Friday, September 14, 2018
The Year of No-Guilt-No-Excuses
I need to be frank for a few minutes. Because for the last nearly 15 months, I have not really been forthcoming at all. I've been pretty sneaky. Pretty clever. But not really all that honest.
Shortly after the twins were born, I slouched, sank, and eventually spiraled pretty hard into postpartum depression and anxiety. And I worked my ass off to hide it from everyone. And I never got the help that, looking back, I really needed. All a saga for another day.
But now, as we approach the twins turning 15 months, summer quickly fading into shorter, cooler days of fall, I am struggling to shift gears into a healthier, happier version of life that I expected to find by now. Some aspects of life have improved significantly. The mobility and food-freedoms of growing toddlers have alleviated many of the stresses of earlier life all-consumed with nursing/pumping schedules and baby carrying/wearing/strollering options. And sleep, while certainly not perfect, has settled into a mostly viable routine for all of us. So much of life in our current state is so much fun. New skills, words, and daily discoveries are exciting and make my heart smile.
But at this point, I have some desires bubbling up that are remaining largely unfulfilled. Because, let's be honest, it's just damn hard! All of it. Working, parenting, living...it's just hard. But there's got to be alternatives to my current situation which looks like morning-rush-no-lunch-evening-rush-bedtime-routine-facebook-zombie-do-it-all-again-tomorrow, sprinkled with hefty amounts of never-finished-laundry-sticky-surfaces-and-pee-or-diapers-everywhere.
So alternatives. I've considered them all. And I mostly greet them with excuses. I'll speak on my desire to workout first. Alternative: workout over lunch. Excuse: I don't usually take lunch so I can get home earlier to be with the kids, a chaotic exercise in survival until bedtime. Alternative: keep kids in school for an extra hour a day to workout after work. Excuse: mom guilt piles on big time because I do really want to see my kids during their waking hours, even if it's not always fun. And let's talk about meal and grocery planning. Because our current method of pantry scrambling and fast food aren't exactly always delicious or nutritious. Alternative: spend one hour a week making a plan, a list, and running to the store. Excuse: Okay, but like when? (Ya'll did see my facebook-zombie mention earlier, right? Clearly not every moment of my life is occupied well.) Alternative: once a month meal planning. We've even done this before, and it was hugely successful. Excuse: I'd have to send the kids away for a weekend a month to make it happen. One more. Let's talk about the state of my house. I never really envisioned myself as the hot-mess-mom type until I had three kids within two years, but let me tell you - I am indeed, a fully hot-mess-mom. Like, seriously. Don't come to my house unannounced. I'm not ready. Ever. Alternative: facebook-zombie time needs to go. That's enough time for a full load of laundry and a kitchen scrubdown before bedtime. Excuse: I'm too tired/don't want to think/exert effort/do anymore today.
But today, I just can't with it all anymore. I can't keep gazing longingly at my alternatives as if they weren't really possible, piling excuse after excuse on top of them. Not anymore. It's time to gear up for a real change. A life change. Not because my kids need it, or even my family unit as a whole needs it. Not for my husband or outward appearances (even though I do appreciate at least appearing within socially acceptable ranges of normal cleanliness and functionality).
I need this. I need to be healthy. I need to be motivated and functional and honest and real. I need to get out of the spiral-sink-slouch of the last 15 months and take pride in my life, the daily doings that make up the very core of who I am. It's gear up time. Gearing up for the next phase. The phase of life that will make me a better wife, a better mother, because I make me a better me.
So, six weeks in advance of my birthday, I dedicate my upcoming year to No-Guilt-No-Excuses. A year for me to right myself, to take pride in something, to shake the last shreds of depression, anxiety, and burden that I have carried for too long. It will require fight, tenacity, and effort, but it will also require grace, acceptance, and humility. And, for fun and accountability, I'll take you along with me.
Phase One will be drafting a plan. I tend to be highly motivated by plans, goals, visuals (sticker charts, anyone?), and progress. Over the next six weeks, I hope to prepare the strategy that will carry my no-guilt-no-excuses life changes. I do this all the time in my professional life, with an excellent track record. Why it hasn't transferred into my personal life, I do not understand. But this year, it will. It must. For my well being, for my children, for my spouse, but most importantly, just for me.
Shortly after the twins were born, I slouched, sank, and eventually spiraled pretty hard into postpartum depression and anxiety. And I worked my ass off to hide it from everyone. And I never got the help that, looking back, I really needed. All a saga for another day.
But now, as we approach the twins turning 15 months, summer quickly fading into shorter, cooler days of fall, I am struggling to shift gears into a healthier, happier version of life that I expected to find by now. Some aspects of life have improved significantly. The mobility and food-freedoms of growing toddlers have alleviated many of the stresses of earlier life all-consumed with nursing/pumping schedules and baby carrying/wearing/strollering options. And sleep, while certainly not perfect, has settled into a mostly viable routine for all of us. So much of life in our current state is so much fun. New skills, words, and daily discoveries are exciting and make my heart smile.
But at this point, I have some desires bubbling up that are remaining largely unfulfilled. Because, let's be honest, it's just damn hard! All of it. Working, parenting, living...it's just hard. But there's got to be alternatives to my current situation which looks like morning-rush-no-lunch-evening-rush-bedtime-routine-facebook-zombie-do-it-all-again-tomorrow, sprinkled with hefty amounts of never-finished-laundry-sticky-surfaces-and-pee-or-diapers-everywhere.
So alternatives. I've considered them all. And I mostly greet them with excuses. I'll speak on my desire to workout first. Alternative: workout over lunch. Excuse: I don't usually take lunch so I can get home earlier to be with the kids, a chaotic exercise in survival until bedtime. Alternative: keep kids in school for an extra hour a day to workout after work. Excuse: mom guilt piles on big time because I do really want to see my kids during their waking hours, even if it's not always fun. And let's talk about meal and grocery planning. Because our current method of pantry scrambling and fast food aren't exactly always delicious or nutritious. Alternative: spend one hour a week making a plan, a list, and running to the store. Excuse: Okay, but like when? (Ya'll did see my facebook-zombie mention earlier, right? Clearly not every moment of my life is occupied well.) Alternative: once a month meal planning. We've even done this before, and it was hugely successful. Excuse: I'd have to send the kids away for a weekend a month to make it happen. One more. Let's talk about the state of my house. I never really envisioned myself as the hot-mess-mom type until I had three kids within two years, but let me tell you - I am indeed, a fully hot-mess-mom. Like, seriously. Don't come to my house unannounced. I'm not ready. Ever. Alternative: facebook-zombie time needs to go. That's enough time for a full load of laundry and a kitchen scrubdown before bedtime. Excuse: I'm too tired/don't want to think/exert effort/do anymore today.
But today, I just can't with it all anymore. I can't keep gazing longingly at my alternatives as if they weren't really possible, piling excuse after excuse on top of them. Not anymore. It's time to gear up for a real change. A life change. Not because my kids need it, or even my family unit as a whole needs it. Not for my husband or outward appearances (even though I do appreciate at least appearing within socially acceptable ranges of normal cleanliness and functionality).
I need this. I need to be healthy. I need to be motivated and functional and honest and real. I need to get out of the spiral-sink-slouch of the last 15 months and take pride in my life, the daily doings that make up the very core of who I am. It's gear up time. Gearing up for the next phase. The phase of life that will make me a better wife, a better mother, because I make me a better me.
So, six weeks in advance of my birthday, I dedicate my upcoming year to No-Guilt-No-Excuses. A year for me to right myself, to take pride in something, to shake the last shreds of depression, anxiety, and burden that I have carried for too long. It will require fight, tenacity, and effort, but it will also require grace, acceptance, and humility. And, for fun and accountability, I'll take you along with me.
Phase One will be drafting a plan. I tend to be highly motivated by plans, goals, visuals (sticker charts, anyone?), and progress. Over the next six weeks, I hope to prepare the strategy that will carry my no-guilt-no-excuses life changes. I do this all the time in my professional life, with an excellent track record. Why it hasn't transferred into my personal life, I do not understand. But this year, it will. It must. For my well being, for my children, for my spouse, but most importantly, just for me.
Sunday, August 27, 2017
Sneaking back from Leave
A very fast ten weeks have past of my maternity leave. A blur of feeding, pumping, diaper changing and washing and assembling. Lather, rinse, repeat. I'm very thankful for the time to home with my boys, as the blur has been exactly what they need - food, comfort, a present mama trying her best. But with one looming project left half complete upon departure, I sneak away from my leave and into my office, just a few hours at a time, when no one else is around. And it is weird.
In my absence, my biggest program came and went. And while it wasn't perfect (they never are), students arrived, moved in, were oriented toward their new campus experience, and got their start in classes. I stayed far away during this program's happenings, knowing that my presence would intimidate and shake those around me, and I'd be far too tempted to meddle in the details. But my first sneak back into the office after that program this weekend was were things got weird.
I pulled into my usual old parking space, walked up to my office using the usual back elevator, but the scene I had left ten weeks ago was not the scene I returned to. Despite not seeing a single moment of my usual orientation programming with flocks of excited and anxious new students surrounding my every moment, there were indeed students around. The cafe was full of loungers and diners, the sidewalks carried noisy clusters of students to their destinations. Campus was full and buzzing. Compared to the relative quiet of summer months, it was a stark contrast that I, perhaps, wasn't mentally ready to see.
But here I am, plugging away at those promises I made before I left. And at this point, I don't feel quite the load of guilt that I carried as I left. I did what I could. And I can finish the rest even as the rest of campus is already rolling on without me. I'll keep quietly working behind the scenes, where I prefer to be, finishing what I started before I start back up again on the next round of projects and promises in December.
In my absence, my biggest program came and went. And while it wasn't perfect (they never are), students arrived, moved in, were oriented toward their new campus experience, and got their start in classes. I stayed far away during this program's happenings, knowing that my presence would intimidate and shake those around me, and I'd be far too tempted to meddle in the details. But my first sneak back into the office after that program this weekend was were things got weird.
I pulled into my usual old parking space, walked up to my office using the usual back elevator, but the scene I had left ten weeks ago was not the scene I returned to. Despite not seeing a single moment of my usual orientation programming with flocks of excited and anxious new students surrounding my every moment, there were indeed students around. The cafe was full of loungers and diners, the sidewalks carried noisy clusters of students to their destinations. Campus was full and buzzing. Compared to the relative quiet of summer months, it was a stark contrast that I, perhaps, wasn't mentally ready to see.
But here I am, plugging away at those promises I made before I left. And at this point, I don't feel quite the load of guilt that I carried as I left. I did what I could. And I can finish the rest even as the rest of campus is already rolling on without me. I'll keep quietly working behind the scenes, where I prefer to be, finishing what I started before I start back up again on the next round of projects and promises in December.
Thursday, May 04, 2017
Emotionality of an Impending End
As the weeks wear on in my pregnancy, I find my emotions running a little deeper than usual. Usually, this would be more of a first trimester occurrence, but the emotions I feel now aren't the hormone packed rush of illogical, sudden, and unpredictable extremes. No, these are far more sensical and ordered.
I have a little countdown chain on my bulletin board above my computer in my office. As of today, it holds only thirty one little metal paperclips. That's the maximum number of working days I might have in the office if I make it to the end of this pregnancy. And in twin pregnancies, the odds are not necessarily in my favor that I'll cruise through all of those days before two tiny humans decide to make their grand entrance into the world. Thirty one days.
The gravity of that ever shrinking number has been weighing heavier with each paperclip that gets taken down. I promised a lot of things this academic year. I promised I could accomplish enough to make my biggest programs happen without a hitch. I promised that I'd have solid notes prepared and systems set up. I promised that I'd meet with all my teams and walk them through everything they'd need to know. I even promised myself that I could do it all, and do it with an attitude of personal challenge not personal overworkedness and overstress. After all, I have a pretty good track record of upholding my promises even when I've got little to stand them on. I've kickstarted many firsts here - Homecoming parades, new scheduling models, giant "pilots" of courses with the entire first-year class at once. I've pulled off nearly miraculous J-term experiences, held to impossible budgets, won some folks over to some new concepts that seemed completely insurmountable. So I thought surely, surely I could keep one more string of promises, even with no foundation under them. I could do my job, the busiest most chaotic six months of my job, before I'd need to leave, and expect results similar to my being present.
And staring down thirty one days or less of possibilities, I realize now that my word might perhaps fall short this time. It's too many projects. It's too many details, that I usually rely on years of experience to just make up on the fly, needing to be figured out and cataloged and advanced in excess.
Perhaps the most emotional part of all of this for me is that as the years go on, I am realizing the value of making oneself dispensable in their professional roles. I spent probably the first half of my career working hard to make myself indispensable. I'd take on the really hard stuff, I'd make promises and work my ass off to keep them, I'd try new things, things so complex that I knew from the start that they maybe weren't all that sustainable. But I also knew I could do them. So I forged on.
Somewhere in the middle of my years here, and maybe more recently than I care to admit, I began to realize that my commitment to being the only one who could do what I do was flawed. It forced me to work harder than I had to to create successful programs that relied solely on my experience, skills, and talents, and while that was totally working for me, it wouldn't work forever. What if I disappeared someday? What if I quit? What would become of all of that work, all of the layers of complexity that were designed by and for me?
Transitioning next door to your former professional life taught me a few hard lessons. When you choose, for whatever reason, to let go of everything you've built and worked and fought for, it immediately becomes someone else's. And that someone else is going to take all the impossible, just-for-you stuff and chuck it. I watched it happen. And it nearly crushed me. But I took a valuable lesson away from it - I need to work toward dispensability.
The only problem with that lesson is that it came too late. And now, the what if has turned into a guarantee. I will be gone. I will disappear. I will not be the one to execute all of the just-for-me complexities I created. And as much as I want to weasel away from it all, shrink into a corner and let someone else take over, I am still managing systems that are designed for me, not just anyone. And I'm working toward my leave by accomplishing things so ridiculously challenging that I'm convinced I'm one of few here that could actually get them accomplished. While I know that's not really true, I also know that it's still trickier than it needs to be, more complicated than it should be. And that really grinds at me these days.
As the impending end of my days in the office draws nearer, I so desperately wanted to leave on a high note, walking away knowing I did what I said I would do and did it well. The reality is that I'll be leaving a complicated mess in my wake, one that will burden colleagues, one that will leave many promises broken. I fight battles in my mind, fight back the emotions of failure and defeat, knowing I really did work my ass off, I really did try to make the best of things. I couldn't have done any more. So I waffle between desperately desiring to just escape now, to give up and go home knowing I was bested by my circumstances this time and clinging to some ludicrous hope that I've got one more indispensable miracle in me before I go.
I have a little countdown chain on my bulletin board above my computer in my office. As of today, it holds only thirty one little metal paperclips. That's the maximum number of working days I might have in the office if I make it to the end of this pregnancy. And in twin pregnancies, the odds are not necessarily in my favor that I'll cruise through all of those days before two tiny humans decide to make their grand entrance into the world. Thirty one days.
The gravity of that ever shrinking number has been weighing heavier with each paperclip that gets taken down. I promised a lot of things this academic year. I promised I could accomplish enough to make my biggest programs happen without a hitch. I promised that I'd have solid notes prepared and systems set up. I promised that I'd meet with all my teams and walk them through everything they'd need to know. I even promised myself that I could do it all, and do it with an attitude of personal challenge not personal overworkedness and overstress. After all, I have a pretty good track record of upholding my promises even when I've got little to stand them on. I've kickstarted many firsts here - Homecoming parades, new scheduling models, giant "pilots" of courses with the entire first-year class at once. I've pulled off nearly miraculous J-term experiences, held to impossible budgets, won some folks over to some new concepts that seemed completely insurmountable. So I thought surely, surely I could keep one more string of promises, even with no foundation under them. I could do my job, the busiest most chaotic six months of my job, before I'd need to leave, and expect results similar to my being present.
And staring down thirty one days or less of possibilities, I realize now that my word might perhaps fall short this time. It's too many projects. It's too many details, that I usually rely on years of experience to just make up on the fly, needing to be figured out and cataloged and advanced in excess.
Perhaps the most emotional part of all of this for me is that as the years go on, I am realizing the value of making oneself dispensable in their professional roles. I spent probably the first half of my career working hard to make myself indispensable. I'd take on the really hard stuff, I'd make promises and work my ass off to keep them, I'd try new things, things so complex that I knew from the start that they maybe weren't all that sustainable. But I also knew I could do them. So I forged on.
Somewhere in the middle of my years here, and maybe more recently than I care to admit, I began to realize that my commitment to being the only one who could do what I do was flawed. It forced me to work harder than I had to to create successful programs that relied solely on my experience, skills, and talents, and while that was totally working for me, it wouldn't work forever. What if I disappeared someday? What if I quit? What would become of all of that work, all of the layers of complexity that were designed by and for me?
Transitioning next door to your former professional life taught me a few hard lessons. When you choose, for whatever reason, to let go of everything you've built and worked and fought for, it immediately becomes someone else's. And that someone else is going to take all the impossible, just-for-you stuff and chuck it. I watched it happen. And it nearly crushed me. But I took a valuable lesson away from it - I need to work toward dispensability.
The only problem with that lesson is that it came too late. And now, the what if has turned into a guarantee. I will be gone. I will disappear. I will not be the one to execute all of the just-for-me complexities I created. And as much as I want to weasel away from it all, shrink into a corner and let someone else take over, I am still managing systems that are designed for me, not just anyone. And I'm working toward my leave by accomplishing things so ridiculously challenging that I'm convinced I'm one of few here that could actually get them accomplished. While I know that's not really true, I also know that it's still trickier than it needs to be, more complicated than it should be. And that really grinds at me these days.
As the impending end of my days in the office draws nearer, I so desperately wanted to leave on a high note, walking away knowing I did what I said I would do and did it well. The reality is that I'll be leaving a complicated mess in my wake, one that will burden colleagues, one that will leave many promises broken. I fight battles in my mind, fight back the emotions of failure and defeat, knowing I really did work my ass off, I really did try to make the best of things. I couldn't have done any more. So I waffle between desperately desiring to just escape now, to give up and go home knowing I was bested by my circumstances this time and clinging to some ludicrous hope that I've got one more indispensable miracle in me before I go.
Wednesday, November 02, 2016
Biggest Professional Challenge
I am about to embark on quite possibly the most significant professional challenge of my career.
A number of months ago, my husband and I decided we were ready to start trying for baby number two. Well, I was maybe more ready than him, but after some discussion, we really were ready to try. Not having tried at all for our first, we weren't really sure what to expect. After a few months of dutifully tracking my fertility and timing things out, nothing. We thought it would be easy and instant like the first time, but it wasn't.
I had already done the math in my head. Certain months are far better for being pregnant and taking an extended leave than others in my line of work. For me, August through October is my busy season with little time off and little forgiveness when it comes to tasks that need completing with near perfection.
At first, we were trying for an April or May baby. Then we were trying for a June baby. Then as the calendar wore on, I got anxious and knew we'd need to make an intentional choice: Stop trying for three or so months to ensure we'd avoid the busy season...or take our chances not knowing how long it might take us to see success. As dedicated as I am to my career, I am also dedicated to being the best mom and wife I can be. So to me, knowing that pregnancy wasn't going to be instantaneous, it made sense to keep trying and take any accompanying risks to my professional life.
We're pregnant. Due in July. I will miss my entire busy season, not just part of it.
But I'm choosing, with an obvious nervous quake in my voice, to see this as a professional opportunity. A challenge, if you will. Can I professionally ensure that my many tasks, events, and trainings are as successful with me away as they would be with me there? Can I really pull it off?
I've spent much of my career stepping into new challenges and roles without a lot of preparation or knowledge of the terrain. I've looked so many of my colleagues in the eye and said, "Trust me," and I meant it. I've had no proof of my abilities to accomplish what I say I will other than the results that I produce after the fact. In a few weeks, I will step into my boss's office, I will look him in the eye, and I will as him to trust me as I step away from my role and responsibilities during a critical time. I will have no way to ensure near perfection of the tasks and events that I need to pull off. I will have no guarantee of success. But I do have a track record. I have a record of success that I'll stand by, and hopefully by boss will to.
Yes, this will be the greatest professional challenge of my life. If I can do this, I know I can do anything.
A number of months ago, my husband and I decided we were ready to start trying for baby number two. Well, I was maybe more ready than him, but after some discussion, we really were ready to try. Not having tried at all for our first, we weren't really sure what to expect. After a few months of dutifully tracking my fertility and timing things out, nothing. We thought it would be easy and instant like the first time, but it wasn't.
I had already done the math in my head. Certain months are far better for being pregnant and taking an extended leave than others in my line of work. For me, August through October is my busy season with little time off and little forgiveness when it comes to tasks that need completing with near perfection.
At first, we were trying for an April or May baby. Then we were trying for a June baby. Then as the calendar wore on, I got anxious and knew we'd need to make an intentional choice: Stop trying for three or so months to ensure we'd avoid the busy season...or take our chances not knowing how long it might take us to see success. As dedicated as I am to my career, I am also dedicated to being the best mom and wife I can be. So to me, knowing that pregnancy wasn't going to be instantaneous, it made sense to keep trying and take any accompanying risks to my professional life.
We're pregnant. Due in July. I will miss my entire busy season, not just part of it.
But I'm choosing, with an obvious nervous quake in my voice, to see this as a professional opportunity. A challenge, if you will. Can I professionally ensure that my many tasks, events, and trainings are as successful with me away as they would be with me there? Can I really pull it off?
I've spent much of my career stepping into new challenges and roles without a lot of preparation or knowledge of the terrain. I've looked so many of my colleagues in the eye and said, "Trust me," and I meant it. I've had no proof of my abilities to accomplish what I say I will other than the results that I produce after the fact. In a few weeks, I will step into my boss's office, I will look him in the eye, and I will as him to trust me as I step away from my role and responsibilities during a critical time. I will have no way to ensure near perfection of the tasks and events that I need to pull off. I will have no guarantee of success. But I do have a track record. I have a record of success that I'll stand by, and hopefully by boss will to.
Yes, this will be the greatest professional challenge of my life. If I can do this, I know I can do anything.
Year of Intention: Do it now or later
One of the biggest struggles in my life and frankly a catalyst for this year's theme, is that I tend to delay non-gratifying projects. A prime example of this is our current method of laundry completion. It looks something like this:
1) Let the laundry pile up for several days until we start to run out of things to wear.
2) Line up several laundry baskets and begin washing and drying one after another.
3) Put clean and dry laundry into baskets.
4) Place baskets in random places throughout our living space.
5) Dig through baskets for several days to find what preferred clothing and wear it wrinkly.
6) When baskets are nearly empty, bring them to bedrooms, toss onto dresser top, and gather the next succession of dirty laundry waiting to be washed.
Now, for those with their laundry routine under control, I'm sure you're asking why in the world one would want to do laundry like that. The clothes is always wrinkled, always in view, and never in a home of its own like a closet or drawer. It is frustrating, to be sure, to have to hunt through several rooms of the house to find the cardigan I had intended to wear each morning. Was it in the clean pile on the dryer? Is it in the basket of darks on the couch? Maybe it's on top of my dresser? Ridiculous.
If I'm honest with myself, I really don't like doing laundry. Not at all. So I delay it. As long as possible. I try to do as little as possible in the laundry department that still allows me to be a somewhat functioning human being. But the fact remains that it still needs to be done. So is it better to delay and do as little as possible and endure the frustration of having laundry in many places unfolded, or do I try to change my habit and deal with laundry daily in an attempt to get it cleaned, folded, and put away in order to avoid the added frustrations?
This is a tougher decision than one would think. It's a conscious choice of enduring something either way. I either have to endure doing something I don't like to do in order to be satisfied at having done it after the fact or I have to endure the things that are frustrating about my current habits of delay and not worry about the fact that I'm rarely satisfied at all.
For me, it's also question of motivation and available resources. I really am motivated to change my habits because as part of this year's quest, I want to develop a tidier home. A tidy home does not have laundry strewn about in three rooms, unfolded, and a short sleeve away from falling behind the dryer. A tidy home doesn't have visible laundry anywhere. And this vision of tidiness would give me satisfaction. But it comes at a cost, the cost of doing something I don't like every single day. Can the motivation change my view of this disliked task? Could it eventually be something that I don't dislike at all because of the satisfaction that completion brings? And then those available resources, like time. Does a system get thrown off if I'm gone three days in a week? Can I uphold a change in behavior if resources are scarce making it harder to accomplish? The question of available resources, especially time, are always on my mind.
And let's not pretend that I only engage in this now-or-later battle over the laundry. This is actually so many things. It's the now of throwing away junk mail daily or the later of stacking it up and tossing it once a week. It's the now of putting away all of the work, lunch, daycare bags and containers as soon as we get into the house or the latter of tossing it all inside the back door and clean up the piles at the end of the week. It's the now of wiping up the spilled toddler dinner off the table and floor as soon as dinner is over or the later of getting to it after he goes to bed or the next morning when I step in the remnants.
Getting this picture? The now is always something I don't like to do coupled with the satisfaction of having it done immediately, and the later is the satisfaction of not having to do it right away coupled with the frustration of leaving it undone. Add to this the pressure of feeling like it all needs to be done whether or not I have the available time or energy to do it, and you've got one conflicted flailing woman.
But this Year of Intention was not meant to overwhelm or send me into a spiral of despair and strife. It was selected as such to create points of clarity and purpose, meaning and motivation. My habits to date are mostly just defaults in a busy world. It seems easier, albeit less pleasant, to delay doing things I don't like, but does that match the vision of the life I want? Well, that would require me to a have a pretty clear vision of the life I want. So I'll be starting there. Stay tuned as I work to craft this vision.
1) Let the laundry pile up for several days until we start to run out of things to wear.
2) Line up several laundry baskets and begin washing and drying one after another.
3) Put clean and dry laundry into baskets.
4) Place baskets in random places throughout our living space.
5) Dig through baskets for several days to find what preferred clothing and wear it wrinkly.
6) When baskets are nearly empty, bring them to bedrooms, toss onto dresser top, and gather the next succession of dirty laundry waiting to be washed.
Now, for those with their laundry routine under control, I'm sure you're asking why in the world one would want to do laundry like that. The clothes is always wrinkled, always in view, and never in a home of its own like a closet or drawer. It is frustrating, to be sure, to have to hunt through several rooms of the house to find the cardigan I had intended to wear each morning. Was it in the clean pile on the dryer? Is it in the basket of darks on the couch? Maybe it's on top of my dresser? Ridiculous.
If I'm honest with myself, I really don't like doing laundry. Not at all. So I delay it. As long as possible. I try to do as little as possible in the laundry department that still allows me to be a somewhat functioning human being. But the fact remains that it still needs to be done. So is it better to delay and do as little as possible and endure the frustration of having laundry in many places unfolded, or do I try to change my habit and deal with laundry daily in an attempt to get it cleaned, folded, and put away in order to avoid the added frustrations?
This is a tougher decision than one would think. It's a conscious choice of enduring something either way. I either have to endure doing something I don't like to do in order to be satisfied at having done it after the fact or I have to endure the things that are frustrating about my current habits of delay and not worry about the fact that I'm rarely satisfied at all.
For me, it's also question of motivation and available resources. I really am motivated to change my habits because as part of this year's quest, I want to develop a tidier home. A tidy home does not have laundry strewn about in three rooms, unfolded, and a short sleeve away from falling behind the dryer. A tidy home doesn't have visible laundry anywhere. And this vision of tidiness would give me satisfaction. But it comes at a cost, the cost of doing something I don't like every single day. Can the motivation change my view of this disliked task? Could it eventually be something that I don't dislike at all because of the satisfaction that completion brings? And then those available resources, like time. Does a system get thrown off if I'm gone three days in a week? Can I uphold a change in behavior if resources are scarce making it harder to accomplish? The question of available resources, especially time, are always on my mind.
And let's not pretend that I only engage in this now-or-later battle over the laundry. This is actually so many things. It's the now of throwing away junk mail daily or the later of stacking it up and tossing it once a week. It's the now of putting away all of the work, lunch, daycare bags and containers as soon as we get into the house or the latter of tossing it all inside the back door and clean up the piles at the end of the week. It's the now of wiping up the spilled toddler dinner off the table and floor as soon as dinner is over or the later of getting to it after he goes to bed or the next morning when I step in the remnants.
Getting this picture? The now is always something I don't like to do coupled with the satisfaction of having it done immediately, and the later is the satisfaction of not having to do it right away coupled with the frustration of leaving it undone. Add to this the pressure of feeling like it all needs to be done whether or not I have the available time or energy to do it, and you've got one conflicted flailing woman.
But this Year of Intention was not meant to overwhelm or send me into a spiral of despair and strife. It was selected as such to create points of clarity and purpose, meaning and motivation. My habits to date are mostly just defaults in a busy world. It seems easier, albeit less pleasant, to delay doing things I don't like, but does that match the vision of the life I want? Well, that would require me to a have a pretty clear vision of the life I want. So I'll be starting there. Stay tuned as I work to craft this vision.
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