Doing the hard things

In my last post, I quoted Soulful Simplicity about doing the things you don't want to do, so you can do the things you want to do later on. As a coach and follower of coaches, self-help authors, and wellness types, I'm seeing a lot right now about how we have to do the hard things.

I wish I'd had that mindset when I was younger. 

Don't get me wrong. Life was hard, so in that sense, I did hard things. Throughout my teens and early adulthood, life was very hard. A high school friend has long said we went to "handle it school" because if we learned nothing else, we learned to handle almost anything -- any crisis or problem -- growing up in our neighborhood. But those aren't the type of hard things, nor the mindset, I'm referring to. Many hard-learned lessons later, I realize that while I didn't grow up in ideal circumstances, I also made my life much harder by getting in my own way. 

How do you know if you're in your own way?  

When you feel like nothing's working, or if where you're headed isn't where you want to go, you might be getting in your own way. If you find yourself always struggling, or consistently unhappy.

How did we get here? We may not know any better, especially when we're young. We're products of our environment and our experience, and even our DNA, and if you're like me and didn't have many good role models, it takes a while to figure it out.

So much of what we experience is mindset--a concept that can be challenging to understand. Because at my core I believed life was hard, I (unknowingly) looked for evidence in every circumstance to support my belief. And because I believed life was hard, I looked for and drew to me circumstances that made life harder than it had to be. I'm not saying that many of the bad and sad things that happened during my early years were my fault -- by no means was I responsible for predatory men, belittling teachers, absent adults, and bullies and friends more fucked up than me. But because of my beliefs, which included what I felt I deserved, I put myself in a lot of situations that could only result in harm or hardship. 

Even though I intellectually understood some of this in my twenties, having learned a bit about 'new thought' philosophies, creative visualization, quantum physics and energy, etc., those early beliefs by then were buried deep in my bones and drove much of my experience, running below the surface of everything I did. Not until yet another devastating circumstance presented itself did I finally break free. 

A wise therapist helped me shift my thinking. Among other things, she asked if I believed life was hard, and when I said yes, she asked, "what if life just is?" What if the universe, or whatever you believe in, is neutral, and your circumstances are a reflection of what you believe? 

I'd have done a whole lot of things differently. 

I used to think I wanted life to be easy. Growing up, I thought life was supposed to be easy and was always astonished when it wasn't. Because I was so afraid of failing, of looking stupid, because everything seemed hard, I regularly chose the path of least resistance, or what felt like the easiest way. Except it wasn't ever easy, and in fact, that mindset made everything much harder. I was an intentional underachiever because so much felt too hard and I was scared.

But looking back at my accomplishments, the greatest satisfaction came as a result of hard work - - from effort made, energy expended, challenges accepted... sometimes involving strife or heartache or walking through fear, and almost always learning something new or different.

Although not aware while doing these things, I did a lot of hard-for-me things over time, without really thinking about how hard they'd be.

Some of my hard things? Honestly, I don't think I expected to live a long life, so I didn't take particularly good care of myself when I was young. I smoked and abused myself during my teen years, but decisively stopped all that when I realized I was going to be around a while and wanted a better life. I watched my mom and other family members succumb to illness, and deliberately made choices like eating better and exercising that support a healthier life. I determinedly put myself through college when it seemed nearly impossible. I wanted a career that included writing, so I carefully and mindfully carved out a path. I wanted a different result when a relationship nearly ended so I went to therapy and uncovered those deeply held beliefs -- and made a conscious effort to change them.

In hindsight, these were the hard things I had to do for a better life later, although at the time, I wasn't aware of that mindset.   

We can do the hard things. Sometimes it's just saying no to a second helping (noticing my own patterns), or starting an exercise program by moving your body 10 minutes every morning, or unlearning an unhealthy behavior. Sometimes it's calling an estranged relative or friend, setting aside a need to "be right" and instead choosing the relationship, or setting boundaries with someone who crosses them. Sometimes it's much harder, like forgiving yourself or someone who harmed you, or being compassionate with yourself, or finding gratitude for just one thing each day. 

Do the small things every day,
and they'll lead to big things. 

If you want something, be intentional. If it feels hard, start small. And know that if it feels hard, it's probably worth it. Get clear about your priorities, then map out a plan. Create daily routines or rituals and then methodically take the steps -- every day -- that lead you there.  

Sometimes I still hope for luck. But experience tells me that luck comes to those who do the work. My mom, not a religious woman by any stretch, always said that "god helps those who help themselves."  

I don't know about you, but if I'm going to grow old, and I hope to, I want to be healthy, and able-bodied, with the means to afford a decent life. While I know there are many circumstances over which I have no control, I can make choices that, should I get to grow old, increase my odds of enjoying those later years more than I enjoyed my younger years. Most days, I can do the hard things. 

I don't think we all need luxury homes and and exotic cars -- although if that's your jam, then by all means, work to create it. That said, I believe I deserve a life with "better problems", as author Mark Manson refers to them in The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck. I think we all do.

So if you're in your own way like I was, take steps every day to create the life you want, even if it feels hard. Work toward having better problems. I no longer believe life is hard, even though some things feel hard.

Remember that saying, "Life's what you make it"? For the vast majority of us who are of sound mind, that's pretty much it.  

Life just is. 

Stripped naked

I'm not sure who I am right now. Or who we are, collectively.

What if you scream and nobody hears? 

Yesterday, I dropped Forrest off at the airport, where he caught a plane to Singapore to meet a ship for an as-yet undetermined amount of time. He'll see ports in China, Korea, Sri Lanka and Pakistan. So that's one thing. He's my rock, my partner, my confidant, my playmate, my buddy. The good news is he's working. The bad news is he's away for a long period to do it. He's been home for over a year and right now, I feel like part of me is missing. This, too, will pass, but right now it's a void and I don't know which way is up. This is his career choice, we have shared goals, we've done this before, and I know I'll find my groove, but this is the first time he's left when I haven't had a place to go each weekday.

...feeling vulnerable

This morning, when I signed in to Washington Unemployment to make my weekly claim, I saw I missed last week with the newness of Forrest's pending departure, and I'll have to re-open my claim. Going to that site every week is hard enough; while I am grateful for benefits, anxiety takes hold each time I sign on. Re-opening my claim, with the possibility of having to contact them, raises that anxiety up a notch or three. And, those benefits? They don't last long in the big scheme of things, and I'm getting closer to my cut-off date, with not many job prospects. To say I'm a little uncomfortable might be an understatement. I have savings, but I'd rather not tap into them, a little bit of debt from both of us not working for a while, and frankly, I don't want to settle for just any job.

I'm not sure where I fit. I've never been your average corporate ladder-climber. Yet I have paid my dues in non-profit and I'm not sure that's where I want to be right now. I have laid the groundwork for good work: I have multiple resumes, tailored for companies, industries and job type, a cover letter that lands me interviews, solid references and people who say great things about me and my work, had coffee meetings and lunches, reached out by way of LinkedIn to people I know and countless people I don't but who do interesting work, attended networking and association meetings, sat with the unknown for internal guidance (not sure how this is working for me), and applied for jobs online.

That's a coupl'a things.

Then there's the rest of the world. It feels like it's falling apart. Do things have to fall apart to get better? There are schools of thought that say so.


...and yet, privilege... 


This morning, while scrolling through Facebook on the micro-screen of my phone, I read a post by our former county executive (a long-time elected official) and high-ranking national HUD representative, about what it means to be black, even here.

Despite my personal quandaries, I know I benefit from privilege, purely by luck of the draw. I am white, was born in a largely white city, live in a somewhat middle-class neighborhood, in the mostly progressive bubble of Cascadia. His post reminded me how vastly different my experience is. I have worked with people of varying ethnicities, many who are first generation immigrants from different countries, and I have befriended people who are culturally and racially different from me my entire life. So while I hear their stories, I am always astounded. If life sometimes feels hard for me, I can't imagine what it must be like to leave home every day wondering what fate -- or our failed processes and systems -- may have in store for you. Most white people don't understand privilege (some even deny it), or how they benefit. I'm not sure I do, either, because I can't walk in the shoes of those whose experience is so different -- but I do know it exists, and I understand that I benefit and it's not even a choice. I know I can say things like, "I don't want to settle for just any job" when so many don't have that option.

...still, there's bias... 

And, I am a woman. A blog post in my in-box this morning brought the recent Stanford rape case back to the foreground. The swimmer who got his hand slapped after being convicted makes me gag. I keep hoping things will change. There is so much more awareness now, and women are speaking out and banding together like never before against rape, assault, misogyny, and more, free to own their sexuality in ways I couldn't as a teen and young adult, and yet, this. Patriarchal culture is still alive and well.

Feeling small, but hopeful. 

I don't have answers. Our former police chief, Norm Stamper, has a new book that speaks to possibilities (read about it in this Crosscut article). Empathy and compassion are essential to changing who we are, individually and collectively. But do we have the will, the desire, to change? The willingness to own our fear? To acknowledge our perceptions might be wrong? To forfeit privilege and power? Even at work, at a micro-level, I witnessed how hard it was for people to let go of or even share privilege and power, to even acknowledge it exists. Brene Brown talks about 'hope' in Daring Greatly. I have hope. And I'm lucky to have that. Many don't.

But right now, I feel naked. Alone. Vulnerable. Unsure of next steps to help myself and to help the collective "us".  I want to be part of the solution. To make a difference for people and the planet. But I'm not sure what that is. How to bring more awareness and understanding to those who are afraid, feel powerless, when I feel afraid and powerless to even help myself some days. What I I know is I'm resilient, creative, and resourceful, and I'll find my way.

I just wish I had answers. For me, and for us.

In our differences we grow, in our sameness we connect. 

First impressions: Our whole, real selves

What if I showed up to an interview wearing my
favorite shoes, instead of shiny new pumps,
and we focused on the work that needed
to get done and how I could help? 

What if we could bring our whole, real selves to everything we do? There's a lot of chatter these days about bringing our whole selves to work. The separation of work and home required for so long seems to have finally gone the way of the double-breasted suit and pantyhose, at least in many workplaces. Couldn't happen soon enough!!

But what about interviews? I ask this as I navigate my job search. The process feels much like a game, and there are those who are better at playing than others. I think it's easier for extroverts, of which I no longer call myself. I straddle that introvert / extrovert fence now, and with each passing year, lean more heavily toward introvert. Better to observe, listen, assess, advise - those skills that make me good at what I do, but not as good at marketing myself.

I haven't been shy about stating this previously: I have long felt the corporate environment to be largely unhealthy. While I think that's changing (in some cases) as society changes -- people like me working inside the system for more humanity and authenticity, younger workers with different expectations of what work should be and do, technology revving up the pace of it all... Yet the world of interviewing hasn't changed much, except it's more competitive, and includes applicants and interviewers from all generations.

Here's the thing I'm unsettled by. I'm not just "iPhone smart" as an acquaintance put it. I am older, more experienced now, with creativity, energy and insights to spare, yet it seems as though many talented job seekers younger than me benefit from assumptions about age. Not that there hasn't always been bias in the workplace / hiring sphere...

Aacck... and, as I write (and rewrite) this, checking myself on my own biases and assumptions about getting hired.

By nature of our generations, we have different skillsets and mindsets. We have different experiences that shape who we are. And all generations have value in today's workplace. Generalizations based on generations and first impressions mean a lot of organizations miss out on great people -- whether they're hiring for youthful idealism or aging wisdom, maturity and experience. We've all heard the assumptions about generations X, Y, millennials and boomers, and sure, some are true, but that's only a piece of our story...

Call me a pragmatic idealist

At this point in my life, I carry my idealism couched in pragmatism. It means I have great ideas, yet the ability to be effective, follow through and make things happen. I don't think I fit the stereotypes. I'm savvy, smart, learn quickly and pay attention to how things are changing and where we're (collective we) headed. But how many hiring managers get a sense of this through the current interview process?

My point about bringing our whole selves to everything we do is about our energy and true contribution. Had I worn those shoes pictured above, with the outfit I had on, my energy at a recent interview would have been entirely different. 

Mind you, I'm not suggesting we wear workout gear and flip flops to interviews. Unless it's a job that requires yoga pants -- and some do.  And I'll admit that seeing a stylist, having my make-up done, and shopping for some 'interview-worthy' outfits to 'feel more fresh and vibrant' has made the process a little bit more fun. But if that's how I'm going to be judged (because what does a hiring manager do if not judge; first impressions count!), it's disappointing.

What if rather than a guessing game, hiring managers shared the details of their culture even before meeting you, told you about the problems they're experiencing and need solving (I've yet to see a job posting that really does this), expected you to come as you are (just as they show up to interview you ... as they are), and clarified their needs and expectations right up front, rather than waiting for you to ask those 'questions that show you're interested' at the end of every interview? What if the process was a conversation about getting work done? An exchange of ideas to see how you'd really work together? The physical and creative energy in that setting would be so much more powerful.

To date, I feel like I'm preparing for finals without knowing more than a few generic questions. I am a storyteller of other people's stories; pre-canned 'accomplishment statements' to shout out my successes make me cringe.

All that said, attitude is everything. Confidence, competence, resilience... I have these in spades, and this process continues to build more. And I know when the right place and I find each other, none of the above will matter (except the shoes). We'll have a conversation, we'll all see the benefits, and everything will fall into place. Because that's how it works.

Onward.