Flirting with Failure

I have always been wound pretty tight.  I am very Type-A.  I like to be able to predict what is coming, and control it whenever possible.  I like finished products, and concrete accomplishments.  Projects should have measurable outcomes and clear plans, and they shouldn’t start until they do.  This has served me fairly well professionally for the past 20 years or so. 

That is also why dream chasing does not come naturally to me.

Many wise people in my life have told me that if I learned to meditate, pray, create space, sit still, knit, let go, fast, eat raw foods, practice yoga, shut-up, talk more, journal, get in touch with my inner child, heal past hurts, balance my chakras, and take more vitamins the answers to all of my big questions would be there. 

I truly believed that if I quit my job, the Universe would miraculously open the door to my future.  I would be filled with golden light, harps would play, and I would shed my old skin to reveal a brand new person.  I would “know”.

So far, the only doors that have opened reveal dirty dishes in the sink, piles of laundry and pee drips on the toilet seat. 

I am not sure what it is that holds me back, but I can feel it tugging at me whenever I take a step into what I now call my own personal “Brave New World”. 

I met an old friend for lunch last week.  She is incredibly talented at all things virtual, and she is going to help me get my new decorating blog up and running.  There were a couple of things that came out of that conversation that were absolutely more than I planned for. 

The first was that even though I went in with the mindset that I wanted her to create a successful blog that would draw clients into my decorating business, I almost had a panic attack when she started talking about ways to do that.

“I don’t want something that I can’t get out of gracefully if I change my mind…….” I told her.  What I wanted was an escape route. 

I froze when she asked me to explain……Didn’t I want to grow a successful business?  Wasn’t that the point of hiring her?  I realized in that moment that I was afraid to fail, and if I did fail, I certainly did not want to do it publicly.

It was a true deer-in-the-headlights moment.  When I shared that with her, the response was the same that I have heard over and over from many well-meaning people in my life.  “Why would you worry about failing?  You won’t!  You are successful at everything you do!”

And that was when I really understood the problem at a deeper level.  I don’t have a lot of experience with failure.  I simply do not do things that I don’t already know that I am good at, and I especially do not try out new things in front of others.  One thing I am not good at is failing gracefully.

There is no amount of mediation or clean living that is going to give me the answer of what I want to be when I grow up if I don’t learn to take risks.  The big fat lesson here is not about following my dreams, it is trusting that brushing the dirt off my ass in front of people is not the end of the world. 

I am trying out a kinder gentler me, one who is less about the outcome and more about the journey.

My "Thirties Bucket List"

I have been taking some flack lately from friends and family for creating what I like to call my “Thirties Bucket List”.  “You’re not DYING!”  - insert incredulous tone – “My life didn’t begin until my forties!”

I can’t say that I disagree with them – I am not planning on dying until at least 80, and hopefully well beyond.  That puts me at about my half-way point, which seems as good of a time as any to take stock of where I am compared to where I thought I would be by now.  It is an opportunity to reflect on where I have been, and where I want to be – then make a plan for the journey.

I have said before that women over 40 are different.  There is a certain confidence that comes from knowing that you can make it through almost anything, because in reality, you already have. 

I have logged a lot of miles – both literally and figuratively – since my early twenties.  I have been married, grown a career, nurtured my children, and have learned to live with a lot less sleep.  Some of it has been intentional, but most has been accidental.

So, here I am, almost at my life’s half way point.  I believe what everyone says about life beginning at 40 and I want to make damn sure that I am ready for it.  I want to jump in with both feet screaming “BRING IT ON!”.

In order to do that, I have some things I need to catch up on.  Hence the list – it is not because I think that my life will be over in 9 months, but because I know that a new day is dawning.

Here is my list:

Get paid for a decorating job

Run a 10K

Go to the dentist

Start college funds for the kids

Learn to ride a horse

Do something completely out of character

Get a tattoo

Host an exchange student

Wear sunscreen

Heal my shoulder

Own my personal story

As you can see, some of it is pretty easy – and some of it is going to take every bit of the next 9 months.  Some of it I have already started, and some I haven’t even thought about yet. 

In case you are wondering, I have already started the list for my forties…I thought a decade was a little more gentle of a timeline this time around! 

Thoughts on turning 39.....

I am turning 39 tomorrow.  I have never had a hard time with aging, and actually am kind of looking forward to 40.  It is sort of an “I am woman, hear me roar” age.  At 40, you pretty much are who you are going to be, and it is time to stop apologizing and own it.

Turning 40 is kind of like a colonoscopy – the procedure itself is not really that big of a deal, but the prep sucks.  This year – 39 – is my prep.

I can barely remember twenty, but I know that my life looks nothing like what I dreamed about then. At twenty, I was pretty sure that forty was nothing but a downhill slide to fat thighs, droopy boobs, and a pressing need to know when canned cat food is on sale at the dollar store. 

At twenty, I obviously needed a good slap in the face.

What I didn’t know then – and I wouldn’t have believed it anyway - was that I would have heartaches so deep that I would never recover, and moments of joy so wondrous that they would take my breath away.  Those moments would not come from sweeping adventures, but simply from living my life.

The weight of my experiences has settled into my hips and thighs as expected, but I like to think it keeps me grounded in my own wisdom.  Joy has crinkled my eyes, and I have “sun kisses” across my nose and cheeks. I have scars, both visible and invisible, that have healed and hardened to make me almost unbreakable.

I don’t really have regrets, but I do wonder what happened to that young woman who thought that there was so much time and limitless potential.  I never dreamed that I would settle in to domesticity so early and stay there, unquestioning, for the next 19 years.

I got married, bought a house, added dogs and cats – and then kids – to our family. I learned to say “no”.  I tended to plan, to be practical, to put limits on life.  I always thought that “later” I would take more risks; to be more present, love more freely, express my feelings more openly. 

With each year that passed, I bound myself more tightly with my notions of what “responsible” and “successful” looked like.  Somewhere along the way, I forgot how to say yes.

So, at 39, I have one year to make myself the woman that I can embrace at 40. 

Last week, in the perfect synchronicity of the Universe, my yoga teacher gave a talk about the Hindu God, Ganesha.  He is depicted with an elephant’s head and many arms.  My first thought was, “Great – look at all those arms, wasted on a man…..As a mom, I could REALLY have made good use of those!”.  And then, I noticed the central set.

Ganesha holds one hand out, palm upright, hand open to receive.  “Bring it on!”, he seems to say.  On the opposite side, the hand is depicted with the palm facing out, arm straight.  “But, let me choose what I keep.”  It is the dynamic tension of both yes, and no.

This year is about the hard work of excavating the hope and possibility of being twenty, then integrating that into the grounding and strength of being forty.   

It begins with saying yes.

Redefining Success

It has been one month and one day since my employment contract ended, and I am beginning to understand how people who are unemployed become depressed.  I used to think it was about the loss of income and financial strain, but lately I have been rethinking that.

Let me be very clear – this situation is of my own choice.  I was not let go, downsized, asked to reconsider my employment or any other politically correct way of saying that I was fired.  I was emotionally and physically exhausted, and it was just time for a change.  I didn’t know how long it was going to take for me to recover so I made the choice to end my contract.

Turns out, it took about a month. 

The joy I found in sleeping in, wearing my pajamas until noon, and “catching up” on those ignored household tasks wore off in the first two weeks.  When I did finally decide to put on a pair of jeans, they were a bit snug due to the open door policy on the pantry. 

I did move on from “catching up” to “mindfulness” about week three.  I decided that I was going to do the hard work.  I would find myself.  I would find Zen in the laundry room.  I would do yoga and journal every day.  I would become the person I was always meant to be.

That also lasted about two weeks. 

I am definitely learning something about myself.  I actually NEED to work.  No matter how hard I try, I do not have the domestic gene.  I really wanted to find bliss in caring for my family.  I wanted to have my kids come home to freshly baked cookies on a pretty plate in the clean kitchen.  Is it Wednesday?  Laundry day- clean pressed sheets for everyone!  Thursday?  How about I greet you at the door with freshly done hair and a perfect dry martini?  Friday is lunch with the girls, and a stop at the market for fresh bread and a pot roast for dinner……

I love vintage sofas and kitchen appliances, but vintage décor just doesn’t make the housewife.  I can’t cook – I quit trying years ago – and I don’t think we have had dinner at 5 since the kids started school.  I have taught my children the fine art of shaking a shirt really hard to get most of the wrinkles out when pulled from the bottom of a laundry basket.  And, my hair, well I am surprised that I do not have a bald spot on the back of my head where it rubs on the headrest in the car since that is where I seem to spend most of my time.

I wouldn’t call myself a complete domestic failure, but I am pretty close.  Working has always given me an out – a place where I could feel successful.  I may not “get” the crock pot, but I know how to run a mean meeting.  I am at a loss when my 9 year old slams her door and screams that she hates me, but I can diffuse and soothe the most irate professional with ease. 

I am currently working to find new successes to replace the old, and constantly adjusting my expectations.  For me, it is an accomplishment to get the house clean, the errands run, and the dog walked and still get the kids picked up on time.  If I can work in a couple of business contacts, even better. 

"Beginnings are always messy....." - John Galsworthy

I have a friend who is a self proclaimed "change junkie".  She loves everything about change - the newness, the planning, the feeling that she is always on the edge of the next best thing.  I have to agree with her.  The early stages of anything are full of promise and possibility, doors seem to open effortlessly, and there is a sense of purpose that is not often present in the day to day maintenance of a project.

While I love the changes, it is often the transitions that immobilize me.  William Bridges has done quite a bit of work around the psychology of transitions, both personally and organizationally.  He speaks to the "change" as an isolated event that begins the journey of transition between the old and the new.  Changes can be life events - births, deaths, marriage, divorce, job changes or career moves - or can happen within organizations - a restructuring, growth, downsizing, or new leadership.

Bridges makes the point that the change itself rarely is unmanageable, but that is is actually the way the "after" is handled - the transition - that makes the new reality a success or an uncomfortable failure.  It is in acknowledging the loss inherent in change that we are able to grow confidently in the new direction.

Through a process of grieving - or sometimes celebrating - the loss of what was, we open ourselves up to what Bridges names the "neutral zone".  This is a place where all things are possible and, with solid supports, we are able to be at our most creative.  This can also be a wilderness of uncertainty, a "psychological no man's land", a place where there are no real answers and where the end product is unclear.  The old way is gone, and yet the new way is not yet grounded.

I find myself quite often in this neutral zone lately.  I am grieving some significant losses - a regular paycheck, the camaraderie of co-workers, a well defined scope of work with concrete tasks to complete, and even the accountability of having a "boss" to answer to.  I feel as if the very foundations of what identified me as a professional have been shaken to the point of collapse.

Through all of this, I am also experiencing some bright spots of a new reality.  I have been able to replace professional relationships with long neglected friendships, reconnecting with women who feed my soul through understanding and shared experiences.  I have given myself permission to rest, and to remember what feeling whole and grounded feels like.  Like many others with demanding careers, young children, husbands, pets, and seemingly endless household tasks, I have lost sight of what "healthy" is.  I am working to reclaim both my physical and emotional health by not giving in to the constant pressure to "do", and spending some time each day just "being".

It has not been easy.  I have defined myself as what I "do" for so long, that I have forgotten to connect with who I am, and it is an unsettling and uncomfortable process.  Societally, we measure a person's worth by their contributions.  Those who have "important" jobs are seen as more valuable, more interesting.  We use our careers, our clothes, and our bank accounts to shield us from authentically connecting with others, and ultimately, with ourselves.

I am slowly taking baby steps out of the neutral zone to try on the new beginning.  I have lined up a couple of small early childhood consulting jobs, taken on a few interior re-design projects for friends, and am getting used to wearing yoga pants to pick the kids up after school.  I have named my new business, created business cards, followed up on some long ignored medical issues, and taken a couple of naps in front of the fireplace.  I know that at some point in the near future I will have to let go of the trapeze and trust that the other one will be there for me to grab, but for now I am content to let the process happen in it's own time.

The Big Leap

I have a confession to make - I am not really as brave as I have made myself sound.  For the past month, I have pretended that the leap from a well established career in early childhood to a yet-to-be-developed business in interior decorating was a well thought out decision.  My contract with my previous employer ended yesterday, and today I am terrified.

I have always wanted to work in the creative arts in some way – I have just never believed that I had any talent.  My grandmother is a painter, my dad a builder, my aunt a doll artist, my mom a seamstress.  I have always been awed by each of them and their ability to create a “something” from raw materials -  a formal dress shaped from a bolt of lifeless fabric, a house rising out of a cavernous hole in the earth, frothy waves appearing  from a palette of lifeless colors, or the tray of random arms, legs, and heads that suddenly becomes a dainty fairy.

Over the years, I have become increasingly frustrated with my inability to create.  I am hopeless with a sewing machine, can barely tell a skill saw from an allen wrench, and hate the smell of turpentine.  I will never be a painter, a builder, a seamstress…..or, for that matter, a potter, sculptor, crafter, or photographer.

I have always used my space as an outlet for stress. My family jokes that they know when it has been a bad day because they come home to a new house – the furniture rearranged, a room repurposed, the closets and drawers cleaned out.  During really rough times, we remodel kitchens, build additions, and add gardens. Putting my space in order is a way for me to control what feels uncontrollable.

In July, I had dinner with a very wise mentor.  Her art is in shaping the spirits of people.  In the unexplainable synchronicity of the universe, she is currently building a house.  Through our conversation over sushi, she was able to mirror back to me my previously elusive art. 

I can “feel” spaces the way my grandmother sees a landscape on canvas, the way my aunt knows how all of those random clay body parts will form a doll, and the way my dad can put together a pile of 2 x 6s into a kitchen.  When I am in a space, I can see it’s unique potential – the way that the placement of furniture, the right wall color, and perfect accessories can bring out it’s best self – and the best in those who live and work there.  I have always known I could do this; the revelation was that not everyone can.

Like all artists, I have come to a place in my life where I must create.  It is simply no longer possible for me not to.  That same mentor shared this with me:   “You have a gift that you accepted before you were born.  Saying no to that gift is saying no to the universe itself.  You can either make the choice to use it on your terms, or wait until the universe makes the decision for you – but it is inevitable.” 

So, I have decided to do this on my terms as much as possible. For now, I am going to try and keep a foot in both worlds to potentially avoid the starving artist stage. In the immediate future, I need the emotional security blanket of the known as I try out the new.  We will see how that goes – there may come a time when the risk of not giving over myself wholeheartedly becomes more of a risk than the financial worries.

Thanks to all of you for supporting me on this journey.  I can’t wait to hear about the risks that you have taken – or wish you had the courage to take.  Please share!

Meetings 101

I just finished round two of a set of regular meetings that I facilitate as a part of a four person team.  Though we had exactly the same agenda, they were two completely different experiences.  As any teacher will tell you, the people in the room make all the difference.

What I love about group work is that it is a totally organic experience.  I have a friend who says "100% scripted and 100% flexible" in her planning for any kind of training or meeting.  Of course, that means that we always come in with 200%!

One of the things that I have learned over the years is to always have Plan A, B, and C.....and often Plan D is what I end up using when standing in the front of 40 pairs of blankly staring eyes.  There are some basics though that I always use when planning.

The first is to have clearly defined outcomes.  Is this gathering for networking?  Am I teaching a specific skill?  Is there particular information that people need to leave with?  What decisions or discussions need to take place?

Next, I craft an agenda based on these outcomes.  I send that out as far ahead as possible to attendees, and I also post it on large chart paper in the front of the room for people to refer to throughout the meeting.  That helps them know where we have been, and where we are going next.

A critical component to successful groups that is often overlooked is the physical set-up of the room.  I like a lot of interaction in my meetings, so I often set the tables up in small groupings - it promotes a sense of community and sharing when attendees are able to look at each other around a table.  My second favorite arrangement is best for smaller groups and that is a "U" shape or circle shaped seating.  I only use classroom style seating if there is to be little or no interaction between participants - which happens rarely or ever!

I also try to give a "homey" feeling to the room to lift the energy and put people at ease - having coffee and water available, music playing before the meeting starts, and fresh flowers on the sign-in table make people feel welcome and valued.  So do name tags or table tents, extra note paper and pencils, and a bit of chocolate or mints on the tables.

Lastly, I use the first 15 minutes of the meeting to set the tone for the rest of the day.  After welcoming, I make sure that they know how to get their physical needs met (restrooms, refreshments, etc.), and that we set our ground rules for working together.  This gives time for people to settle in before we jump into the agenda, and it avoids repeats for any stragglers that arrive a few minutes late.

I try to follow the 10-2 rule as much as possible - research shows that adults can only take in about 10 minutes of talking before they need a 2 minute processing break.  This can be as simple as having them say a sentence or two to the person next to them, or taking out a piece of paper and jotting down their thoughts.  I know that if I don't give this to them, they are going to take a mental trip anyway, so I might as well keep it focused on the task at hand!

I always allow for a few minutes of "wrap-up" at the end of any meeting, and make sure to thank everyone for coming.  After the official end, I may follow up with anyone who seemed overwhelmed or confused, and I always debrief with my team.

Not every meeting goes smoothly, and we all have off days, but this is a formula that has served me well in many varied situations.  I have also used these tips in situations where I was not the facilitator by gently suggesting a break, asking at the beginning for outcomes,  or offering a summary statement at the end of a meeting.

Most of us spend some portion of our lives in meetings - from PTC to Church to Community Groups to Boardrooms.  These are tips that work universally to make the best use of our limited time.

What can you do differently at your next meeting?