Getting the Band Back Together
This isn’t the most flattering picture of me but the emotion I feel when I look at it totally matches the overall tone of today’s post.
Getting the Band Back Together
Prologue. What this post isn’t. Fun or cheerful. What it is. Long, personal, real, and honest. I promise in my next post, I’ll be back with a fun, cheerful, and helpful blog post to hopefully brighten your day or touch your heart.
November 19, 2018
Remember me? My last blog was back in May. May. I’ve been struggling to restart. Starting has been the hardest part.
Update: December 8, 2018
What happened to me in the second half of 2018? Why did I lose my way with Flynns? Work has a lot to do with it. But besides work….Am I depressed? I’m pretty sure I am. I’ve long ago self-diagnosed myself with anxiety, adult ADHD, and depression. Somewhere during the second half of 2018, I started to feel lost, overwhelmed, broken, scared, unsure, and weirdly like someone else. I think work was the catalyst for my anxiety and depression. I’ve never worked so hard in my life and was left feeling less than I am. I started and stopped writing this post off and on since before Thanksgiving. I’ve battled with so many thoughts in my head. I wasn't sure how to get them out and in an order that translates into something either meaningful or that makes sense…period. I struggle with posting something that is dark or anything less than cheerful. But then I keep coming back to these thoughts: Be transparent. Be honest. Be real. So with that, I’ve decided that I just need to do it. Just get every last raw thought and feeling out of my head. Write what I want to say and what I’ve been feeling and then decide later whether or not to publish it to the blog. Then when it’s done, I’ve at least gotten these wandering thoughts out of my slightly tortured mind.
Update: January 10, 2019
For Christmas, my niece, Libby, bought us tickets to see Rachel Hollis’ Rise Up documentary. We went last night. I love her. I love us. She and the documentary were just the medicine I needed to finish this post.
Now a month since that last smallish entry, I see glimmers of light again. As I mentioned, the work I was doing May through December left me physically and emotionally exhausted. I do feel that our life experiences are purposeful. People and experiences present in life to teach us something or offer opportunities. The challenge is finding the lesson or opportunity and to grow from it. Maybe my time working the past seven months was more than expanding markets and keeping the engine running. Maybe it was for me to take note of how capable I am, how the biggest part of collaboration is listening, that agreeing to disagree isn’t always the best way forward, and that when I don’t take care of me physically, spiritually, and emotionally, everything else around me will inevitably start to fall apart. The lessons are complicated and powerful. I should also mention that the holidays were heavy for other more obvious reasons. I miss my Dad. And my Aunt Kathleen, my mom’s only sister and family left, lost her battle to cancer on December 12th. So there’s that. Heavy stuff.
Then there’s my old, old job of 17 years. It keeps coming to mind lately. It’s been almost two years since I left. So why now? Why? Why does it matter to me? Why do I keep reflecting or thinking about this place more than I’d like to admit? The reality is that in the end, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. So then, why do I find it in my headspace? I’m not sure I’ll find the answers through the process of writing this post, but I think if I take the time to unpack it for a minute, maybe I can continue to move forward in a more purposeful way.
Over the course of my 17 years at that company, I was promoted to Office Manager, HR Director and then, during my final five years, was promoted to Vice President of Fund of Funds (trust me it sounds more important than it is). So then why didn’t these promotions and roles fulfill me? Although it wasn’t just one thing, I see the biggest culprit much clearer now. There was one particular answer to a very simple question that I didn’t like. The Why. Why do I do what I do for this company? Once I look beyond “we help build companies,” the purpose of the organization was to make rich people richer. And the cherry on top — was that my day-to-day workflow was mostly making white men richer <insert gut punch>.
When you come from basically nothing; from undereducated parents who struggled each and every day (and to this day) to make ends meet, it became harder to respect the why of my job. It felt wrong and left me feeling empty. Coming from nothing also makes you sensitive to others struggling. I became bitter with some of the people I was working around every day. Why did they take our job so seriously? Why didn’t they take issue with our mission? Why weren’t we trying to use our resources to solve bigger problems? There were homeless people right outside our building, and even people working in our building that didn’t have health insurance or needed a job that provided a living wage, or a hand-up. I felt like I was drowning in obliviousness. I needed to do more. I was made to do more. Now, please know that this company is a great Baltimore-based company built around some truly amazing people doing great things outside of their 9-5—-and I totally see that and have real love in my heart for each of them. But for me, and without a plan, I couldn’t waste another 8-hour day being part of something that left me void of a meaningful purpose. So I left.
Then there’s my fear. It’s something that has held me back time and time again. It has the ability to extinguish my brightest light, my happiest of moods, and make my dream feel insignificant and stupid. I’ve never tried to really face this fact about myself. What fear is this? Fear of failure. Big deal, right? Most people have a fear of failure. But how can I believe in myself when I am so afraid to look stupid or ignorant. How can I learn and grow if I don’t fail? Of course, I know that this is holding me back from being the best version of me. Of course, I know that…
And as if to add insult to injury, in my weak moments, I care too much about what others think of me and crave their acceptance. So realizing that from time to time, my anxiety, depression, and fear, have caused me to value myself based on what others think, makes me sad. So sad. So what if you’re rolling your eyes while reading this post? So what if you don’t like my blog or website or my story? You. Don’t. Define. Me. You don’t get to be my judge. But in these weak moments where fear and anxiety rule, I’ve let someone else tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m smarter than that. I know better. I preach it to my children and friends. You be you. You do you. But then I’m all over here completely susceptible to me NOT being me. How do I change this?
And then there’s this potential reality: Maybe I don’t have what it takes. Maybe I think I’m made for more but I’m really at full capacity. Maybe I don’t have what it takes to make my dream a reality. Sounds like fear, right? Be strong. Failure won’t kill me. Failure can only help me grow. Maybe this is failure. Maybe I’m living right now through my failure. I left a comfy six-figure job because my soul required a worthy mission. Sounds honorable but it also sounds stupid, doesn’t it? I guess I do feel like a failure right now. Work projects are running out, money is running out, and I feel further from making Flynns a reality. Maybe this is where I start to rise up.
You’re right where you’re supposed to be. This is a mantra I’ve lived by. So I believe that all the positions I’ve held in my career and the choices I’ve made in my personal life up until now, even the little blips on the radar, and the discomfort and discontentment that accompanied these positions and choices, has helped me to realize that I am made for more. I needed my journey. My journey has made me, me. Maybe I am made to build this thing I've started—to build something that matters and makes a difference.
I’m right where I’m supposed to be. So no, I don’t regret leaving that job I had the honor of holding. But I need to own my story. I need to know my story—that’s where I can begin to be that better version of myself and rise up.
I am made for more.
January 15, 2019
Epilogue. In full disclosure, I have edited and removed a few snippets of raw emotion. Mostly to protect the innocent.
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