Barnmaven

So this is what they mean by that

I know I have a reputation for being a hippy-dippy "bloom where you're planted" sort of mouth breather from time to time.  I'm not always that way, sometimes I'm not even remotely that way, but just as with many of life's Grand Lessons, I think if you repeat something often enough to yourself you start to maybe "get" it.  And in the grand scheme of life's plans I firmly believe in the value of striving to find peace - if not outright pleasure - in accepting the material circumstances I find myself in.  

There have been times in my life I've been truly unhappy in my circumstances.  Sometimes I really did try to make the best of things, sometimes I didn't.  When I did try, though, if honest trying didn't bring about a level of situational peace I really could live with, I moved on.  In retrospect I believe that often those situations really weren't a good fit, and divorcing myself from them was the best choice.  Not always, of course, but I can live with that.

I've been with my current employer for a little over six years now.  I genuinely mean it when I tell you that I want to be working for them until I retire.  Its a great place to work, great people, great products, interesting business and I've learned much.  The last year or two, though, were a lot of stretching for me.  We partnered up with another company and began to third-party some of our business processes over to this other group.  Some of those processes happened to be what I liked to think of as my business processes.  This new partnership meant my life and the lives of many of the people I work with would change, in some cases significantly.  This new partnership is also vital to supporting the long term growth of my company.  Without it we might still grow, but not in an efficient way, not in a way that maximizes our use of space, time and people.

There are a lot of people out there who make a living off of helping people to implement, drive and survive change. Its a growth industry.  Pick your program, there are lots of them -- everything from the basic "Who Moved My Cheese?" series to Spiral Dynamics.  You can have anything from a course-completion certificate to a PhD and make a comfortable living as a writer or a consultant in the field of corporate change management.  And no wonder -- most people don't like change.  The most successful people in the world thrive on it, the happiest people in the world either already know or have successfully learned how to live with it.  There are a lot of different folks with a lot of different formulas that can tell you how to how to get there, but I believe ultimately people can't - or won't - learn how to successfully navigate change until they are faced with a situation where the reward for making the change is so meaningful that it completely obliterates the alternative as a viable choice.  

Some change management programs try to teach people to embrace what can't be changed in the hopes of finding peace, if not meaning, in the new reality.  Other programs explore the psychology of change.  Spiral Dynamics teaches that successful change happens when people have both the need for change and the resources to navigate the change.  Without the resources necessary to make the transition, many people will experience great stress and ultimately be bypassed by a change they are not able to make.

That's where I found myself the past year or two.  I struggled at first.  Visibly.  It was noticed.  I didn't help myself or my future opportunities; in fact, I hurt them.  But I was fortunate in having a lot of support from a few peers, from friends, from SG.  I was able to evaluate the need for me to change with a clear understanding of what both the costs of and the benefits to change might entail.  Eventually I made a decision to not just fight the change but to go along with it in a positive way.  It was hard at first - I had to pretend.  A lot.  Paste on a smile and say "OK" when I felt like flipping everyone the bird and hiding in a corner with a bottle of chardonnay and some powdered donuts.   Eventually a day came when I actually found myself embracing the changes, and beginning to finally live in the moment, enjoying what I happened to be doing at that moment instead of worrying about what I would or wouldn't be doing in the future.

Because of that I was given the role of working on assignment at the location of our new business partner as a problem solver and a liaison between them and our transition team.   I'm busier than I can ever recall being in any job - not just task-busy, but mind-busy too.  Every day brings new opportunities to find solutions, to support people and to help make something happen.  Every day I get to experience success in both small and large ways, and I get to enjoy it in a way that I could never have if I hadn't found the way to not just live with my new normal but to completely embrace it.  Even better?  I've had an opportunity to have a very positive impact on an important project and the visibility can only improve my career outlook down the road.

Embracing this transition has involved releasing some deeply-held fears.  I have feared no longer having importance.  I have feared loss of status.  I have feared confrontation and having other people be right where I was wrong.  I have feared being left behind, left out, held back, pushed out.  At some point I was drinking from the end of a fire hose full of fear, and I realized that my fear was what was hurting me, not the change itself.  I had to stop worrying about what might happen and start being part of what was already happening.  And so I decided that was what I would do, and from that point on, everything has felt different.  Not perfect, not always , but so much better.

I realized after going through all of this that I didn't actually know or believe as much as I thought I did about living in and through change.  And honestly, I really did think I knew a lot.  I've been through a lot of change, but apparently not as gracefully as I could or ought have.  That's humbling.

(Not only is it humbling but it leads me to consider all the other things I think I know lots about and wonder when those "learning opportunities" are going to present themselves.  Oh, GREAT.)

 

 

The un-Mother's Day day-after-Mother's-Day Guest Post.

Hi there.

Yes, I remember that I have a blog.  You remember that I have a life?  Yes.  Lots of it, lately, as it turns out.  Its all good and I will think of something pithy to write, soon.

Today, though, the words are not mine.  I want to share with you what my dear friend Julie shared with me about how complicated Mother's Day sentiments can be for many of us.  Her words brought tears to my eyes, and yet ultimately brought a smile and a nod.  I asked if I could share them with you and she graciously agreed.  

In her own words:

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I don’t like Mother’s Day. I admit it. Oh, I smile and pretend to be cheerful for the sake of those around me, but inside I cringe. If there is one thing I’m thankful for on Mother’s Day its that I only have to be exposed to it one day a year and then its over for 364 days. Or so I thought. This morning, the day after Mother’s Day, the girl at Starbucks wished me happy Mother’s Day while she was collecting for my Americano. My stomach tightened and I could feel my blood pressure going up. How does she even know if I’m a parent? I smiled and said thank you. Yesterday, I went to the nail salon as I will typically do on a Sunday afternoon every few weeks. Lesson learned….better to tough it out one more week than go on Mother’s Day. The place was full of women who apparently thought that I and everyone else within earshot needed to know what wonderful families they have. An amazing husband and loving children who woke them up with a 5 course gourmet breakfast (and of course they all stood around adoringly gazing at her while she daintily ate with perfect table manners), dozens of flowers, a full spa day, cleaned the house….”anything for the most wonderful mother on the world”. I’m sure they had perfect hair, makeup and breath when they woke up to their loving family paying homage to them on this special day. Yeah. I should have waited.

My feelings about Mother’s Day started at a very young age. My adoptive mother had some very set in concrete ideas about how the day should go down each year. And we never lived up to it. Ever. Each year there would be the tears and arguments because the day did not live up to her expectations. She did not get the right gift, reservations for brunch were made at the wrong restaurant, or not made at all, it was always something. She would verbally lash out at both my adoptive father and myself and when she was done she would go to her room to cry. And, as he typically did, my adoptive father would take out his anger on me, resulting in emotional and physical bruises. Then we would all get dressed up and go out to be on parade as a “loving happy family”. Mother’s Day made her a little crazy….and I dreaded it.

Once I got older and had kids of my own, I thought my feelings would change, but instead I got better at putting on the happy act. My kids would make me little gifts at school and/or daycare and I loved every single one of them. I still have many of them today. But I still had the sense of dread. I would have to call my adoptive mother. And I knew she would not be happy. At least I was living in another state and would not be on the receiving end of anyone’s fist or foot.

I also now had another reason to dread Mother’s Day. As I had children of my own, I began to think more and more about my birthmother. I was adopted as an infant in the early 1960s. It was a closed adoption and I did not know her, her name or anything about her. Mother’s Day (as well as my birthday) reminded me of this. I wondered if she ever thought of me. If she ever wondered where I was and how I was doing. If she would ever try to find me. Years later, I found her. We reunited for a few years, but over time it became clear she was not willing to have any kind of relationship with me. Once a dirty little secret, always a dirty little secret.

And last but certainly not least, I think of my son on Mother’s Day. My beautiful son, who died in 1995 at the age of 6. Honestly, I think of him every day, but days like Mother’s Day are worse. If I had been a better parent, he would probably still be alive today.

Finally, I rebelled. No more would I celebrate Mother’s Day. No more would I smile and act cheerful when there was nothing to be cheerful about. Mother’s Day would cease to exist in my world. Some silly holiday was not going to define how I felt. I would be in control of how I felt. There was a huge weight that lifted from my shoulders. However, there were unintended consequences. I confused my daughters, who didn’t understand why, all of a sudden, Mother’s Day was something to be ignored. They would still make some efforts over the next few years, to which I would explain that I was not celebrating Mother’s Day anymore. Looking back on that now, I realize I was unfair to them. They had no way of understanding why I felt the way I did. They didn’t know my history. Heck, even I didn’t completely understand why Mother’s Day made me sad and angry at the same time. I suspect in some way they felt it had something to do with them, which was absolutely not the case. I love my kids more than they will ever know. The little tokens they gave me on Mother’s Day was their way of doing something nice for me, because they cared. And I denied them that opportunity. In retrospect, it was a very selfish thing to do.

Over the years I’ve learned just because I don’t like Mother’s Day is no reason for others to not enjoy it. I think that, at the end of the day, its more about the people who are doing the giving rather than the people who are receiving. So I go through the motions. On Saturday I bought a nice card for my daughter from her 3 year old son, along with some chocolate strawberries. On Sunday morning, I quietly woke him up and helped him “sign” the card. Then with my coaching, he quietly knocked on her door and went into her room, card and strawberries in hand. I was proud to see that he did say “Happy Mother’s Day Mommie” (we rehearsed beforehand), and she was thrilled. It was not a 5 course gourmet breakfast and I’m sure he was gazing more adoringly at the chocolate covered strawberries than at her, but she seemed to be pleased nonetheless. There was a small piece of me, that for a second, longed to be in her place. Then, I quietly closed the door and went back downstairs. It was their moment as mother and son. And so, with this simple act, I instilled a tradition within my grandson and helped to increase their bond. May they enjoy many more Mother’s Days together.

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Julie, what you shared is to me a perfect illustration of the concept of the twofold yes:  Acknowledging the pain of what is hurtful and and accepting that life can contain both pain and peace at the same time.  Thank you so much for letting me share this.