Let’s set the scene for this post. Imagine I’m standing in front of you but not making eye contact. I’m twisting a ragged piece of paper around my fingers because I fiddle with my hands when I’m nervous. I’m speaking in halting, jumbled phrases as I try to get through a reasonable explanation for why I fell off the blogging planet.

Because there IS a reasonable explanation. But I still don’t feel good about shutting off and shutting down when my momentum here was just starting. But on the other hand, I needed to shut down. I needed to shut this out and mourn this blog a bit and rethink my direction. This blog had started to become a place to talk about life change and taking action and careers. And then my life and career – and my husband’s life and career – got entirely turned around. Upside down. Inside out. In ways I couldn’t talk about publicly. In ways that made all those New Years Resolution Plan Posts go poof. In ways that made me reassess and release a number of cherished dreams. In ways that forced me to discover new ones. In ways that forced me to make peace with regret because it’s a package deal with my new opportunities.

Enough with the vague exposition. Because what happened was simple enough, even though the aftermath is emotionally complex:

On the first day of the new year, my bosses offered me an opportunity to move to Washington DC for three months. A career-changing, life-changing opportunity. An opportunity that means I could do great work. But an opportunity that means a lot of compromise and loss as I mourn the business I had hoped to start. And the lifestyle I’d been hoping to develop. And the husband and family and friends I’d have to leave in Los Angeles.  I went home to think about it.

The next day, my husband’s job cut his hours (and pay) by 20%. On the plus side, we narrowly escaped another layoff (really, his company is exemplary for the way they fought to keep staff at reduced hours instead of laying people off.) He’s had the downsizing ax fall a few times since 2008. We feel grateful he has a job. But it means we’re finally accepting that his job is volatile – even after leaving his previous field for presumed stability – while my job is more secure.

So life decided for us. I am taking the DC opportunity while my husband will focus on growing his freelance work into a full independent business. I will be the stable breadwinner in our family. And being the stable breadwinner means I do not have the freedom to pursue an independent business, at this point in our lives.

(Bonus round in Life’s game of Gotcha: I managed to get walking pneumonia during that same crazy week. It turns out that sorting through giant life changes is NOT easier when wading through three weeks of snotty tissues.)

The DC job details have shifted a lot since the beginning of January. I still don’t know whether I’ll be in DC full-time or part-time. I don’t know when the job will start. I don’t know all the responsibilities. I am living in limbo and trying to get comfortable with not knowing. I am trying to get comfortable with What It All Means for our lives. I am trying to take joy in the work I do and not wallow in the stress it entails. I am trying to see the glass half full with reflections of rainbows and sparkles glinting off the surface of a delicious (alcoholic) beverage. I am trying to move past what I’ve lost and on to the legitimate joy and excitement for what I’ve gained. I’m trying to not be jealous of my husband and this immense opportunity he gets to grow his business.

I’m trying. Which means I sometimes succeed and sometimes fail. And I am very whiny and miserable when I fail. And I chose not to inflict that self-pity on my readers in January. But I didn’t know what else to write about here when my recent posts had been so full of career-driven purpose and determination.

So. I’m taking this blog out of its career-ish niche. I’m heading back into personal blog territory, if by “personal” you mean “whatever I personally feel like writing.” I will probably still write about leadership development and personal growth, since that’s where I’m putting my career (and personal) focus these days. But I want to write more about politics, since I find myself election obsessed (not strange, for a policy nerd.) I may share more photos, as I turn towards photography as a creative outlet instead of writing (my writing-brain tends to get fried after 11 hour work days, which leads to guilt about not writing, which leads to stress, which leads to more brain-fry and is just a vicious circle of not-fun.) My Friday Link posts will probably become more eclectic. We’ll see. Much like my life, this blog has been thrown back into limbo. I’m finally ready to see where that takes me instead of stressing about what I no longer have.

January was all sorts of stumbling. I’m aiming to make February more of a leap, in whatever direction that leap may take. If you’re here and still reading, thank you for sticking around. Welcome to the glorious confusion.

It was the last stop on my Christmas shopping journey. (If, by last stop, you mean three stores more than I’d originally mapped for my route through Los Angeles’ culinary supply establishments.) My head felt like a WalMart full of Black Friday shoppers were pounding on my skull. As I assessed the checkout line mob and glared at the two lone clerks, I meditated on the chilled sauvingnon blanc awaiting me at home.

I’ve got this. Easy as pie. Wine and pie and Christmas shopping.

I strode past the stooped older couple engrossed in their fixed income, to-the-cent cost analysis. I squeezed around two twenty-something girls filling their cart with party supplies. I went straight to aisle seven to collect the final gift item on my shopping list. Aisle seven, where I’d seen it so many times before. Aisle seven, which was conspicuously missing the item I needed.

I’ve still got this. It’s easy as a cookie. Wine and cookies are delicious.

“Excuse me,” I asked the lady stocking the shelf nearby. “Can you tell me where the —– is located?”

She looked at me blankly. I wondered if I’d spoken loudly enough. I wondered if maybe her English was limited, and I hated myself for thinking it. But I couldn’t bear the thought that her blank look might be about —–. Not when I was so close to finishing my shopping. Not now, when I was already two hours late getting home. Deep breath. Crossed fingers. Try again.

“Sorry, can you tell me where the —– is located?”

She shook her head. My heart sank. “No, we don’t carry that anymore.”

And that’s how I found myself crying in a supermarket at 9:30 pm on a Tuesday. For all of my advice to breathe through the December stress and embrace a month that celebrates family and connection, I couldn’t take it anymore. Screw the warm embrace of family (or the beckoning comfort of wine): the only thing I wanted to embrace was a whiskey cocktail (because hard times call for hard alcohol.)

Oh advice. It’s so easy to dole out but so difficult to take. This has been a month of work stress, personal stress, and holiday stress. But it’s also been a month of huge work successes, happy-dance-worthy personal accomplishments, and rollicking fun with family and friends. There has been champagne. And there have also been whiskey-deprived tears.

December is a month of contrasts and conflicts and frayed nerves. But it’s also a month that reminds me of my full potential. It reminds me that I have grit. It reminds me that I can push through the hard, wipe away my tears, and head to the next store.

I’ve got this. Easy as it’s ever going to be. Easier than coming to Christmas without a present. Push through the hard. It’s worth it. Hold onto the Christmas morning goal. I’ve got this.

The next store had what I needed. I made it home, dumped my bags, flipped open my computer, and steeled myself for more work. I did it. I have this. I have Christmas morning and work assignments under control. I have spectacular success and sparkly gift wrap ribbon to prove it.

I have this. December is mine because I earned it. I’ve earned the cozy fireside Christmas Eve reading with my family. I’ve earned a trip around the tree to touch each of the annual ornaments that map my personal history. I’ve earned the New Year’s trip to visit my husband’s family. I’ve earned a month of smiles and joy. And I’m ready to savor them. Sans wine, sans whiskey, sans regret. This is mine.

Merry Christmas and Happy Hannukah. Sending you wishes for a worthwhile, well-earned, and well-loved holiday season. See you back here next week for a final discussion about New Year’s goals.

Last week, we talked about approaching New Year’s Resolutions differently, by starting with our values. I know the exercise was probably hard. I know finding 20 minutes to sit down with a writing brainstorm is definitely hard (particularly with holiday insanity). I know thinking about big picture, guiding values, is hit-your-head-against-the-wall hard. And I know that uncovering, defining, and redefining values is a life-long process. But, hopefully, that exercise helped identify something that was truly important to you. And in turn, you can use that knowledge to craft meaningful goals that will help you live your values in 2012.

So how did you do? Did you uncover anything surprising? Did anything fall into place, or did the exercise just confirm (and therefore reaffirm) that you’re on the right track?

For me, the exercise was painfully hard. If I had 24 hours to live, I would have to grab ahold of my husband’s hand to keep myself from drowning in regret. I’d have to keep myself tethered to the few people who matter to overcome the guilt about not sustaining important relationships that slipped away when I never found time to email. On my deathbed, I’d regret throwing so much of my vibrancy and excitement about life into an adequate-but-nicely-paid job while leaving the exhausted, stressed-out shell for my family and friends. I’d regret pouring so much of myself into excel sheets that help corporations make money and do better when I’d rather be helping people make money and do better.

That momentary end-of-life perspective helped me identify my true values:

  • People matter.
  • Learning matters.
  • Sustainability matters. (I see sustainability less as “environmentalism” and more as “adopting a long-term versus short-term approach to economic, environmental, and social systems”.)

Hopefully you came up with your own set of values, even if they’re similarly broad. Especially if they’re broad, but personal and specific to you. These values are the foundation of your entire approach to life, and you need them to be broad, strong, deep and honest. For example, I love travel. LOVE LOVE LOVE travel. But making time to travel isn’t one of my values: learning is, and my passion for travel flows from there. My passion for travel is simply one expression of my core value for learning. Others include a voracious reading habit, an addiction to BBC nature documentaries, and a preference for commute-time NPR over music or morning DJ talk shows.

In order to make our New Years Resolutions stick, we need our New Year’s resolutions to actually resonate. We need to see the big picture purpose, so we recommit every time we’re grumpy and tired. By designing our goals upon the foundations of our core values, we give ourselves the chance to truly succeed. So let’s start by examining various life-activity categories. Start by deciding on few life-areas you really want to improve in 2012:

  • career
  • job (can be different from career, but paycheck jobs are still important)
  • romantic partnership (either the relationship we’re in, the relationship we want to get out of, the relationship we want to find, or celebrating the lack of romantic ties.)
  • family
  • friends
  • community
  • free time/hobbies
  • health
  • creativity (art, music, creation in any form)
  • define your own

Some of you might look at this list and say “oh – I want to do better at work this year!” or “I want to prioritize my health!” And that’s great! Me too! But let’s strengthen those laudable impulses my connecting them to our values. For example, I want to improve my performance at work this year. Although I’ve identified that I’m not particularly motivated by shareholder profit, I care deeply about the success of the individuals who work at the companies where I consult. So my personal improvement goals should focus on supporting people (and by extension, my values) in order to further my career. What about my core value of sustainability? How am I making time (or not making time – ouch) to invest in the long-term sustainability of my relationships with my family and friends? Do I treat health as everyday action for a sustainable future or do I begrudgingly return to exercise (for a month or two) after a health problem arises? These are hard questions that force me to examine whether I’m really living my best life. And if I’m not (and often, I’m not), then I can take this opportunity to realign my actions with my values.

How about you? Have you identified life-category areas where you want to improve? Are you currently approaching those life-category areas in a way that matches your values? This week, let’s each pick three life-activity areas where we want to make improvements. Then, let’s dig deep into our foundations by identifying concrete, value-based approaches for our life improvement goals. Feel free to share your brainstorm thoughts in the comments, send me an email, draft a guest post, or journal on your own.

Next Wednesday, we’ll have the last post in this New Year’s Resolution series. We’ll examine ways to plan for a year of success. We’ll break down our goals into manageable pieces, we’ll talk about pacing ourselves for the 2012 marathon (instead of the January sprint), and ways to resist the eat-a-cookie/faff-on-the-internet/sit-on-the-couch-and-watch-tv life inertia that threatens to derail even the most thoughtful, value-based, and well-planned goals.

via the Foundation for a Better Life

Happy Friday everyone! I had all sorts of plans for a comprehensive Friday Link post and commentary, but the week got away from me. I’d apologize, but I’m not actually sorry. Instead of writing, I was busy creating a pitch and program outline for a year-long series of professional development trainings for our company… and my pitch worked! My team and I have been working since July – in our “free” time – to create the program concept and run a few trial sessions. And it finally paid off. All those weekends and evenings mean… I get to officially have more work. But it’s work that I’m passionate and excited about, so it’s worth it in the end.

So here’s a brief rundown of articles and links that I wanted to share this week, sans commentary, to send you into the weekend.

On the importance of not getting stuck or settled, and using your 20s and 30s to find yourself:

This is the thing: When you hit 28 or 30, everything begins to divide. You can see very clearly two kinds of people. On one side, people who have used their 20s to learn and grow, to find … themselves and their dreams, people who know what works and what doesn’t, who have pushed through to become real live adults. Then there’s the other kind, who are hanging onto college, or high school even, with all their might. They’ve stayed in jobs they hate, because they’re too scared to get another one. They’ve stayed with men or women who are good but not great, because they don’t want to be lonely. … they mean to develop intimate friendships, they mean to stop drinking like life is one big frat party. But they don’t do those things, so they live in an extended adolescence, no closer to adulthood than when they graduated.

Don’t be like that. Don’t get stuck. Move, travel, take a class, take a risk. There is a season for wildness and a season for settledness, and this is neither. This season is about becoming. Don’t lose yourself at happy hour, but don’t lose yourself on the corporate ladder either. Stop every once in a while and go out to coffee or climb in bed with your journal.

Excerpt found here, and full article on via Relevant Magazine, entitled “11 Things to Know at 25″ (or any age, in my opinion). You should read it.

We never lose the opportunity to continue to learn, grow, and change. Sometimes we choose change, and sometimes change forces itself upon us. But if you can reinvent yourself after misfortune, I know you can reinvent yourself at anytime.

As much as I love productivity strategies, sometimes it’s important to stop being so productive.

This is a flashback to a post I wrote two years ago, right before our annual holiday party. Our annual holiday party is tomorrow night and I found myself needing this reminder, so I figured some of you could use it too. You’ll see that I’ve updated the excerpt below to refer directly to this year’s soiree. Not that much about my level of preparation or commitment to decor has changed, though I have perfected a spiced wine sangria recipe in lieu of lemon mint cocktails:

It would seem that our house is not ready for a large holiday party.  Oh well.  I refuse to wait for my house to be company-ready before allowing myself to partake in the joys of company.  I’m sure our hospitality and grace will overcome any home decor deficiencies… when sixty of our closest friends join us for a housewarming/holiday/engagement [our annual] holiday party.  I’ll wish we could pull together a classy winter white sparkle theme, but I’ll be content to pull out our box of delightfully tacky dreidel decorations (blow-up dreidels, hanging-from-the-cieling dreidels, and actual spinning dreidels), light-up Santa faces, Happy Hannukah garlands, and tinsel.

I had grand plans for the apartment and for this party that will both remain incomplete before [the big] night, [thanks to some really late nights at work and with our business plans].  My curtains will remain unfinished , my winter wonderland tablescape [decor] ideas will probably not happen, and I have a feeling we’ll end up hiding some of our mess in a closet or two. And still, I wouldn’t put off this party for the world.  It’s an annual treat, a chance to see our friends before everyone is overscheduled with office parties, family and vacations.  So what if our house isn’t perfect?  Our friends are coming for the homemade latkes, lemon-mint cocktails [spiced sangria], booze-and-gelt-filled pinata, and company (hopefully not in that order) and the details of our cheesy holiday decorations and limited everyday decor don’t really matter.

This “Stay Hungry, Stay Foolish” playlist from The 99 Percent (not Occupy Wall Street related) has pushed me through my week and my workload. It’s kind of amazing. Seriously, go turn it up, push through the holiday stress, your crazy workdays, and your crazy side projects. If life isn’t crazy yet, use it to push you to take on a bit more hard-but-worth-it items.

And lastly, if you’re participating in our New Year Visioning work, take some time this weekend to think through your values and vision statement. I’ve been blown away by the responses I’ve seen already, and I’m honored to be taking this journey with you. I’ll be back next week with more exercises.

In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy a well-earned weekend.

Today ‘s post is the first in a series about preparing for New Year’s resolutions. Let’s use 2012 to focus on the right things for each of us, instead of general goals that sound good. Let’s work on identifying what’s truly important, so we can edit away the distractions that inevitably arise. Let’s base our goals in a larger purpose, so we know exactly why we’re pushing through the hard, when the hard moments inevitably arise.

—-

What’s your five-year plan?

If you’re anything like me, that common career/life question can leave you blinking back tears and forcing down panic. A plan? A PLAN?! I recently worked with a career counselor who asked me about a plan, but all I could picture were generalizations. I want a decently paid job I love, I want work-life balance, I want kids in a few years, I want to maintain a great relationship with my husband, I want a big nest egg, and I want to take fabulous international vacations every year, but I have no sort of plan. Because a plan would require knowing what that “decently paid job I love” might be so I could actively work towards it.

Really though, where do you see yourself in five years?

Listen, career counselor lady, I DON’T KNOW, or I wouldn’t have hired you to help. I may as well tell you I see myself living at the end of a rainbow cavorting with leprechauns and learning the fiddle, because I can’t quite picture myself in a mythical perfect job. I can tell you I probably see kids. And a lot of associated sleepless nights. And that it doesn’t sound fun at all as I try to juggle kids and a high-powered job. I don’t want life to happen to me. I don’t want to get by. I want to steer the HSS Stumble and Leap towards something great. I want direction, so during each stormy colicky child night I still know where I’m heading and why I’m fighting through the hard.

In other words, I want to define my vision and purpose, so I know why I’m bothering with that dratted five-year plan. I want a personal values statement. I want a personal mission statement. Because the five-year plan and the 2012 goals to achieve it flow from my purpose, and not the other way around. When we understand our truest self, we can make goals that nurture it.

So how do we start to define our core values? How do we know our most honest self, without influence from parents, friends, media, advertising, and cultural expectations? It’s not easy. It can require some soul-searching. So today I’m going to ask some hard questions that you can take home and ponder. Brainstorm a bit, and don’t be afraid of messy fragmented thoughts. Sleep on them. See where they take you, even if you’re uncomfortable.

Grab a pen and paper, set aside 20 minutes, and let’s dive in:

  1. Imagine you are financially secure, that you have enough money to take care of your needs, now and in the future. How would you live your life? Would you change anything? Let yourself go. Don’t hold back on your dreams. Describe a life that is complete and richly yours.
  2. Now imagine that you visit your doctor, who tells you that you have only 5-10 years to live. You won’t ever feel sick, but you will have no notice of the moment of your death. What will you do in the time you have remaining? Will you change your life and how will you do it? (Note that this question does not assume unlimited funds.)
  3. Finally, imagine that your doctor shocks you with the news that you only have 24 hours to live. Notice what feelings arise as you confront your very real mortality. Ask yourself: What did you miss? Who did you not get to be? What did you not get to do?

These questions all came straight from George Kinder’s life planning exercises, which I found on Get Rich Slowly. These questions start off easy (I’d travel! I’d start an inner city non-profit focused on girls! I’d build a home for my family with a semi-unstructured garden full of organic vegetables and hidden vine-and-flower-filled, sun-speckled corners! I’d have a vacation home in Spain and raise adorably bilingual children!) Yeah, it’s easy to plan a great life if money weren’t an issue and it’s easy to resent the “yeah, right, not in a million years” nature of the question. But as Kinder’s questions become more focused, you have to dig deep. You have to face who you are at your core, once your choices get stripped away. And then, you can take that core and start to plan a life that honors it.

According to Kinder, the third question usually generates responses that follow five general themes:

  1. Family or relationships — 90% of the responses to the final question contain this topic.
  2. Authenticity or spirituality. Many responses involve leading a more meaningful life.
  3. Creativity. Surprisingly, a large number of respondents express a desire to do something creative: to write a science-fiction novel, or to play guitar like Eric Clapton.
  4. Giving back. Further down the list are themes about giving back to the community, about leaving a meaningful positive impact.
  5. A “sense of place”. A fifth common theme (though nowhere near as prominent as the top three) is a desire to have some connection with place: a desire to be in nature, to live someplace different, or to help the environment.

Those five themes are only general options. Maybe yours is different, the only important thing is that it’s yours and, not that you have an emerging sense of your driving life-themes, you can start to visualize how it might look if you aligned your life to support your values. If your family and friends are more important to you than anything else, picture how your “best self” might honor that. Would you make time on Sundays for family dinners instead of running errands? Would you be the person your friends called for advice and sympathetic listening? If your themes tended towards giving back, do you see your best self as a mentor? As an organizer? A fundraiser? Are you collaborating? Are you leading? Are you solitary? Are you solving problems are you focused on action? If you’re focused on creativity, are you building something big or are you focused on the feeling of creating the art itself? What feels like it might energize you? What feels like it might drain you? What activities within your self-identified themes get you most excited?

All these questions are attempting to take your best version of yourself and identify who you are when you’re living your values. Are you generous? Are you observant? Are you making jokes or performing? Are you analytical? Are you fixing things or helping people? Who are you when you’re living a life that matters?

That’s your vision for yourself. That should help define your goals for 2012 and beyond. Because this isn’t about developing a set of resolutions or a five-year plan. That’s a to-do list, not a vision. Instead, our goal is to build a life that supports our truest values and our best version of ourselves. Identify who you are when you’re living your best self at home, at work, and in your community. And let that guide you towards an overarching vision of who you can be, and the values that drive you.

Next week, we’ll be back with more posts on taking those values and turning them into concrete goals. Following that, we’ll talk about habit formation and ways to reinforce success.

It is in the knowledge of the genuine conditions of our lives that we must draw our strength to live and our reasons for living.

-Simone de Beauvoir

I am not a fan of New Year’s resolutions. I tend to find the January 1 new start a bit artificial. If I haven’t been committed to going to the gym/spending more time writing/starting a new hobby/etc prior to January 1, I’m not going to learn to combat the life-inertia and make new changes at the drop of a hat. Transitioning to new habits requires specific and realistic goal setting, organizing your environment to promote success, and deep resolve to push through the hard. For instance, if your New Year’s resolution is to lose weight by eating less and moving more, you’re going to fail. But if your New Year’s resolution is to: exercise for 30 minutes on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday mornings with a workout video, replace all desserts with fruit, buy a large amount of fruit on December 31, and work with your partner to encourage each other… then you can succeed. And that sort of success and planning takes a lot more than a scribbled list of aspirational goals sometime in December.

But there’s something undeniably powerful about the start of a new year. We make our Best Of lists from the year before. We stop to assess what we’ve done over the last 12 months. We look at where the world has taken us. We stop. We assess. Possibly we reassess. And for many of us grappling with career change, life change, and the what-next questions we’ve been discussing here, the idea of a new start with an as-yet unwritten year can invigorate and inspire. Alternatively, it can feel like panic closing in because, once again, you’re reminded of how lost you are and how overwhelmed change can feel.

So I want to try something this year, and I’m inviting you to join me. I want to use December for some Big Picture thinking about how I want 2012 to look, and I want to lay the foundation for truly succeeding with some Little Picture planning. And I don’t want to set myself up to get overwhelmed. I want to set important but realistic goals. I want to help uncover some of my own truths about my own huge picture goals and life-vision. And I want to forgive myself if this exercise doesn’t go as planned, because I know that the simple act of engaging with these questions, even when it’s brutally hard and emotionally wrenching, will move me closer to long-term clarity, even if I can’t see it now.

Over the next few weeks, I’ll be posting thoughts about Big and Small visioning and goal setting. This is more about thinking, planning, and preparing ourselves for an authentic 2012 than it is about creating a giant to-do list. Since change is easier with a community of support, I would love if you joined me in these exercises. Use the comment section for discussion, email me for support, or come chat on twitter.  And please join me on Wednesday for a chance to start working on our vision and values statements. Because when I talk about goals and change, I want it to matter. I want us to dig deep to start to build lives that align with our truest selves, and goals that support that development. We can do better than “eat less and move move.” Instead, we can use this New Year goal-setting to commit to a 2012 full of honesty and purpose. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. Because we’re committing to the hard work of important, necessary, change and growth.

In case it hasn’t become apparent, I’m deep in the process of change. I’m wrestling with the big questions of who I truly am and identifying the life I really want to live. Some days, this process is exhilarating. It feels like I’m finally tapping into my potential, which makes my spirit soar. It feels like crisp air and snap-me-awake windchill as I cut through the sky, soaking up inspiration whichever way I turn my head.

And some days, flying just feels like wretchedly hard work. From the ground, it may look like floating. But in practice, it’s a lot of wild arm flapping to keep yourself up in the air. And arm flapping is rather exhausting. But I’m continuing to flap because I only have two options: keep pushing forward, or crash to the ground in utter defeat. Technically, I could glide to the ground and settle back into my comfortable career but, given what I learned by battling through my depression this year, that calm glide down would still end in failure. And I think I’m finally more terrified of settling back into my current life than I am of pushing forward.

I’ve never failed at anything. I’ve never pushed myself further than I thought I could go. Sure, I’ve worked harder than some people could ever imagine during month-long all-nighters to win millions of dollars in grant funding. But that work was easy for me (albeit exhausting). In contrast, I’ve never worked through the hard, to get to a place of ease or comfort. Instead, I go for easy (for me) wins and therefore avoid facing down potential failures. But that also means I’ve avoided becoming great.

I’ve been on the cusp of greatness several times. Many of you followed me here from my last blog where you watched me get achieve something huge in winning the Wedding Channel’s award for Best Wedding Blog of 2010. And then you watched me squander that opportunity as I panicked. Yes, I got overwhelmed thinking about the work needed to effectively capitalize on that opportunity (particularly with a full-time job and wedding to plan). But really, I got terrified at the prospect that I wasn’t good enough to make it as a blogger, so I didn’t bother trying. And with that decision, I failed anyhow. I failed by letting myself be content with safe and miserable.

I did not want to write this post today. Not at all. I wanted to go home and sleep after work, yoga, and an 8pm client session. I wanted to listen to the oh-so-true saboteur whispers that I’d earned a break. Because yes, I’ve definitely earned a break after my crammed-full schedule. But I’m not going to take it, because I want to work through the hard to achieve a life of meaning and purpose. That’s why I committed to write at least two blog posts a week – even when I reallydontwantotowaaaaaa – because writing plays a big role in my plans. Although this week’s second post is a tiny step towards launching me skyward, the ongoing commitment to the hard will keep me in flight.

When’s the last time you committed to something hard? What happened along the way? Are you considering launching yourself into any new commitments? As we look towards 2012 and the new year process of setting goals, maybe we can start by committing to something different. Instead of trying to lose that 10 pounds, why don’t we commit to committing? We can take the huge (I want to be healthy) and make it specific and manageable (I will exercise two mornings a week). We can take any dream (I want to fly) and drill down into the nitty gritty, committing to the long slog (I will write at least two posts a week, for however long it takes.) What would that look like, if we all made space in our lives for greatness and promised to achieve it? What changes would it take? What might your life look like if you committed

When you’re barreling along at a thousand miles a minute, it’s easy to overextend yourself. When you’re barreling along in December, it’s inevitable. The weeks between Thanksgiving and New Years are filled with responsibilities to write cards, buy/make meaningful gifts, attend holiday parties, and still fulfill work, freelance, and everyday life obligations. It’s a lot. In fact, it’s too much.

If you’re a perfectionist like I am, it’s probably hard to admit that it’s too much. If you’re like me, you’re probably feeling angry, overwhelmed, and resentful, with most of the anger directed at yourself. Where did your weekend go? Why didn’t you get started on writing blog posts until 9pm on Sunday? Why didn’t you do that optional work strategy outline? Why haven’t you done the laundry yet? Why didn’t you go grocery shopping? What’s wrong with you?

If you can find a way to pause mid-harangue to actually answer those questions, you might start to feel better.

Where did your weekend go? It went to family and friends. It went to a much-needed Friday girls night. It went to a Saturday afternoon with my father, walking around local art galleries and trying a new restaurant for his birthday. It went to a long chat with our family friend. It went to a friend’s holiday party. It went to Christmas present shopping and extensive DIY Christmas present planning. It went to household budget planning. It went to freelance work and helping a client prepare for an interview. It went to dinner with people we haven’t seen in ages.

Why didn’t you get started on blog posts until 9pm on Sunday? Ah yes, see above.

Why didn’t you do that reading for work? Oh. Right. There are only 24 hours in a day.

Why haven’t you done the laundry yet? Because I hate folding laundry so I procrastinate. Fine, I’ll start now. Maybe.

Why didn’t you go grocery shopping? Because something had to give. And this is why we have a freezer full of leftovers.

What’s wrong with you? Nothing. Nothing at all. But sometimes it’s hard to remind myself of that. Normal everyday to-dos don’t fit into December. And that’s okay. Because December isn’t about to-dos. December is about making space for a crazy crush of family and friends. December is about putting gift-buying ahead of grocery planning. December is about whining to yourself that you don’t have time for another holiday party, pulling on your sequins anyhow, making an appearance, and spending the night laughing with friends.

December is stress. December feels like a pressure cooker deadline at work, but with higher stakes. Because the stakes are about family and friends and love. December is about taking your “productive” time and reallocating it towards things that are more important. What’s more productive than building and nurturing human relationships? Not much, and yet I spent all weekend feeling guilty about the things I wasn’t doing instead of appreciating the things I was.

As of today, I’m done being angry at myself. This weekend, I got to have an intense, late night girl talk conversation while parked in front of my apartment (it was too good to leave and go inside). I got to fall in love with a $12,000 painting and get confused by a $35,000 marginal piece with my father. I got to convince a client (and dear friend) that she’s amazing and deserves the job where she has an interview (she does!). I got to see a friend’s growing baby bump at dinner. And, if I’m really lucky, the rest of December will be packed with even more moments that matter. I have plans literally every night this month, my projects will get neglected, and some nights I will resent my party dresses and the need to get gussied up for another party. But a year from now I won’t care about the projects I didn’t finish or the groceries I didn’t buy. But hopefully, I’ll remember the look on my mother’s face when she opens her Christmas present.

We’ve been having some great conversations about burnout and change and figuring out our next career steps. These conversations are important. It’s so easy to sit in our offices, paralyzed by a toxic mix of fear and despair, with the big bad economy is standing over our shoulder, mocking us for daring to question our luck or hope for something better. And while the economy is truly bad and we may genuinely be lucky, it’s still important to start dreaming of something better. And not daydreaming, in some abstract way, but doing the hard work of building something worthwhile. Of imagining a future we can get excited about, whether that includes a high powered corporate job, a flexible work from home job, or an entrepreneurial start up job. Or something else altogether.

The important part is that we’re talking about it. We’re digging in deep and looking for answers. So as you head into your weekend and continue ruminating about future possibilities, here are a few great articles to keep you thinking, to comfort you, and to inspire you.

We talked about how self control is a critical factor in success. We talked about the marshmallow test and how it was a good predictor of those children’s future success. But we didn’t talk about how self control can be learned. At Get Rich Slowly, they asked the question “Can I change my willpower or am I just born with the willpower that I have?” The great news is that “willpower can be improved. It works like a muscle, so when you exercise it, it gets stronger.” Check out the full article for more information on self-control and specific tips for building willpower.

You can find inspiration and new perspectives anywhere. Julia sent me “How to Love What You Do” from a blog about improving wedding photography, but it’s really about improving the businessperson and everyday person behind the camera. In other words, it’s about becoming great and rediscovering the passion you had all along. And it is amazing. This is just a snippet of Spencer Lum’s insight and I highly suggest you go read more, including a list of immensely helpful advice for how to love what you do.

Professions are like relationships. You run from one to the next in the vain hope that each new job will be the one. And maybe it will be. But maybe it won’t. Either way, you know the cycle. You begin with high hopes and a burst of energy – this time it’s for real – but as the air thins, your breath grows short, and your sprint slows to a jog then a walk, the doubts creep in. Because if there is one thing that every creative knows, it is that wanting to be something is wholly different from actually being that thing.

Maybe the job wasn’t for you. Maybe it wasn’t the one. But maybe it’s the wrong question. If we can spend so much time in this life dedicated to the pursuit of loving what we do, why do we spend so little time dedicated to keeping that love alive?

We are mislead. Happiness doesn’t come when everything is easy. It is not when we make the most money, it is not when we get everything we want. A happy child isn’t the one with the most toys. It is the child who enjoys the toys the most. It is not more, more, more. It is about less, less, less. It is about having purpose, finding who we are, and feeling valuable in doing so. Happiness comes from unconditional actions. Actions of confidence and faith. Of process. We do them with hope and joy, not because they move us up the food chain.

We’ve spent a lot of time in the thick of the hard stuff and the confusing what-next confusion. So it’s always a relief to run across people who have battled with the same angst and come out happy on the other side.

The day you learn that you can be blisteringly unhappy on the back of a boat in the Caribbean after eating shrimp and drinking white wine is the day you stop striving. There’s something grimly comforting in realizing that you can be deeply unsatisfied when you have everything you ever wanted and deeply content even if you’re single, unemployed, and over 30…. it taught me that the inside of my brain informs my entire world – so it doesn’t matter what that external world looks like or what I do. What matters is what I think about what I do. Because you take the inside of your brain everywhere you go.

Cecily at Upper Case Woman writes about reading her daughter Narnia bedtime stories and examining Aslan the lion and the way her perceptions of God have shifted. Although I loved harkening back to when my own mother read me chapters of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, it was her exquisite writing and her mention of standing on the precipice of change that took my breath away.

There are changes coming – again – the edge of the storm is here already, the wind blowing and the rain beginning to wash things clean. Instead of feeling afraid (okay; I’m a little afraid), I mostly feel eager, ready to see what’s next. Mostly.

David Brooks isn’t my favorite columnist at the New York Times. But if you ignore all his other columns and contributions, you should still read his Life Reports. In October, Brooks asked his readers over the age of 70 to send him autobiographical essays evaluating their own lives. The resulting stories are poignant and worth a read for anyone at any stage of life. But for those of us mired in the thick of our life path search, reading these essays is a powerful reminder of what of what a full life looks like, with all its triumphs and failures, with the wisdom that only an end-of-life perspective can illuminate. It reminded me of the big picture, which I needed. Deep breath and all that.

And lastly, I wanted to end with a song that I’ve been playing on a loop all week: James Blake’s cover of Feist’s “Limit to your Love.”  I’m a huge Feist fan, but I like this cover more than the original (great) song. But loving this cover doesn’t mean I like the Feist song any less. Success isn’t competitive. Blake’s creativity built on Feist’s and they each created something worthwhile. Creativity is collaborative. Creativity is a conversation. So this weekend, get out there and share, talk, experience, and grow. And then go create something. Let the words and ideas bounce around in your head. Get inspired. And hopefully have some fun along the way.

What are you best at? What do you enjoy most? Look for jobs that use those skills.

Ah yes. For those of us mired in the hand-wringing “what next? No, really, WHAT NEXT??!!” phase of our lives, people will tell you to look at your natural abilities and interests to help identify a career path. In theory, this sounds great. For someone who likes numbers and people, she might look into personal financial planning or accounting. For someone who loves athletic activity and health, she might look into personal training, nutrition or coaching. For someone who loves helping people and is a great counselor, she might become a social worker. For someone who loves making things, she might open an etsy shop and market her handmade crafts and art. And so on. It sounds so simple and obvious, right?

Except it’s a little too simple. Beyond the challenges inherent in completely changing career paths, this approach ignores the challenges for those of us blessed with many talents and interests. I know, boo hoo, I should throw myself a pity party and not expect anyone to join me. But hear me out, because I think this sort of advice can just as easily steer someone in the wrong direction. Because that’s what happened to me.

I’ve always burned with a passion to Change the World and do Huge Important Things. In college, I decided that the best way to change the world was to focus on public policy and politics. It turned out that my analyst and communication skills helped me thrive and get great grades. And being great felt good. And so I threw myself into a career in public policy, since it seemed an ideal mix of my natural talents and interests. I ended up with my dream job, doing important world changing projects.

But somewhere along the way it stopped being my dream and not only because of burnout. It’s because my natural abilities and interests steered me wrong. I’ve finally begin to realize, after nearly seven years in this field, that I do not want to be working in public policy. And that’s because the compliments and positive feedback aren’t enough to compensate for how profoundly wrong I find the day-to-day reality of regulatory and policy work. I may be good at policy and grant writing and excel analysis, but I don’t want to base my life around it. Even if it’s important. Even if it uses my natural skills and comes easily to me.

We all like to feel accomplished. We all like to be good at our jobs. We all like the sense of satisfaction for a job well done. And for a long time, I thrived on those feelings. But those feelings – that positive feedback from teachers and bosses and clients – led me to think I was actually enjoying myself when I wasn’t. And somehow, along the way, I ended up with a job full of tasks I don’t really like. All the compliments in the world can’t counteract my workday dread.

I’ve learned that talents can masquerade as passion and that I can’t trust my interests to guide my job search. I may love writing, but I don’t want to be a professional writer with all the stress that freelance writing can bring. I’m great at marketing but have no interest in doing it full time. I love teaching, but I don’t think I’d love dealing with public school bureaucracy (or the current job insecurity). I’m second guessing myself at every turn. My instincts are broken. I didn’t just take a wrong turn, I threw myself into it with gusto and came out lost.

That doesn’t mean that the job search is hopeless, but that the exercises in my career change books haven’t been all that helpful. It also doesn’t mean that the last seven years on this career track were a waste. Somewhere along the way I began to identify snippets of my day that bring me genuine pleasure. I tried – and discarded – enough hobbies to learn something important about myself. I’m learning to shut out all praise to try and pay attention to the parts of my day I enjoy most, even if they don’t seem job-description worthy or don’t feel very prestigious or important. Although it’s hard to acknowledge I may want something that falls outside the mainstream, it’s been even harder to work through the self-doubt born from broken dreams.

While I still want to tell career advice resources to take their colored parachute and jump out of a plane, I’m slowly learning to listen to myself.  But it’s not actually abilities and talents that led me here. Instead, I broke myself so badly that I’ve been left piecing together truths from the shattered remnants of my expectations. But for the first time, I’m starting to see truths in the wreckage, and that makes all the difference in the world.

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