Michele Woodward

Powerful Coaching. Powerful Results.

coping

Maybe You’re An Anxious Striver

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Years ago I learned something from my friend Jen Louden. It’s her idea of “Conditions of Enoughness”. Basically, it’s deciding before you set out to do anything what “enough” will feel like, so you know when you’re done.

I thought of this brilliant concept recently when hearing people talk about their drive for constant improvement. It occurred to me that constant improvement could actually be a bad thing.

Like, how you remove minute parts of a knife everytime you sharpen it. And, if you persist in sharpening the edge, at some point the knife loses its structural integrity and becomes a wisp of a thing rather than the sharp thing it once was.

I was reflecting on people who are what I call “anxious strivers”. The kinds of folks who are driven to go-go-go and do-do-do. Who only eat foods which have a point – their diet exists merely to provide protein, minerals, and “good fats”. They only read books which will improve their lives. Every spare minute is devoted to Doing Something In Service To Something Else.

Joy has very little role in their lives.

I have to ask, though: When you live in pursuit of constant improvement, when do you know how to stop? When do you know what enough is like? Because of the relentless “constant” in “constant improvement”, are you putting yourself on a hamster wheel that never stops and calling it exemplary performance?

Perhaps then, rather than constant improvement, we need to think about simply having clear goals and working to meet them. In that context, the questions become more like: How did I do yesterday? Do I need to do something differently than yesterday to reach my goal? Is it enough to keep doing what I’m doing and stay on this path I’ve set? Does this feel like enough yet?

That’s not to say stop learning. To stop incorporating your learning into your actions. I would never say that, because I’m a learner through and through.

I am suggesting that anxious striving, never knowing what enoughness looks like, never doing something just for the fun of it, sharpening your edge until you have nothing left… this is the recipe for burnout and unhappiness and, oddly enough, ultimately leads to a lack of real, meaningful progress.

Making It Through The Chaos and Noise

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I saw my friend Nancy at a party the other night. After the obligatory, “Oh, it’s been too long!” and “You look great!” and “How are your kids?”, she said:

“Michele, you used to write your blog every week. Every Sunday I looked forward to hearing from you and getting a little insight and inspiration. What happened?”

Nancy said what’s been in my own mind. I started writing you all in 2006. Every week – every week for over ten years. It has been a very big part of what I do. And for some reason, I just stopped doing it.

I got into 2017 and felt myself sputter. I mean, over more than ten years hadn’t I said everything that needed saying?

Then, too, I started experimenting with longer posts on Facebook to great results. (If we’re not friends there, you can find me here.) So my writing needs felt somewhat satisfied.

But not totally.

The Wise Nancy said, “Michele, write about transitions. Write about dealing with the chaos we find ourselves in. Write about change, and coping with all the craziness. Write about that.”

Which is somewhat ironic because I have found myself in the same transition Nancy’s feeling. And I bet you’re feeling it, too. How could you not?

I used to think about transition in a very linear way – you started here, traveled a bit, then found yourself there. Finally, blessedly, relieve-adly there.

But now I see transition in a different way. It’s a bunch of stuff going on all at once. Different starting points, different middles, different endings, simultaneously.

You could be a person who’s sending a youngest child off to school while changing jobs while guiding an elderly loved one through hospice while starting a healthier routine while settling into a new house and getting marriage counseling.

Am I right?

And rather than there being a definite end point where you can breathe a sigh of relief and say, “Woosh. Glad that’s done” you end up saying, “OK, done. What’s next on my plate?”

Right again?

My best advice to you if you are human and dealing with the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, as Shakespeare would say, is to appreciate that a continual loop of  beginnings, middles and endings is the nature of our existence. It’s living.

Rather than resist, or pretend that it’s not happening by sticking your fingers in your ears while muttering “nanna nanna nanna, I can’t hear you!”, why not get curious? Ask yourself what there is to learn at this point of the process. Learn whatever it is. Then find the way to love that you are on a distinctly human journey, accompanied by other people on their own human journey.

You can call it transition if you want – but really what it is… is living.

 

In Memory Of Those Gone

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Medal of HonorI read the obituaries every day.

Not because I’m morbid and want to encourage the feeling of impending doom, but because a well-written obituary is a great story.

And to read a story of a life well-lived is to honor that life, in some small way.

So, yeah, I read obituaries and I say a little thank you to the person who’s gone… a thank you for being a doctor and a cheesemaker, or a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist turned professor, or a Medal of Honor winner who continued to help veterans for thirty years after his service ended.

It was appropriate that the last story, honoring the life of Sergeant Vernon McGarity, appeared in The Washington Post on Memorial Day weekend and, noting the timing, I took a slow and careful read through his obituary. Here’s the piece if you’d like to read it:

Vernon McGarity, World War II veteran who received the Medal of Honor, dies at 91 by Emily Langer

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be tested like Sergeant McGarity was.

I wonder what it would be like to be in a battle where the American forces suffered 89,500 casualties including 19,000 killed, 47,500 wounded and 23,000 missing. Would I stand up like Sergeant McGarity and fight for my squad with grit and tenacity, regardless of the personal consequence? Would I – could I – do it?

And to then spend time in a prisoner of war camp? In winter? For the duration of the war?

To be honest, I don’t know that any of us who’ve not been tested in that way know what we’d do if the moment came, but in reading Vernon McGarity’s story, I saw an example of what’s possible when someone stands up and shows up.

I saw a path through any kind of challenge:

Do what needs to be done under whatever circumstances you find yourself in.

The Post story says, “Reflecting on the battle years later, Sgt. McGarity told an interviewer, ‘The last words I heard were to hold at all costs.'”

And so that’s what he did. He held.

Against all odds.

Without regard to personal cost.

With the highest distinction.

And adherence to integrity.

Sergeant Vernon McGarity did what needed to be done. Just as our men and women in uniform have done for centuries in this country, and are doing this very day.

“‘Next time we feel like giving up, we’ll remember Vernon McGarity,’ reads the Checkerboard tribute,” the Washington Post reports, quoting a 1970 tribute by the 99th Infantry Division’s publication. “‘Next time we think we have an impossible job, with nothing but trouble and no hope of recognition, we’ll remember Vernon McGarity — he proved that we can win by coming back for more.’ ”

Yes, indeed.

To all who serve, and who have served, and the families that love and support them… thank you. You live lives that matter – to all of us.

 

The New Rules of Work – Part 1

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The rules of work have changed. And if you’re still operating under the old rules, you will fail.

Got your attention, have I?

The Old Rules

The old rules went something like this:  you take a job in a hierarchical, structured, stable organization with a solid bricks and mortar business model –  and stay there for thirty-plus years, moving up the ladder and getting pay raises according to the rules, until you retire with a pension and benefits provided by the kindly Big Daddy that is the company.

The New Rules

No job is secure. You can expect to change careers five to seven times in the course of your life. You can be laid off from any job at any time. Your CEO can be fired at any time. Your company’s products or services can become outmoded and obsolete in the blink of an eye. You will not have a pension. You might not even have a employer match to your retirement account contributions. You might not get health insurance through an employer.

Nothing is certain.  Nothing is sure.

In today’s uncertain work world, there’s only one way to cope.

And it might be a challenge to wrap your head around.  Ready?

Today, to be successful, you have to be a freelancer.

I’m not saying to quit your job and start your own gig.  Although, 40 million Americans have done precisely that.   I’m suggesting that you operate from the liberating mindset of being a freelance consultant.  “I’m here, I’m doing the work, I’m succeeding – until I’m not, and then I’ll move on to something else.”

A freelance mindset alleviates a lot of problems.  Like caring too much.

Now I’m sure I have your attention.

I have had clients who have been so immersed and over-involved with their work that they have had to be hospitalized for exhaustion.  I have had people come to me after being fired from a job they loved – and astounded that the organization could go on without them.

But it can.  It does.  It will.

Plenty of us over-identify with our work.  Work becomes Who We Are, rather than letting who and what we love be Who We Are.  Coming at your job the way a freelance consultant would – committed, connected, productive, slightly detached – allows you a little breathing room.  Enough breathing room to have a life.

When you think, “Geez, I am going to have to be in this job for thirty years, I better play it safe,” guess what you do?  You play it safe.  You work to CYA rather than create.  You move slowly, cautiously.

Maybe you even walk on eggshells around your boss, because you can’t risk losing your job.

Because you have to be there for thirty years, right?

When I’m a freelancer and you’re a freelancer and the boss is a freelancer and we all know that we are here until we’re not – collaboration can happen more easily.  Office politics diminish.  Productivity soars.

Because we take some of the emotion out, and replace it with a little bit of detachment. We can dare to risk.  We can challenge each other to create.

Freelancers are always looking out for the next assignment, the next gig, the next thing.  My pal Pam Slim recommends having a “side hustle” – that thing you have going on the side, that – if push comes to shove – you could turn into your job.  Like my sister-in-law who is a teacher and has a high school reunion planning business.  Which is the side hustle?  Guess it depends on the day you ask her.  🙂

Under the new rules of work, when even teachers, government workers and people at IBM are losing their jobs, having a viable side hustle keeps you from walking on eggshells.  Because, people, with a side hustle all your eggs are not invested in one tiny little basket of a job.

If you’re in a toxic work environment, if you’re not happy, if you are stuck – what you’ve got to do is simple.  Realize that the rules have changed, and go with it.  Become a freelancer in your mind, and watch your attitude at work change.  Then, watch your work change.