In 2015 I was at a crossroads in my life. For the first time in my adult years, I was at a standstill in my career and was uncertain as to my next steps. I came across an essay contest "What single decision changed your life?" and decided to share my story. It was my first time as an adult entering a writing contest. I had never even written a personal piece before, as all my writing to that point had been work related.
It wasn't chosen for any awards, but I believe it was helpful for me to write during this soul-searching time in my life. While looking through files today, I came across this article and enjoyed remembering where I was at the time, both physically and emotionally. Seven years ago when I wrote this, I had no idea that my adventure would continue with me moving cross-country to live full-time in Washington, the place I was visiting while I searched my soul and wrote from my heart. In fact, I started this blog soon after, and the header photo is from that trip to Mt. Rainier National Park. I've taken better photos since then but can't bring myself to change an image that was from such an impactful time in my life.
I found time for myself during this visit to Mt. Rainier National Park.
As humans, we're continuously evolving. We learn from our own experiences and those of others we know or meet along the way though life's journeys. As I read this piece from seven years ago, I remember that time, remember how I felt; and I can see how I have grown over the years. The time in my life that I shared in this piece was profound and life-altering for me. I took a risk and was simultaneously proud of my hard work and the sacrifices I made while feeling utterly exhausted from the toll it took on me. Even to this day, I find it easier to focus on things I might have done differently instead of celebrating the successes. That experience changed the trajectory of my life and gave me a new perspective, especially when I was free from the stress and able to consider everything with a more rational mind.
Through these decisions and the years following, I have learned to be kind to myself and to prioritize my physical, emotional, mental and spiritual health. As a driven, Type A person, I am continuously learning how to find balance, to slow down and to accept less than perfection. I am slowly learning to be a better listener, to hear without judgement and to allow others the freedom to make their own choices without interjecting my opinions. When I was in the firestorm of reviving a struggling nonprofit, I felt like I had to have all the answers. I have learned that's not true. Instead, I can seek out and learn from the experts around me.
This period in my life was a defining moment, leaving me forever changed. I'm grateful for the opportunity I had to follow my passions, to commit to something so fully, and ultimately to find myself.
From 2015:
I like control. Call me rigid, obsessed or even a puppet master if you must, but I find life way too unsettling when I don’t have everything planned and organized. It’s as if my world is spiraling out of control if I’m not in charge, and I must hold on tight to maintain order.
My life might not have stood out as awe-worthy or exciting, but I had a good job – as an event planner, go figure – and a great husband with two adorable pups. Life was more than pleasant. It was a happy, settled and secure life.
And then, amidst my busy schedule, which mostly revolved around work, I decided to give back. Just a day – a few hours, really – to help manage a small event for an animal rescue. I didn’t know much about the organization, only that some friends of mine had volunteered there before and they needed someone to help promote adoptable pets. It was on that Saturday that my carefully planned world began to shift.
“I don’t have much time,” I told the Executive Director during the event while I volunteered, contemplating if I could serve on a more regular basis. “I might be able to walk dogs 30 minutes here and there but my schedule simply won’t allow for more.”
But life evolves and we prioritize, and we squeeze out time that never existed before. And my “maybe 30 minutes” turned into hours each week, a seat on the Board of Directors, the vice presidency. There was no time for volunteering in my busy, work-focused life, but somehow my heart melted around the homeless pets and created the time. My soul found refreshment during my long walks and runs on the animal sanctuary’s nature trail, leash in hand. The advocate in me – a part I never knew existed – found satisfaction in helping to grow an organization whose mission mirrored my own. And my tenuous grasp on my future plans, my grip, previously white-knuckled for fear of letting go and losing control, my hold around my preciously guarded expectations began to loosen. My world quickly changed and I was simply along for the ride. Me, the planner, the organizer. That one-time offer to help a few homeless pets find forever families changed my heart so profoundly that I could no longer accept the future I had planned. My job was now just that – a job. And it was getting in the way of my passion and my mission.
And so, with my husband's career affording me financial security, I made the decision to cut back my work hours. I hired an assistant so I could go part-time, allowing me the chance to spend time with the animals, retain some semblance of a life outside of work, while staying firmly rooted to the plan. To continue on my career path but allow room for altruism. Only, some jobs simply cannot be part-time, and mine was one of them. What began as a simple acceptance to help with a one-time event turned into a much larger decision – keep my planned career and secure future or jump into the unknown to follow my passions. I wouldn’t settle for the plan any longer because it no longer fulfilled me. I was transformed into a person who allowed her heart to dominate over practicality. I was more than my professional aptitude and experience. I had a mission, and it was all-consuming. I took a giant leap and jumped.
I expected to find a half-time job where I could truly leave work at work and devote my remaining hours to animal welfare, but life seldom happens as planned when you’re on a free fall. Soon after I resigned my events position, the animal rescue’s Executive Director stepped down and I found myself as its new leader.
This was my chance to truly make a difference, and it was the most difficult challenge I had ever faced. It wasn’t part of my original plan, the one where my education led to a career in events and communications. Where my responsibilities and rank continued to grow in the industry. No, this was a new direction that forced me to utilize everything I had to tackle a project that was much larger than I. What I didn’t know, I learned. I was the hero and the villain, the one who bore the brunt of it all and had to make the tough decisions to help the organization get back on track so I could leave it better than when I first started.
I never saw this role as a long-term one, though I’m not sure why my ambition was satisfied with this as being only a temporary position. I longed to help turnaround the organization I loved, which was struggling as most nonprofits post Great Recession. To get it back on solid ground so that a new leader could then grow its capacity for serving the community. I poured my heart into the organization, working more hours than existed in a day. My health suffered as I stressed over finances and emergency planning and staff resources. But during the pains of recovery and growth, I felt pride. Pride for an organization beginning to blossom with a solid foundation and strong staff team. And pride for allowing myself to let go of the plan and take on the challenge of rebuilding a nonprofit organization. For stepping into the unknown, at the risk of failure, in order to try.
Now, two years after taking the plunge, I find myself in a new unknown. I have stepped down as leader of the nonprofit I love, handing over the reins to a very capable colleague who will continue to strengthen the organization. I’m at another crossroads, this one even more unnerving than before because for once in my life I have no plan or even a direction. And while part of this control-loving and uptight mind still cringes, and at times I find myself questioning my worth and purpose without direction to guide me, I’m OK with where I am. Because sometimes you have to let go of your plan and see where life takes you.
I’m in Washington now, finding my soul in the Pacific Northwest on long, solo hikes while my husband summits the state’s tallest mountain. The heady pine scent and refreshing cool summer breeze seeps into my bones, soothing my sense of inadequacy and quietening my anxious spirit. And while I still have no solid career plan, I have reached some conclusions that help this control freak feel a bit more purposeful during this transition of life. It’s OK to do what you love. It’s OK to step outside of what is expected and to make your own path. I consider the guides whose skills enable outdoor enthusiasts to safely summit the challenging Mt. Rainier. Sure, these men and women receive monetary compensation for their expertise and time, but they make concessions to accept this seasonal, temporary job. In order to do what they love, they live life in limbo, working as a guide during the summer, then going to whatever state they call home to piece together work for the remainder of the year so they can return next summer to start again. It’s not a traditional profession but it’s a heartfelt, passionate choice to accept the challenges that come with a career you love.
Life is the collection of decisions, some we expect and have the time to ponder. Others that surprise us and take us down a path we never expected. While the clichéd “life is precious, make it count” battles my practical “plan ahead” mentality, I find that somewhere in the middle is where the peaceful tension lies. It’s a valuable push and pull that challenges us to work hard, plan for tomorrow, but enjoy today. It’s wise to plan, but don’t let that plan dictate your life. Sometimes a free fall into the unknown is just what we need to find meaning and satisfaction. It’s worth the risk.
Comments