I remember thinking of it as a revelation, and a relief. “He’s Just
Not That Into You,” a book finally giving women
everywhere permission to stop the all-consuming, endless cycle of analysis, the
elaborate maze of mythical excuses love struck ladies conjure up for the
oh-so-desirable date who displays inconsistent and tepid interest. The authors
say there is no magical moment when a woman decides to face this truth, only
that she becomes tired of it all and decides she wants something better for herself. Love shouldn’t be this
hard.
Work shouldn’t be this hard, either. At first
I confuse it with growing pains. I’m in a
new job. It is normal, I tell myself, to
feel off kilter, a bit like I’m walking on marbles. I should expect to be thrown into new
situations and forced to improvise, to figure it out as I go. I’m not
going to get it right all the time. It will
be messy. I train myself to be alright
with this.
And so I over think it all. I wear out my sounding boards. My
thirst for validation cannot be quenched. I say “yes” too
quickly. I wonder if the word “no” is
anywhere to be found in my lexicon. I wake up in the middle of the night, over
successive nights, sweat rolling down my back. Not because I’m afraid
of failing, I discover, but because I’m afraid
of being found out.
I am a rule follower, and so I don’t
immediately recognize the dissidence I feel. I find myself struggling as I’m being
asked to make bigger, more impactful, riskier decisions. At first I think it’s because
I’m not
experienced enough. Until the reality becomes impossible to ignore: I have plenty of experience, I just don’t believe
in what we’re doing.
I’m reminded of a poem called "Good
Bones" by Maggie Smith. She wants to shield her children from the awful truths
about life, to somehow push the promise of this world we live in. She writes
of a realtor taking prospects through a dismal property. It’s got
good bones, she quips, and you could make this place beautiful.
I believe we can make dismal beautiful. In some ways I may
have a spent a career doing just that. But in order to achieve it we have to see
the promise. We have to look past
what meets the eye and focus on the structure underneath. And when the good bones just aren’t there,
instead of pounding our heads against the wall or standing at the door that
just won’t open,
we need to cut our losses and move on. Years of time in the business world (and
in therapy) have taught me to trust my gut. I recognize good bones quickly.
I want the freedom to cut my losses so I have the time to work on what shows promise. I want a chance to exercise all I have learned about
leadership, inspiration, building a vision and making whatever I touch
beautiful. I ask myself a question that has ebbed and flowed over the course of
the past five years: My responsibilities
demand me to be windward to fear for causes I’m not
passionate about. What will it take for
me to channel all of this energy and experience into work for causes I believe
in?
Exhaustion, pure and simple.
This is the conclusion I come to.
I’m just plain
tired of an emotional investment netting so little return. For a brief time I
think maybe I can just care less. Yet, this, the caring part, is what makes me
extraordinary. And so I decide my energy needs to go to other places. It’s
exciting and it’s scary all at the same time. I
don’t know
what it will look like or how it will unfurl. All I know is that it needs to happen because I want something better for myself.
I want to make this place beautiful.
