Breaking Through

Sometimes it feels as though the hard things are hard and the easy things are hard, and that you're never going to make any progress at all. After all, shouldn't hard work and desire and general aptitude make most things possible? Isn't that what we were taught growing up? Learn what you're supposed to learn, and keep at it, and you'll make it, whatever and wherever "it" is.
 
But some days, it feels as though all the general aptitude in the world just can't keep up fast enough with the world. Sometimes it feels as though everything you've learned has somehow become worthless when you turned your back for an instant. Sometimes it feels as though it will take a lot more "sticking with it" than you have the energy for.
 
Luckily, sometimes, there is a breakthrough. Some piece of a task that suddenly clicks. A new view of a situation that reminds you that you know more than you think. A long-lost item that gets found in the search. A person who reminds you that the aptitude is still there. It's just resting up for a "need to know" mission.
 
Sometimes, when you least expect it, there is a breakthrough. It's not always easy to hang in for. It often comes far beyond the time in which you would have given up. But it is possible, and it's real, and it can be what keeps you going until the next one.
 
I have almost given up, a few times this week, and too many times to count over the years. I have almost given up on jobs, on home improvement, on teaching my kids something I want them to know. But I've seen it happen--that "ding" of breakthrough, that little thought bubble of "aha!" So I'm hanging in. Staying in the game until that breakthrough comes.

How're You Doing?

How many times a day do you ask or answer that question? How many times do you really know what you're asking, and how many times do you really know what's being asked? And how many times do you really want to hear the answer?
 
Is it "How're you doing?" meaning "Is this a good time?" or "How're you doing?" because you look a little under the weather, or "How're you doing?" because a person would like to say more than "Hi" but less than "How has your day been so far?"
 
And what about the answer? Is the answer to "How're you doing?" "Great!" because you want to appear happy to a boss or a friend or a stranger, or "Okay, I guess," because there's so much okay and not okay stuff swirling in your head that you're not sure, or "Not so great today," when you really want to vent a little?
 
The truth is, "How're you doing" can go any which way, for the asker and the askee. As I said to a co-worker today, in an exchange of "How're you doing?" that went in all possible directions, it's rare that the answer to "How're you doing?" is ever perfect on all fronts at the same time. When work is going well, it's the kids, when the kids are doing you proud, it's that nasty fall cold, and when you are perfectly healthy, and even well-rested, there is inevitably a work situation ready to put a monkey wrench in all of it.
 
So, go ahead, ask "How're you doing?" It's a bit friendlier than "Hi," and much more concise than "Tell me about your life." Just be prepared for what you hear--the answer just might surprise you.

One Day Only, Hours Left, Ends Tonight

My inbox is full of them--reminders that I can save, but only for a limited time, that I can make all my friends and relatives happy at the holidays, but only if I act now, and that I must make time in my schedule to shop online, in-store, but most of all, TODAY.
 
There are some among these many emails that I automatically delete--stores whose list I am on because I shopped there once or entered a contest once or simply fell into the chain of online marketing. But each day, there are also many that catch my attention--might that be an unusual gift for that hard to buy for someone? And at 20 or 30 or 50 percent off, how can I go wrong, right?
 
So, each morning, as the emails fly in, I consider. I plan. I use far more than my available time and brain space to think about how I will act on them. And then I go about my day, which most of the time leaves no time for any of it, and before I know it, I have missed the "one day only," even with the multiple reminders of "hours left."
 
I could just delete them all each day. I could limit myself to saving just a few, so that I might have a fighting chance of acting on any, instead of being overwhelmed by many. But somehow, whether I use them or not, whether I simply delete them in a mass elimination effort at the end of the week, I like having them there. I like believing that if I act, I will get a deal or a bargain or the perfect item for someone on my list. And I like knowing that I have a time limit to do it, even if I end up on the wrong side of that time limit at least 80 percent of the time (now THAT would be a nice discount).
 
Today was no different--I missed an "extra 15% off--last day" and a "35% off--15 hours only." What can I say? Life gets in the way, and other deadlines tend to outweigh those.
 
Not to worry--my inbox will be full again tomorrow, and as for the "limited time only"? I am quite sure it will start all over again.

What If? And What Is.

I made my way to work, same as always. (Okay, it's not actually always the same, as I throw in errands and detours and parent responsibilities almost every day. But I digress). So--as I made my way to work, not quite the same as ever (ahh, that's better), I found myself noticing new buildings, and wondering what it would be like to work in those buildings (the work perhaps being totally different than what I do now) and signs for new stores, and wondering how my path might change with the opening of those new stores (in some glorious expanse of free time that wasn't accompanied by a depressing expanse of no income). Suddenly, a trip to work became a trip into my imagination, an exercise in "what would happen if..." Why, I wonder, when we work so hard to achieve normalcy--an almost unattainable goal, as a parent or as a working person--do we find ourselves so curious about change?
 
I continued heading to work, where much was normal. I faced the normal challenges, inserted my own creative voice when necessary (sometimes) and my own efficient pace when appropriate (pretty much always). And in the midst of the "normalcy," I fielded calls and emails to handle the breaks in normalcy from the other parts of my life. And I realized how "okay" my normalcy was. While the imagination journey, my walk of "what if?" on my way to work, had been freeing, my day of relative normalcy was actually freeing as well. We can't help wondering "what if." Wondering keeps our eyes and ears and mind open, and that is rarely a bad thing. But in the midst of all that imagination, the normalcy of where we are now can be freeing too--freeing us to manage what is never a normal life, freeing us to enjoy seeing that we can do what is needed, freeing us by letting us work with people who have come to understand and appreciate us.
 
There's nothing wrong with imagining--it keeps us one step closer to whatever may come our way, and that much more alert in what we're dealing with now. But while we go freeing our minds to imagine "what if," it's not a bad idea once in a while to enjoy--and appreciate--a little bit of "what is."

An Unbalanced Balance

After several last minute school tours (you don't get the "first minute" ones unless you sign up immediately, and, alas, life got in the way of that), we took a deep breath and turned in our "school choice" form. "Choice" here is a relative term, but it is a step in the process, not the last step, but a big one, and we took it.
 
And then I went to work.
 
What we had done seemed monumental--the culmination of research and visits and discussions and (at least for me) angst. And yet, when it was over, I was editing as though nothing had changed, having conversations about current affairs as if nothing had changed, celebrating and bemoaning the same things as always, as if nothing had changed.
 
I guess that's the blessing and the curse of working. Had I been home, I might have been able to think about the process or our choices all day, but surrounded by work colleagues who likely had no interest or investment in the process I had just completed (and why should they?), all I could do was shelve my thoughts and do my work.  At times, that felt like a sad thing. Had I been home, I might have ended up stewing or second-guessing all day, but surrounded by the responsibilities of work, I had little time or brain space for stewing or second-guessing. All I could do was shelve my stewing and do my work. And maybe that was a good thing.
 
Every day, we make personal choices that may affect how we work but can't affect how we are at work. I guess that is just part of the balance--being able to hold the personal strongly enough in our minds that even when we have to put it aside for the professional, we never really let it go. And concentrating enough on the professional that we allow it, when we need, to give us a little relief from the second-guessing of the personal. Most of the time, it is an unbalanced balance, and yet, we manage.
 
I have hope that when the results of our choice form arrive many months from now, I will still be working. (For a person who has been out of work--ever--that is generally the goal). And when that day comes, I will once again face the unbalanced balance. The same way I do now.

What Do I?

What do I listen to--what my kids want, or what I believe is good for them?
 
What do I look for--the best, or the best fit?
 
What do I respond to--the importance, or the money?
 
What do I see--the upside, or the downsides?
 
What do I hear--what other people think, or what matters to me?
 
What do I strive for--accomplishment, or simplicity?
 
What do I aspire to--parent of the year, or just the best person I can be for today?
 
What do I understand--only what is in front of me, or what the things I can't see will mean?
 
What do I feel--exhilarated, challenged, or overwhelmed?
 
What do I choose--what seems right right now, or what will still be right, even if things change?
 
What do I know--what will check all the boxes, or what will make people happy?
 
What do I listen to--the noise all around, or the stillness within myself?
 
How will I know what's right--or do I just accept not knowing?
 
When will I learn--or does learning come after the listening and the seeing and the feeling and the understanding, mostly when it's much too late?
 
What do I do?
 
What I can. Because that is all any of us can do.

Women of a Certain Age

Several years ago, shortly after my time at ABC had ended, I met a longtime friend--one of those friends you may rarely see but who seems to understand you anyway--to talk about my next steps. As she had also changed jobs several times, each job seeming (at least to me) more interesting than the last, I figured she would have good advice to give.
 
"Have coffee," she said. "Almost anyone is willing to take the time it takes for a cup of coffee to share his or her experiences with you." I have had many cups of coffee since then.
 
"Talk to lots of women your age," she added. Now, for all the years I'd been working, I'd never thought much about age. I had worked with people both older and younger than I, and I'd spent far more time considering how they did their jobs than how old they were or where they were in their careers. So, to seek out women my own age was kind of a new concept. I tried, I think, though in reality, I probably focused more on people's jobs than on their ages or places in life.
 
Yet, this weekend, as I found myself in email exchanges with four "women my age," (more about schools for our kids than about jobs for ourselves) simultaneously, I thought back to what my friend had said. There was, I could feel, this underlying shared experience, an understanding about a place in our lives, both as women and as parents, that made the dialogue so simple, and yet incredibly satisfying. In that moment, I somehow finally understood what my friend had proposed all those years ago. We "women of a certain age" feel what it is like to be accomplished, yet always potentially on the cusp of having to start over. We share a feeling of being young daily, but perhaps older than we thought when we have a birthday. We share that feeling of being seasoned parents still coming up against parenting situations that challenge us. We understand because we have "been there," or at least come awfully close. It's not that we can't communicate with and learn from the older and the younger. There are always things to be learned. It's simply that we can have a shorthand that helps us get to the learning a little more quickly.
 
So, today, I give thanks to, and for, all those "women of a certain age" who make my life easier, more interesting, and, let's face it, a whole lot more fun.