Category: Knowing yourself

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Accountability Happiness Knowing yourself Productivity Self-management

Here’s What Smart People Know That the Latest Fads, Diets and Lifestyles Don’t

You can eat fat by the pails of lard now, but no carbs. Or try an all-meat diet. Or just eat raw veggies. I have never understood diets. Or “lifestyles” as diets are now called. These days you’re not on a diet, you change your lifestyle. No longer are you buying into a temporary act, but a permanent change.

Ever notice how every diet has a detailed system for you to follow? Complexity is added so that a product is new and novel to the customer. The result is the answer. That thing you’ve been missing. You just didn’t know the right rules to follow.

I have a better lifestyle for you. It can be boiled down to one word, and that word is not FAT, MEAT, or RAW. This is a special word, a magic system that not only serves as a recipe for what you eat, but a playbook for how to live your life. This single word? The only rule you’ll ever need? This passphrase that unlocks decades of research you’ve never read? It’s moderation. Oh, so boring right? You probably think you’ve tried moderation before. That you gave it a fair shot and moderation did nothing for you. But you’d be wrong.

Moderation comes from the Latin “moderare” which means “to control.” It avoids excess and extremes, and encourages a life in the middle. Synonyms for moderate include self-restraint, self-control, self-command, and self-discipline. Which explains why we avoid moderation like the plague; we possess none of those things.

Moderation Over Time
Source: Google.

Back to food, the number of choices on what to eat alone are mind-boggling. The grocery store is a veritable jungle of sights and tastes and nutritional value competing for a place in our bodies and minds.

With so much choice, it’s no wonder we turn to diets – er, lifestyles – to reduce the number of decisions we have to make. Doesn’t it make it easier? Aren’t we special? So we believe. But the limits of one only encourage the excess of another. And the yo-yo-ing between these two extremes can be nauseating.

Under the facade of science, we tweak these lifestyles to ever-more detailed minutiae. Now add acai! Now subtract lactose! Armed with such complex rules the next time you open the fridge, you feel control. You’ve got this nut figured out. (Wait, can you eat nuts?)

But make as many food substitutions as you’d like, external rules will never be a replacement for your own self-discipline. Here’s the thing. You already know everything you need to be successful. Take a breath. You know the choices to make. We fill our time with personal development books and new tomes on eating and the latest green smoothie recipe because we don’t trust ourselves, maybe don’t even like ourselves. (And hey, that’s a good instinct to have; companies are now spending millions and billions of dollars perfecting the addictive crunch of a chip until the whole bag is gone, the auto-play of the next episode until you’ve watched the entire season, the notification alert until all of your time is spent.)

We do need rules, tricks and defenses to put up against the new, the shiny, the distractions, the temptations – even if those are couched in kale and productivity. Extremes are extremes, no matter which end of the spectrum they lie. So break out your arsenal. Just be careful you aren’t trading one extreme for another. Don’t fear one extreme so much that you live under the supposed protection of another. When in doubt, eat a donut.

Moderation is a simple concept. There is nothing that cannot be moderated. Your actions, your desires and thoughts can all live by one simple rule, one magic system. But we don’t do it. I think that’s because moderation is not fun in the moment. But smart people know moderation need not exist in every moment, only over time. The moments stacked one on top of another become a fortress against the latest fads, diets and lifestyles. All good things come over time.

So the next time someone asks you, instead of saying you’re “fasting” or “juicing,” just say you’re “moderating.” People might chuckle, roll their eyes in exasperation, or secretly be glad they know the latest research that you are clearly unaware. But keep trucking on, eating your your cheese and your beans and your brussel sprouts and your chocolate almonds, and f*cking enjoy your life.

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Accountability Creativity Knowing yourself

The past couple weeks have been weird

The past couple weeks have been… weird. I started blogging again this Summer like I always do, with renewed energy, but also — this time seemed different. I have been intermittent writing over the years for a myriad of reasons, from keeping quiet while in certain jobs to not having an interesting life. But my blog has always been that space on the Internet and in life that was mine, a place to be fully expressed. These are my guts on a page, or screen, as it is, and I like scooping them all up to make sense of it all.

So, anyway, this time seemed different. I sensed it. Ryan sensed it. I had commitment and dedication I haven’t felt in a long time. And I still feel that way, which is why it was all the more disappointing when I didn’t write last week. Part of the deal I made to myself was to write every week, or at the very least, be in touch with you guys once a week. But last week had several things going on that a normal week does not; there was an event, extra tasks, a trip out of town, and before I knew it, I was deeply upset for not keeping this super-important-this-time-is-different-commitment-to-myself.

In the past if I missed a week posting, that would quickly devolve into such levels disappointment, I would move on to something else. This isn’t working, I would tell myself, time to do something else. This isn’t working, you aren’t cut out for this. This isn’t working, go make money like normal people. And move on I would.

But.

I’m not taking actions based on fear right now. Truth be told, I’m rocking the commitments right now. And I want to share about that process later, but a big part of it is I ask myself, what are you going to do when shit goes wrong? And my answer is to cry, feel down, ask Why? What happened?, reassess, align. Get back in the f*cking saddle. It’s all important to recovery. But the biggest is to revel in being human. A human with control issues, yes, but mortal nonetheless.

Then we left for our weekend trip. What is it about road trips? The long, deep conversations, the gazing off far in the distance, the gas station peeks into the middle of America. The blanketing of peace, all under the open sky. You are not larger than yourself. You just are.

This tiny break opened all sorts of depths. I came up with an idea for a new personal project, a variation on something I had been working out, rolling between my two fingers, and I am excited about it. REALLY EXCITED GUYS! There’s alignment. And shit is crazy scary. There’s a precipice; I’m there on the edge, and I like it.

Told you. These couple weeks: weird. And wonderful.

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Knowing yourself Personal branding Relationships Self-management Women

What’s In a Name? Feminism After Marriage

I did not take the decision lightly to take my husband’s name. Many people were surprised (because here, here, here, here and here). But I have always known I would change my name, painful as it was to drop my maiden name Thorman, and its matriarchal lineage.

In my family, the women are the strong ones, and my mother is very strong. Thorman was my mother’s maiden name, which she came back to after divorcing her first husband, and she never married my father, who later died too early. I was first and foremost always my mother’s daughter and always had the name Thorman.

I didn’t always like it, of course. What I had learned to say in the most least offensive manner on my tongue would come out the opposite of sonorous from others. No, it’s not THUR-man. And I would always cringe when -MAN was emphasized. Or THOR-. Or anything that wasn’t a quick passing of two syllables on a person’s lips.

But who likes their name when they’re young anyway? Even my first name became Becca or Becka or Bex and I tried to see if I could be Samantha too. Ah, the eighties. When every young girl wanted to be the beautiful and elegant Samantha, and the fun and friendly Sam for short. Even back then we tried to have it all.

As I grew older, my name meant more to me. Thorman came to represent my mother, and our shared history together.  To lose Thorman wasn’t to just shed a name I grew up with, but a name that stood for strength and unconditional love. Many women keep their maiden name for similar familial meaning. Names are part of our identity, however you cut it.

So I could have kept Thorman and taken “a stand against the family’s historical swallowing up of women’s identity.” Or I could have hyphenated. I could have become Thorman-Healy, or even dropped my middle name and moved Thorman up to make room for Healy at the end. The number of naming conventions is many, if not impractical and confusing.

Rebecca Tuhus-Dubrow argues in the New York Times that “the inconveniences [of a hyphenated name] — blank stares, egregious misspellings — are outweighed by the blessing of never having to worry about a Google doppelgänger…. [but] the problem, of course, is that this naming practice is unsustainable.” Growing up, Tuhus-Dubrow constantly fielded the questions, “What will you do if you marry someone else with two last names? Will your kids have four names?”

On Slate’s podcast Mom & Dad Are Fighting (yes, I listen to a parenting podcast; no, we don’t have kids yet), Dan Kois and guest host Hanna Rosin talk about their kid’s last names. Rosin decided to use the combined surname Rosin Plotz for her kids, a non-hyphenated homage to both her and her husband’s name (“Now you can ask me if I regret that decision,” she says. “Yeah! Who wants to be named Rosin Plotz?”), while Kois argues that hyphenated names “feel like a generational Jenga, like somewhere six generations down the line it’s all going to collapse as everything gets piled on top of itself.” Still, he expresses regret that he and his wife decided not to hyphenate their kid’s names at all. “I think that would have been cool,” he says.

And honestly, what’s cool and sounds good often wins out. The path of least resistance is often the most practical, because no one wants to get stuck with the ugly name or a surname seventeen letters long.  

My own decision was a little of that, and a lot about family. I wanted to be known as “The Healys,” I wanted to write “The Healys” on envelopes and I wanted to be secure that our future kids would always know we are “The Healy Family.” I changed my name to create our family identity.

It isn’t about joining Ryan’s family or discarding mine; it’s about creating our own. Some feel the best way to do that is to combine or hyphenate names, to keep their maiden name, to take the woman’s name, or to create an amalgam, while I felt the best way to do it was to take Ryan’s name. There are parts of me that feels pangs for the Thorman name. A name change is never as simple as a few different letters; identity runs deep. And what Thorman represents is still there.

Like I can’t help but cringe when mail arrives addressed to “Mr. and Mrs. Ryan Healy” or “Mrs. Ryan Healy.” I do remain my own person, and I would much prefer to be addressed as “Mr. and Mrs. Healy,” or “The Healys,” or “Ryan & Rebecca Healy,” and certainly “Rebecca Healy” if you’re referring to just me. But I am happy we are a unit.

Together, we’ll create belonging and meaning and tradition. You can create that with all sorts of manners of names, but our identity will be under just one. After two hours at the Social Security office, a twenty-four hour hold, another two hours at the DMV, and fifteen days later, it became official.

I’m still Rebecca, and now we’re The Healys.

Did you decide to keep, hyphenate or drop your surname? How did you and your partner decide? What will you or did you name your kids?

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Happiness Knowing yourself Love What You Do Productivity Self-management Time management

Don’t Trust Your To-Do List
(It’s Crap)

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[audio:https://kontrary.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/DontTrustYourToDoList.mp3|titles=Don’t Trust Your To-Do List. It’s Crap]

One of my productivity secrets is obsessive singular focus. Give me a task, and I’ll put my head down and get ‘er done. Ryan likes to joke that the last time we moved, he left for work from one apartment, came home to a different one, and the location was the only thing different. I’m that good.

Once there is a goal in front of me, I throw everything at said goal to achieve it. That time we planned our wedding? Most big rocks were complete in 24 hours. Site redesign? Give me a weekend. Total career change? I need a month, max.

One after another, I devote my energies to each goal like a monogamous relationship. And for awhile, it works. Until it doesn’t. This magical productivity train (choo! choo!) stops when obsessive singular focus requires you to ignore everything else that’s important. And because you lose sight, you get overwhelmed. The productivity train slows, then stops.

Last Friday, the train didn’t slow or stop, it derailed. I had been working on merging our financial accounts for about a week. What shouldn’t have been too arduous a process was made more difficult by multiple attempts (like, a thousand calls) to verify my identity with our new bank. I finally got the accounts open Friday afternoon and Ryan said he would change his bills to our new joint accounts on Sunday.

Ahem.

SUNDAY? TWO DAYS AWAY?

Not only had I spent many logistical hours getting our accounts in place, but I had spent many more hours creating new budgets for our joint finances, and most importantly, I was READY. TO. BE. DONE. To cross this task, its sub-tasks, the whole freakin’ thing, off my list.

When Ryan went to pick us up dinner, I called my mom. “Can you believe it? He wants to do it on Sunday!”

“Well, it doesn’t all have to be done right now, does it?” she said.

My mom, ever-the-mediator. I took a breath.

No, it didn’t have to be done then and there. Not at all. In fact, there would be no dire consequences if Ryan changed the accounts on Sunday instead of Friday.

I took another breath. And really, if I had permission to not do things right away, just because it was on my list, maybe I could enjoy our Friday night, and Saturday, and Saturday night.

One more breath. Yes, of course, Sunday was fine.

We live in an achievement-oriented culture, where we add things to our to-do list, even when they’re already done, just to cross it off. The art of getting things done is more important than what we’re doing. Compile the weekly report. Done. Grocery shopping. Done. Write. Done. Exercise. Done. Meditate. Four out of five ain’t bad. But just because we measure by the numbers doesn’t mean we’re complete.

Climbing can be exhausting and I’ve tried to opt out. Not out of hard work, mind you. We glibly talk about first-world problems, but when your food and shelter needs are met, and you get down to the horrifying work of being a decent human being, sitting with your mind day-in and day-out, there are no easy problems. When you’ve stripped the titles and money and accolades, it can be more than difficult to just “be you.”

Not convinced? Witness the existential crises the most privileged among us face: the have-it-all graduates of the Ivy League. In a bracing essay for The New Republic, former Yale Professor and author William Deresiewicz argues “our system of elite education manufactures young people who are smart and talented and driven, yes, but also anxious, timid, and lost, with little intellectual curiosity and a stunted sense of purpose: trapped in a bubble of privilege, heading meekly in the same direction, great at what they’re doing but with no idea why they’re doing it.”

So we fill our time. With weekly reports. Daily lists. Merging financial accounts. We make things that don’t need to be priorities super important. So we feel important. So that we have meaning. So that we feel we’re on this Earth for some sort of reason.

Me too. I’m super competitive, despite never getting above fifth place on track or speech team in high school (FLUKES, I tell you). I’m good at what I do. I was groomed for the new American Dream where your email open rate counts for more than the type of car in your driveway. I love seeing numbers going up-and-to-the-right whether it’s revenue or minutes per run. Tracking. Self-quantification. Besting my personal best.

And me too. I’m hard on myself. Way too hard. It’s okay not to do it all. It’s okay not to have it all. I have to remind myself.

Obsessive singular focus is a magic potion. But it can be poison. It depends on the task at hand. But here’s a tip: Don’t trust your to-do list. It’s crap.

—

If you want to work on what matters, new spots are now open for the next round of Accountability Friend, wherein you invest in whatever your heart desires, and I become your accountability friend for two weeks. Click here to take control of your time, and take responsiblity for your life.

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Happiness Knowing yourself Relationships Self-management

How to Get Married After a Long-Term Relationship

RyanAndRebeccaEngaged_29Ryan and I were together almost six years before we got married a few weeks ago. People (like me) enjoy asking long-time couples once they’re married, “Do you feel any different?” And the answer is usually, “Not really.”

But I do. For me, marriage is an unknown. I didn’t grow up with an example of marriage or what it meant. My father died when I was in second grade, but even if he had lived, my parents were not married. They loved each other, spent their free time with each other, slept with each other (and then there was me – surprise!), but did not marry each other, for reasons too intricate for now. So I didn’t learn about marriage growing up. I learned Independence. Strength. How to Put Together Furniture Without a Man.

And while I was never sure I would ever get married, Ryan has always been sure he would. If my upbringing was imperfect, his was idyllic. While his parents were both previously married, once they came together, they stayed together. They had Ryan and his brother, and while of course they had ups and downs, they mostly built an All-American life. Which isn’t to say my childhood wasn’t privileged and joyful, just that we did not represent the standard nuclear family.

So do I feel different? I started to when we began to plan the wedding. Besides the streamers and food, we planned not just the order of the ceremony, but our marriage. I knew Ryan was “the one” right away, but five or six years together didn’t help the fear of lifelong commitment weeks before the wedding. I pushed against the idea in my head and then out loud. Very loud.

It came out all sorts of ways, but was mostly this: “Are you sure about this? Are you sure you want to commit to me? Lil’ ole me?” and also this: “Wait, I’m not ready yet! This isn’t where I wanted to be in my life. My identity! My career!”

I dug my heels in, trying to make the time before the big “I do” go slower, to talk about kids, and finances, and how we would fight, and who would get up with the baby, and where we would live. Our imaginary teenagers got into all sorts of trouble and I got upset when it became clear Ryan would be easier on our kids than I would be (dear future kiddos: you will be grounded).

It all took some time to sink in. When you’re as hard on yourself as I am, acceptance is a delicate flower. I came to realize that not being fully formed, well, that was okay. You can enter into marriage without smoothing down all the bumps. God knows, I tried.

Finally, we took a slow one or two hour walk through our favorite running path, down to the Lincoln Memorial (Ryan’s favorite), then along the reflecting pond, past the White House, and back up, past our neighborhood restaurants and shops. I didn’t get everything figured out like I wanted to. Only that I had chosen and had been chosen.

I finished my vows, the promises I made to Ryan, that we would figure the rest out along the way. I promised to go on that journey with him, not knowing what will happen, how we will feel, or what will come next.

When we arrived back home after the wedding, everything looked the same, but also, everything had moved two inches to the right. The space in between opened an entirely new depth in our relationship. I can see glimpses of what our life will be like, but I try to live in the present. My head on his chest, his hand on mine.

This is different. It’s all very different. Every day, my heart opens wider and I don’t know how it can hold so much love.

How did you or will you prepare for your marriage? Do you feel different? How will marriage change your relationship? 

(Psst – Next week, I’ll reveal the more practical side of marriage, including exactly how much our wedding cost and of course, the wedding photos. Update: click here to read.)

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Generation Y Knowing yourself Love What You Do

All the Things I Did Last Year

I like to wait until everyone else publishes their New Year’s resolutions, goals and non-resolutions and then publish mine. I want to know I’m not missing out on anything. And, I want to process everything.

So first, accomplishments from 2013. I got engaged, which was quite the celebration; kind of like being welcomed into a club I didn’t know existed: “You’re getting married! You’re one of us now!” I didn’t really get the mania, nor did I understand the constant questions of “When is the wedding?” It is the next logical question to ask, but very rarely have I imagined my wedding and more often I have imagined a non-wedding. (Also, weddings are too freaking expensive. Marriage is not an industry, folks.)

Rebecca Thorman
Right after Ryan got down on one knee.

Besides getting engaged, Ryan and I also celebrated five years together. This seemed like a much bigger achievement. We met six or seven years ago through blogging. Ryan was writing Employee Evolution, the blog that started his company Brazen Careerist, and I used to comment on his blog and tell him how wrong he was. In fact, I was inspired to start my blog because I felt like I had more to add to the conversation. He wasn’t phased, and true to his character, he was the second person to comment on my blog. That’s how he is: no grudges, doesn’t take anything personally. We have good conversations. I like to say I fell in love with his mind before I ever met him, but it doesn’t hurt that he’s also super good looking.

Other things that happened last year: I quit a job I hated with every particle in my being. I hated it so much that I became indifferent, which is the worst kind of hate. It’s like the gasoline slowly leaked out of my tank, and then hit empty, and then went past the reserves, until I’m sitting in a coffee shop with my nice boss (not the reason I hated my job) and the words “I quit” just slipped out. There was nothing else to say.*

(*Okay, there was a lot to say, but I said it all to a coach. Which was another big thing for me in 2013. Asking for help.)

I have a list of “Successes in 2013,” and at the very top, above anything else is “Quit a job I hated.” So this was a big deal. I decided I was worth more.

Rebecca Thorman
Getting excited at Google.

I spoke on a panel at Google in 2013, which was particularly awesome because I was on the panel with really important people, and when it was time for the Q&A, I prepared myself for all the questions to be directed at these really important people. Instead, the first person directed her question toward me, and she said she read my blog. And then the second person, her question was for me too, and she read my blog too. And so on and so forth. And it was joyous. Because sometimes, even with all the comments and the likes and tweets, it’s hard out here for a blogger, and people were telling me they liked me, face-to-face. AT GOOGLE. It’s something I will never forget. Thank you to everyone who tells someone else nice things. You are good people.

The Washingtonian named me a Tech Titan in 2013, for leading the DC Lean Startup meetup where we’ve built an amazing learning community. And while sometimes I think maybe it was a situation where the editors said, “Dang! There are not enough women on this list; are there ANY other women in tech?” I am still really proud of myself. Particularly because the Lean Startup meetup is what gave me my footing in DC. When Ryan and I moved to DC, I was a fish out of water, lonely working from home for my old job back in Madison, and depressed. The world was bigger than I had led myself to believe, and I was much, much smaller. Finally, I got off my “woe is me” butt, and attended the meetup, spoke at the meetup, and then started volunteering to help organize the meetup. It was through the meetup that I built my network, a community, and my own little interesting corner of the city.

Climbing a mountain.

What else? I climbed a mountain. I spent a lot more time outside. I spent a lot more time exercising and moving. I caught up with family. I turned 30. I feel 27. I keep all my old driver’s licenses and my first driver’s license lists my weight as 130 lbs, and I still weigh 130 lbs. I am damn proud of that. So yes, like the weather: 30, feels like 27. Or 16. The older I get, the more I realize what a goofball I am, and why-does-everyone-have-to-be-so-serious-all-the-time. And me, I don’t have to be so serious all the time.

On that note, I learned to let go in 2013. Of people who suck, and people who are not very nice people. I ran out of gas here too, first putting energy into trying to make certain people like me, and then, just like that, all the energy was gone and I was done. Turns out indifference is a useful therapy for not only expunging dreadful jobs, but also dreadful people.

I am happier. Or wait, I don’t like that term. And I don’t like happy people. I have found more peace. 2013 was the year of finding peace, coming to terms with myself, and my head, which is an awful place to live. Now I live in my lungs, where I breath. Life is two sides of a coin, happy and sad, good and bad, and you can never separate the two from one another. When happy comes, I learn to recognize it and I say, “Oh, this is nice, and it will pass.” When bad comes, I learn to recognize it and I say, “Oh, this is not-so-nice, and it too will pass.”

The last quarter of 2013, I got a new job, after taking a break from all the jobs, and it is good. Really good. And I have a good feeling about 2014. Last year, I tore down what wasn’t working; this year I’m looking forward to building things back up.

Categories
Accountability Career Happiness Knowing yourself

How to Do What You Want
In Life

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[audio:https://kontrary.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/dowhatyouwant.mp3|titles=How to Do What You Want In Life]

The hardest thing in doing what you want is coming to terms with it. I’ve spent more than ten years doing that, maybe more, maybe since I was a little person? When I was young, my mother gave me a book to record my dreams. I never wrote down the visions that came to me at night, only what I fantasized about during the day. The themes don’t change over time. I’ve known for a long time what I wanted to do.

In many ways, I’ve been doing what I want, and in those positions and side jobs and experiments and activities, I’ve been circling closer and closer, around and around, like a bird goes about it’s prey. But quitting my job was recognition that, all of a sudden, the circle was getting larger, not smaller. I wasn’t closing in on everything I’ve ever wanted, but moving farther away from it. I needed a course correction, and I took it.

Since then, for two months or so, I’ve gone on a life break, a reset if you will. I exercise a lot. I read endlessly on the Internet. I sit on our stoop and people watch. I started drinking light wheat beers. I completed my best run, and then a week later, I did it three days in a row. We went on a vacation to Newport. I had my 30th birthday party, and another celebration for good measure.

I am more at peace, knowing somewhere I already made the decision the moment I quit, and now I am just preparing myself. There’s depression, and then there’s the overwhelming excitement of possibility, where your heart races and there’s nothing you can do to slow down. I’m not sure which I prefer. I try to temper my expectations. Other days, I strike down big goals from my heart. I tackle them in permanent ink.

If you could do anything, what would you do? The responsibility is big. Or so we believe. Most of us can do anything we choose, but we don’t because of perceived limitations. For the past two months or so, I have been stripping those limitations from my view. I have been trying to erase paradigms, or understand them, or feel comfortable wrestling with them because they’ll never go away, not completely.

Like, for example, when people asked what my next step was, and I said “I don’t know.” That’s not a good thing to say unless you want to make people confused and uncomfortable. Or later, when I knew, and I said, “I’m a writer,” the reactions are very different from when I mentioned “I’m in marketing,” or “I work for a startup.” I still do those things. But first and foremost, I’m a writer now.

Mostly I am coming to terms with a different financial reality. Because I want to make money, and I am pursuing what I want in the absence of money. This makes me confused and uncomfortable. But media is an industry in enormous flux, both risky and thrilling, where beloved institutions crumble and new ones are built in just hours. More than anything I want to be in the fray. Writing is a constant sifting and winnowing for the truth. That which allow us to make sense of our lives. And there’s a lot of sense to be made.

I want to build a space for dialogue to engage and challenge our ideas and institutions. I’ll investigate how to find meaning and make money in our work and lives, even as inequality rises to staggering heights and highly educated young people remain jobless or underemployed with debilitating debt, even as we live in a lesser depression, even as partisan politics reaches all-time highs and corporatism sinks to lower lows, even as we struggle with sexism and insidious ignorance, even as we feel the problems piling up around us are too big to solve.

Now is the time where I stop circling and make the dive.

Categories
Career Engagement Future of Work Knowing yourself Self-management

Why Choose Passion and Purpose Over Short-Term Gain?

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[audio:https://kontrary.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/PurposePostTake2-copy.mp3|titles=Why Choose Passion and Purpose Over Short-Term Gain?]

Money is simply an exchange of value. On the one hand, that phrase allowed me to break past my money barriers a year ago. On the other, it’s complete horseshit.

At one time, money was an exchange of value. But today, when the top 20% of wealthy people hold 80% of the world’s stocks, something is wrong. It means that when companies maximize shareholder profits, they maximize profits for the wealthy and no one else. It means it’s hard to want to lean in or press on in a system like that. And yet, we know or we’ve been told, that financial worth is important. Our measure of worth is often measured in dollars. And Bethany Butzer argues, “if your passion doesn’t lead to a hefty paycheck, it’s viewed as a waste of time.”

Today, we live in a lesser depression, but the actual depression is deep within our minds. Our generation is sick, and overwhelmed with our immense privilege. We can do anything with our lives, and that’s just the issue. This existential crisis – what should we do with our lives? – has not only contributed to the quarter-life crisis phenomenon, but a deep and abiding angst and anxiety now bubbling over the surface.

Most of us sacrifice meaning for paychecks we don’t particularly like. And callings don’t always pay well (contrary to the zealots who argue if you follow your passion, money will follow), so the rest of us sacrifice security for a modicum of self-respect. These aren’t great tradeoffs. Sure, we all hope that at some point the economy will change and worth won’t be measured by the GDP (as Robert F. Kennedy said, “Gross National Product measures everything, in short, except that which makes life worthwhile.”), but in the meantime, we are stuck in between a rock and a hard place.

We optimize our lives for short-term gain, rather than long-term fulfillment. We suffer the “mediocre over the breathtaking,” because real net worth is harder and harder to come by and find. We suffer to keep up.  “We’re very busy,” argues economist Umair Haque, “ but we’re not better for it.” Fast is the only speed, because everything is a competition. Beat the other guy and prove your worth. Beat the other guy and have a better life.

The problem is “the problems of youth unemployment, underemployment, marginalization, and inequality are so pervasive globally, more and more economists are beginning to point to a lost generation,” argues Haque. “Our institutions are failing. They’re failing us, failing the challenge of igniting real, lasting human prosperity. If institutions are just instruments to fulfill social contracts, then ours are shattering because the social contracts at their hearts have fractured.”

As a generation, we’re not equipped for such wicked problems. We were trained in schools for corporate factory jobs, not for learning and discovery, not for testing and experimentation. And while almost certainly one-hundred percent of us buy into the idea that knowledge is power, that education is key not only to our own advancement, but the advancement of the human race, almost all of us stop that education after twenty or so years.

No one learns on the job anymore; the word “apprentice,” exists solely as a joke on primetime television. Every young woman wants a mentor, but few find anyone willing. Today’s employer wants the high-performer, fully formed. Companies don’t teach, that’s not the agreement. The agreement is you provide value for salary and benefits. But as people who routinely quit their jobs at Google or Booz Allen in search for something more will tell you, that’s not enough.

Mostly because what companies see as value isn’t connected to any larger sort of purpose or meaning. The purpose is to maximize shareholder profits, in most cases, and most of us intuitively know, even if we don’t study economics and or aren’t aware of the large inequalities of the system, that a purpose based on profits and profits alone is not enough. “Be the best!” is inherently just an axiom of “Beat the other guy.” And beating the other guy has nothing to do with maximizing human potential. It’s just about winning, and winning alone.

While writing Passion & Purpose, author Daniel Gulati says he “met dozens of recent graduates who, rather than applying their newly-acquired knowledge to solve important problems, had prematurely opted to extract value for themselves. Said one young executive: ‘I had big ideas when I started, but now it’s all about getting promoted to partner.’ Said another: ‘I know I’m just pushing paper. But I like getting paid six figures for working nine-to-five and ordering room service at fancy hotels.’”

We optimize for short-term gain, rather than extraordinary, difficult, heart-wrenching change that will solve social problems, impact the planet and advance the human race. “So you made a profit. Yawn,” says Haque. “Did you actually have an impact?”

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Accountability Career Knowing yourself Love What You Do Workplace

Opting Out of Climbing the Career Ladder

It was five weeks ago when my boss and I were sitting in a coffee shop and I told him I wanted to transition out of my position. The words kind of slipped out. I was mentally exhausted and tired. While certainly there were parts of my job – and people too – that I enjoyed, there wasn’t a day that passed where I didn’t think, “This isn’t what I want to do.”

Last Friday was my last day of work.

I wasn’t planning to quit, really. It seemed right to suck it up and keep going. It seemed responsible. But I told Ryan constantly that I wanted to leave. Many times I told him this was the day I was going to go in and do the deed. And many times I came home and told him, “Well, it was okay today. It wasn’t so bad.”

The job was a good one and I sort of fell into it, and not at all intentionally. I was making a lot of money consulting. I didn’t particularly enjoy consulting; clients are often just as messy as employers, but the money is better. And that was something. But I also craved the security of a job, or so I thought.

What I really wanted was to opt out.

I wanted permission to get off the career ladder. To step down, instead of up. I wanted to stop competing – with myself, with everyone, with society. I am leaving to do my own thing and to build my own business, but also decidedly to take a break.

Most people don’t have that luxury, I understand. We are bound by lifestyles and responsibilities seemingly outside of our control. And I view this period in my life as a last chance, or rather an opportunity, for that reason. Ryan and I are engaged, and soon we will be married and have kids and a house and many other things that don’t make it impossible, but certainly make it loads more difficult to try something different.

It seems weird that someone who has written about careers, practically her whole life since college, should then decide to opt out of her career. Perhaps those with the highest hopes have the largest illusions. I thought work was going to be great. There’s nothing more that I wanted than to work with a team toward a larger goal. I didn’t expect the constant power struggles. I didn’t expect the lack of meaning. I certainly didn’t expect complete and utter burnout.

Work has largely been a disappointment to entire generations, so I’ll take some comfort that it’s not just me. Seventy-two percent of American workers are either not engaged or are actively disengaged at their jobs, reports the Harvard Business Review. Those that aren’t engaged are “essentially checked out. They’re sleepwalking through their workday putting time – but not energy or passion – into their work.” And those that are actively disengaged are doing what they can to make life hell for everyone else.

The recession particularly screwed Generation Y, and the change we sought in the workplace just didn’t come. An open office isn’t a sign of advancement, for instance – it’s just an employer hopping onto another bandwagon after another. While seventy percent of workers sit in open-office plans, no one really likes it. Workers in open-plan offices get sick more often (due to a lack of privacy and stress), are irritated by noises from conversations and machines, and are less productive due to reduced motivation and decreased job satisfaction.

There is no real thought or inquiry that goes into what composes a great work experience. While I have no desire to sit in a cubicle for eight hours a day, I have even less desire to sit on display in front of twenty other people for eight hours a day.

Frankly, I don’t want to sit for eight hours in any capacity. I want to be outside. I want to lie down at 3 pm and read a book. I want to meditate. I want to go for a run at 10:30 am. I want to build something. I want to meet friends. Since when do we believe that being in one spot for our whole lives is meaningful? The Internet is a poor substitute for life.

I worry about our economy when our brightest minds sit all day. Maybe I am not opting out of my career, but opting out of every convention that we currently impose onto work. I saw Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg speak in Washington, DC and read her bestseller Lean In within just a few hours. Almost every page is marked up. The will to lead is certainly within me, but not like this. Not like it’s been in nearly every job I’ve held since my first paycheck.

While I have quit jobs before, it was always to climb the next rung. This time was an intentional and measured decision about my life, the first of its kind in awhile, and the first of what I hope is many. Too many times I have walked into doors that have been opened for me. Luck, some would say. Although I try not to attribute success to luck; success has come because I work hard, network and connect with the right people, and show up to the communities I’m involved with. In the past five weeks alone, I’ve turned down two jobs. I know how to make money. I know how to have jobs. I can see the path of a successful career ahead of me. But what I want is entirely different.

This time, I want to be present. I expect the rest will come. I don’t expect all roses; I know life is hard. I don’t believe in the pursuit of happiness without the pursuit of sadness. But I won’t be checked out anymore. I refuse to just go through the motions. I choose to lean in – but on my terms.

I think this is what they call, peace.

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Generation Y Happiness Knowing yourself Love What You Do Notebook Self-management

It’s (Not) Okay to Fail

Generation Y does not need permission to fail. We got medals and ribbons for that very reason as kids. Gen Y normalized failure. Failure is not scary. It means you get to stay in the status quo, which most of us are very comfortable in. You get to keep being who you are, and that isn’t all bad.

It’s success – that’s scary. Indeed, we’re not changing stuff up because we’re afraid to fail, but afraid to succeed. We need to let people know, “It’s okay to succeed.”

Part of the reason we are so obsessed with normalizing failure is that we want to feel good about ourselves. And that’s hard right now, no doubt. It’s hard to find a job, to get out of debt, to pursue meaningful work. It’s hard to make time for family, get away from our computers, and engage face-to-face. It’s hard not to compare our bottoms to everyone’s top on Facebook.

So, we embrace failure. In its call for speakers, the Dare Conference says, “If you’re willing to be vulnerable, admit your failures, and share what you learned from them, we want to hear from you.” Apparently people aren’t doing that enough on the Internet?

So, we court failure. This guy goes around trying to get rejected on a daily basis. He intentionally tries to fail as if that’s an accomplishment.

So, we sleep with failure. We dream of failure. We live with failure — as a point of pride.

I don’t want to fail. Failure is boring. Failure usually means you didn’t try something; you didn’t follow through; you didn’t finish. Most people don’t really fail. They succeed at being lazy, and call it failure. But at least they tried. Er, right?

Lazy is not failure, it’s just lazy. Practice moderation, instead of binging on inspiration. Practice patience, instead of quick wins.  Start something, but then finish it.

Marc Andreessen, co-founder of the modern web browser, Netscape and leading venture capitalist, said pivots used to be called fuck-ups and begged for the startup community to put a little more stigma back into failure.

“We joke around the office that the worst is the fetish for failure,” Andreessen said. “You don’t want people to be intentionally encouraged to fail. Maybe it’s time to add a bit more stigma. The entrepreneurs I admire — I admire the ones who pivot but I really admire the ones who have persisted.”

Persist. It’s okay to succeed.

Categories
Career Knowing yourself Self-management

6 Strategies to Kick Imposter Syndrome to the Curb

Imposter syndrome happens when you don’t feel good enough. You’re afraid that at any moment you will be found out. You feel unsure of what you’re doing, that you don’t have any expertise, and that you’ve just been “faking it” all along. Over at US News and World Report today, I talk about the six ways to get over that fear and find confidence in yourself. Read it here.

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Career Knowing yourself Love What You Do Self-management

5 Ways to Succeed as a Multi-Passionate Careerist

Discovering your career purpose is tough work, especially when you have multiple interests. Too many choices, the feeling of potentially missing out and the inability to decide can all act as roadblocks to finding that elusive dream job. Over at Brazen Careerist today, I talk about the five ways you can succeed, even as a multi-passionate careerist. Read it here.