Ten years ago I suffered a romantic setback; that's what I call it now. Back then it was more like a breakup. I was old enough not to feel particularly nostalgic about the person I was breaking up with--it wasn't a fit. What was more disturbing to me was the pattern of unavailable types I was attracting. Despite my seeming efforts to find someone "right" for me. I was pursuing the wrong people. Or allowing the wrong people to pursue me.
Fortunately for me I had a cadre of pals in the personal development space whom I could take out for coffee and conversation. One of them, a life coach, always insisted to me that the sooner I could move on from these wrong relationships the quicker I'd get to the right one. You know the saying: By closing a door, you open a new one.
Initially this was counterintuitive to me. On the career side I had learned that you never quit a job without having another one lined up. Of course, as life complicates, this becomes far more difficult to do. If you don't actually quit and move on in your mind, you cannot fully embrace the new, unless you expect to repeat a pattern of settling for less.
During an especially disappointing relationship I recall laying in bed, thinking to myself: "I'm sick and tired of this, I'm done," and went to sleep. I broke off the relationship the next morning, with none of the drama or emotional afterbirth usually associated with my messier breaks. And while I was scared--even a bad relationship can provide a sense of security--I felt hopeful, like I was ready to have the right thing come to me. It did. And it felt different, uncertain and unfamiliar. But I was so thoroughly sick enough of the wrong thing that I was willing to stick it out and see where it took me.
I started to get good at closing doors quicker, in all aspects of my life. I had experienced a number of career breakups--most of them not that memorable; I was unhappy at the job, interviewed for other jobs during lunch, and then moved on when I got the offer onto something different but eventually equally dissatisfying. I had some experiences with what I thought was "The One," the job that would give my life purpose and direction. These usually involved breaking with the corporate world for a spell, until the uncertainty and loneliness got to me so much I clawed my way back to a matching 401(k).
Eventually, after a few cycles, I quit for good, with no bad feelings for my boss, no gig lined up, only a willingness to embrace what came, and it worked. It was life altering and life defining. Every day I acted with intention and embraced what came to me. Everything was a sign, something to be explored, until I was far enough on my path to determine when it wasn't.
Fortunately for me I had a cadre of pals in the personal development space whom I could take out for coffee and conversation. One of them, a life coach, always insisted to me that the sooner I could move on from these wrong relationships the quicker I'd get to the right one. You know the saying: By closing a door, you open a new one.
Initially this was counterintuitive to me. On the career side I had learned that you never quit a job without having another one lined up. Of course, as life complicates, this becomes far more difficult to do. If you don't actually quit and move on in your mind, you cannot fully embrace the new, unless you expect to repeat a pattern of settling for less.
During an especially disappointing relationship I recall laying in bed, thinking to myself: "I'm sick and tired of this, I'm done," and went to sleep. I broke off the relationship the next morning, with none of the drama or emotional afterbirth usually associated with my messier breaks. And while I was scared--even a bad relationship can provide a sense of security--I felt hopeful, like I was ready to have the right thing come to me. It did. And it felt different, uncertain and unfamiliar. But I was so thoroughly sick enough of the wrong thing that I was willing to stick it out and see where it took me.
I started to get good at closing doors quicker, in all aspects of my life. I had experienced a number of career breakups--most of them not that memorable; I was unhappy at the job, interviewed for other jobs during lunch, and then moved on when I got the offer onto something different but eventually equally dissatisfying. I had some experiences with what I thought was "The One," the job that would give my life purpose and direction. These usually involved breaking with the corporate world for a spell, until the uncertainty and loneliness got to me so much I clawed my way back to a matching 401(k).
Eventually, after a few cycles, I quit for good, with no bad feelings for my boss, no gig lined up, only a willingness to embrace what came, and it worked. It was life altering and life defining. Every day I acted with intention and embraced what came to me. Everything was a sign, something to be explored, until I was far enough on my path to determine when it wasn't.
Still I think back and wonder, if I had known how hard it would be, how many times I would question whether I needed to do something "responsible," would I have done it? I remind myself that's a bad question, like asking yourself that if you had known how uncomfortable being born would be, would you have done it? For entrepreneurs, entering self-employment is an inevitability.
A friend of mine has been working on all cylinders these days--teaching children by day and training adults by night. A consummate fitness expert, she's been burning her post-day-job energy in the gym, helping people like me infuse some activity into their sedentary weeks hunched over laptops and seeking more fun and meaning out of their workouts.
When we met I remarked that this gal had energy. Always greeting you with excitement, she never had an off day, even when she was personally having an off day. She constantly encouraged you to listen to your body and "love it" with challenging movement. She removed me from my quotidien week-end drudgery and even made me look forward to working out. Before her, you would never find me lifting weights at 6pm on a Friday night. I could tell that she wasn't teaching for the extra money. She was compelled to make the time for it.
As I got to know her I learned about her other life, the one for which she woke up at 6am and spent hours with children. I'm told teaching school-age children is an energy-sapping experience, and yet, there she was, every Friday when I went to her class, and nearly every other day of the week, ready to help people get fit after a long day. She was driven to teach after work like I was driven to eat.
Yesterday I arrived early for our circuit class as she was getting ready. Our usual conversation: She asks me how I'm doing, and I complain about how I've just spent the previous nine hours on phone calls. This time I asked her, "How are you?". She was just getting back to her regular teaching schedule, she said, after weeks off from her day job.
"It's hard getting back into it," she said. "It's not working for me anymore." I'd never heard her complain about her day job before.
This is quite common for anyone coming back from vacation--feeling a heightened awareness of how much time you spend working and vowing that you will do everything in your power to infuse more fun into your life. But for someone with entrepreneurial proclivities, vacations are more like contractions: You experience life for a week with you at the helm. And you come back exhilarated. And even while your reality may make a complete life change impossible, something is growing inside you. And it won't get any smaller. At some point, it needs to be born.
After class my friend gave me a ride home, and we talked some more. I could totally relate to her jouney. I've been on it several times. The third time around it finally stuck. I shared with her a story of another friend of mine who ping-ponged between living her dream and working in the corporate world, finally surrendering to her passion for Pilates. Even though it's exhilarating, the self-employed environment can often be too harsh to take right away. You have to build a thicker skin for it.
Someone else who is close to me is also wondering about the right path. "Should I jump?" he asked me. He's different from my other friend, who has been living in both the corporate and the soloist world and is starting to feel the pull. He's at an earlier phase in his journey, and while timing is different for everyone, I think he needs to stick it out longer. Flirt with the soloist's life, take on projects, work way too hard and get used to the exhilaration of what it feels like to work on something you own and are passionate about. You will need to store up a lot of this adrenaline to sustain you for the jump.
Sure, I'm suggesting that he hedge his bets; that he not completely shut the door to his current working life. But make no mistake; when the time is right he will have to close that door thoroughly and throw away the key. He may decide to go back and knock down the door behind him, but he cannot be unborn.
When we met I remarked that this gal had energy. Always greeting you with excitement, she never had an off day, even when she was personally having an off day. She constantly encouraged you to listen to your body and "love it" with challenging movement. She removed me from my quotidien week-end drudgery and even made me look forward to working out. Before her, you would never find me lifting weights at 6pm on a Friday night. I could tell that she wasn't teaching for the extra money. She was compelled to make the time for it.
As I got to know her I learned about her other life, the one for which she woke up at 6am and spent hours with children. I'm told teaching school-age children is an energy-sapping experience, and yet, there she was, every Friday when I went to her class, and nearly every other day of the week, ready to help people get fit after a long day. She was driven to teach after work like I was driven to eat.
Yesterday I arrived early for our circuit class as she was getting ready. Our usual conversation: She asks me how I'm doing, and I complain about how I've just spent the previous nine hours on phone calls. This time I asked her, "How are you?". She was just getting back to her regular teaching schedule, she said, after weeks off from her day job.
"It's hard getting back into it," she said. "It's not working for me anymore." I'd never heard her complain about her day job before.
This is quite common for anyone coming back from vacation--feeling a heightened awareness of how much time you spend working and vowing that you will do everything in your power to infuse more fun into your life. But for someone with entrepreneurial proclivities, vacations are more like contractions: You experience life for a week with you at the helm. And you come back exhilarated. And even while your reality may make a complete life change impossible, something is growing inside you. And it won't get any smaller. At some point, it needs to be born.
After class my friend gave me a ride home, and we talked some more. I could totally relate to her jouney. I've been on it several times. The third time around it finally stuck. I shared with her a story of another friend of mine who ping-ponged between living her dream and working in the corporate world, finally surrendering to her passion for Pilates. Even though it's exhilarating, the self-employed environment can often be too harsh to take right away. You have to build a thicker skin for it.
Someone else who is close to me is also wondering about the right path. "Should I jump?" he asked me. He's different from my other friend, who has been living in both the corporate and the soloist world and is starting to feel the pull. He's at an earlier phase in his journey, and while timing is different for everyone, I think he needs to stick it out longer. Flirt with the soloist's life, take on projects, work way too hard and get used to the exhilaration of what it feels like to work on something you own and are passionate about. You will need to store up a lot of this adrenaline to sustain you for the jump.
Sure, I'm suggesting that he hedge his bets; that he not completely shut the door to his current working life. But make no mistake; when the time is right he will have to close that door thoroughly and throw away the key. He may decide to go back and knock down the door behind him, but he cannot be unborn.
