Mid-Career

The post I didn’t mean to write, but needed to

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I intended to post a picture of the cucumbers and beans that my son & husband harvested from our garden yesterday. Then, I was going to say something cute like, “lesson learned, never give up!” Then, the hypocrisy of that post stopped me and I wrote this one instead. I had nothing to do with the garden. But, I have everything to do with this. So here it is.

“It only takes one person to change your life: You.”

“Tips for a powerful brand”

“Realize your full talent potential!”

“I just posted a ______ mile run with Map My Run!”

“I worked out this morning!”

“I nailed a run. #beastmode”

“You can be anything you want, you just have to choose.”

“Believe you can do anything at least once a day.”

As someone who wrestles with anxiety and depression, these incessant messages feel like I am being pelted with… criticism. It feels like noise. Blah, blah, blah. Talking heads with really long skinny fingers pointing at me. “You are not enough. You should be doing more.” Noise, noise, noise. The messages make me jealous, more anxious, and paralyzed by the fear of doing something wrong, trapped by perfectionism.

I haven’t blogged in too long and I have yet to make significant progress on my journal article.

I feel ashamed that I have fallen off the exercise wagon and yet to get back on. I can’t remember the last time I went for a run. I did a few 5Ks in early spring. I even ran in the mornings for about two weeks. I went running on vacation?! Then, I got sick and I stopped. Although my cold is gone, I have not fully recovered.

I know that people who tweet and post encouraging messages don’t know that I feel this way. I also know that the intent of these messages is not to make anyone feel bad or to shame anyone into exercising, or writing, or updating their LinkedIn profile. If anything, these posts serve to encourage others. And they do. I have witnessed many friends get on the exercise bandwagon, update resumes, add skills to their profiles, etc., etc., etc. And sometimes, they encourage me, too. And other times, these overtly positive messages feel threatening.

The thing with depression too is that it makes me lose sight of what I have accomplished. This weekend, I did six loads of laundry; went shopping for home décor; then came home and fixed an old nightstand with a new knob and picture frames; put my son’s artwork into a new frame and hung it in the living room; and painted an entryway in our house with a spiritual saying, with a stone cross in the middle of it (take THAT Pinterest! I came up with that idea all on my own!). Not bad! And, I did it all by myself. Doing this alone is also a huge feat for me, as my anxiety can sometimes make being alone feel like loneliness.

But, I didn’t go running. I didn’t exercise once all weekend. I didn’t call my grandmother. I texted my sister on her birthday instead of calling her. I didn’t, I didn’t. I didn’t…..Noise. Noise. Noise.

It’s not that I don’t want to work out, or write thank you notes, or clean my house. It’s not that I can’t.

It’s that the cycle of inertia, shame, and more inertia fueled by that shame, is really, really hard to break. Hitting the reset button is necessary. I know that I need to. I know that I want to. It’s just that taking the first step to actually doing it feels momentous.

This is part of me that I never knew before; I have only recently learned that how I feel had a name. Truth is, I have always wrestled with these issues. Looking back on my late 20s and early 30s, I can now see patterns of behavior. Periods of incredible activity and productivity, followed or proceeded by valleys of exhaustion and inactivity. When in the valley of depression it feels as if everything is fuzzy, like someone is shouting at me but I am under water. I can see and hear them and I want to claw my way out and break the surface but, I end up treading water instead.

I even have dreams about my depression. In my dreams, I have been wronged, shamed, or thrown under the bus by someone, almost always in a public setting. I try to speak up for myself and I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I am shouting inside my head but, only I can hear it. The people around me are staring at me. This leads to more and more frustration and more shouting, but no results.

I also dream that I am running but nothing ever happens. My legs get shorter and my abdomen collapses like an accordion and I get physically smaller. Then, my legs start to sink into the pavement and I am no longer running, just staying in one place. Interesting that my dreams are about running. Huh.

I read once that the author J.K. Rowling struggles with depression and that the dementors in Harry Potter are her version of that struggle. This is the best image I can think of to represent depression and it’s after effects. I can feel its presence, its cold breath on my neck. There are times when I can swallow the doubts and fears, choke them back like gravel in my throat. And then, there are other times when I must embrace the darkness. Let its waves crash over me and run their course. Then, I will rise up again. Battered and bruised, but still here.

I am absolutely terrified to post this. I fear what you will think. But, I am choosing #optimism and doing it anyway.

I am learning that none of this makes me weak. This does not make me less-than. Some days are easier than others.By being vulnerable about my imperfections, my crosses, I can name them, address them, and even embrace them without shame because they make me who I am.

Own it

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I recently attended the NASPA region 4E Women In Student Affairs (WISA) bi-annual drive-in conference. Before the conference, at the conference, and post-conference many of the participants were tweeting and talking about Daring Greatly by Brene Brown and Lean In by Sheryl Sandberg.

In my post-conference euphoria- you know that feeling. You go back to your job inspired and revved up to change the world- I purchased both of these books and started reading away. I drank the Kool-aid and I am so grateful I did. I read Daring Greatly while on vacation. I could not put it down. I finished Lean In about two weeks ago. I strongly suggest that anyone, woman or man, who is looking to know herself better and become an even stronger leader read both of these books. You will not regret it.

Dr. Peggy Burke of DePaul University gave an amazing and inspiring keynote presentation centered around both of these books and the idea of “owning it.” In short, women leaders often sabotage themselves by not owning their own accomplishments. We are socialized to be polite, team players who demure in the spotlight. We give credit to others for our accomplishments because taking credit is boastful or worse, bitchy.

Hearing this was like being hit upside the head with a mallet. This was more than an a-ha moment. This was an “oh my gosh, I have been doing myself a huge disservice and it explains a lot, and I need to stop doing that” moment.

Related to my own completion of my doctorate degree, I have done this for the last three years. Heck, I did it that morning at the conference! I was sitting at a table of colleagues and got chatting with the woman next to me. We shared that we are both moms, mid-career, etc. etc. She told me that is she beginning her doctoral work this fall and then she asked me, “how did you do it?” And the first words out of my mouth were, “I had help. I had an amazing partner who took on a lot…..My kids were great sleepers….I had a graduate assistantship that covered some tuition…..” All of which are completely true. And, part of the answer.

The problem is, I have let all those explanations become the answer rather than just part of it. There are many reasons for this, I am sure. I am still figuring those out. But, I am now on a personal and professional mission to claim my accomplishments, to profess them openly without boasting or bragging, and to actively encourage other women to do the same. I have a lot to contribute to whatever environment I choose to be in. And, so do you. So own it!

So, Monica. Question: “how did you finish your doctorate degree in five years, while maintaining part-time employment, have two children, shepherd one of those children through a life-threatening illness, and stay married?”

Answers:

I worked my tail off.

I had a singular, laser-like focus for five years.

I established a reading, writing, and dissertating schedule that I protected as sacred.

I am a strong writer.

I love to read and be in a classroom of fellow learners.

I was never going to allow my life circumstances to become an excuse for not finishing.

I owed it to myself to finish what I started.

I am not a quitter.

Those PhD robes are classy and I wanted them.

Once earned, an education can never be taken away from you. I earned mine. I had help. Lots of it. But I went to class, I did the work, it’s my name on that diploma. So, I am owning it.

What areas of your life do you need to own? Are there other leaders in your circle who should be encouraged to do the same? I would love to share “owning it” stories with you. Let’s connect!

Seeing with new eyes

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Part I

Tuesday was the first day that I was required to work at the University’s summer orientation program for new students. In the afternoon, we help students put together their first-year schedules. As an academic advisor, this is my job and about 85% of the time I love it. Orientation is a different beast on multiple levels. First, the students are overwhelmed and in a post-lunch food coma. Second, the room is very warm, thus adding to the sleepiness. Third and most challenging, the range of student experiences, preparation, attitude, and willingness to listen is drastic. In 60 minutes, I advised 1. an Honors College student who had enough AP credits to make her a sophomore; 2. a young man who was pre-enrolled in all of his courses and all of them were right (!); and 3. a young woman who was required by the University to take developmental writing and math, yet who was in complete denial about her ability to handle college-level Chemistry and fought us on her schedule. I do not offer this as complaint. I can’t stand whiners. I offer it as context for the layered complexity of advising work and the challenge of dealing with unknowns. At summer orientation, you never know what is going to walk in the door and end up sitting across from you. For me, this is both stimulating and a little overwhelming.

I came home on the overwhelmed side. I just could not understand (or accept) how in 2013 a student graduated from high school not being able to do math or write at a pre-college level. What do students learn in high school? What don’t they learn? Whose responsibility is it to teach them? Why don’t students take more ownership of their experiences? How can young people the same age, from the same state, in the same year, come to college at completely different levels? What were the social, economic, political, racial, and geographic factors that impacted their experiences, their level of exposure to higher education?

I felt sad. Sad for my student, that she has such a hard climb ahead of her. And a little sad for and disappointed in myself because I am not sure that in our 20 minute interaction, all that much was accomplished. How can one or two interactions with me and my colleagues possibly undo all that she has learned (or not) in the last 18 years?

Part II

After dinner, I took L to his baseball game. In my recent efforts to spend less time on Facebook and on my phone, I brought along a magazine that I then proceeded to leave on the front seat of my car. Instead of feeling sorry for myself for forgetting my magazine and about my self-imposed Facebook hiatus, I sat and listened. Because I wasn’t distracting myself with technology, I was able to really see all the things that were happening around me. I didn’t just look at them with my eyes, I felt them with my mind, my heart, my soul. At an elementary school baseball field, in a medium sized MidWestern, University town, I observed…

A man in a wheelchair arrived to the game with his two sons. The boys were on scooters a few feet in front of him. Before they ran out to meet their teammates, the dad called them over, gave them their hats, wiped his shirt with his tongue and cleaned smudges off their faces. It was such a tender moment of kind parenting.

Four sets of grandparents there to cheer on their grandchildren. They were all married. They were holding hands. One of the sets of grandparents lives with the parents of one of my son’s teammates. The way they laughed together, the knowing way they touched each others’ arms, hands, faces, was so moving to me.

There was also a bi-racial couple there; their older son was on the other team. When the dad arrived to the game, the younger boy shouted, “Dad!” And then bolted off his mom’s lap and ran full speed to meet him. Then the Dad went over to the bench and said hi to every kid on his son’s team. Every one. Then he greeted all the parents with a huge smile, handshake, pat on the back. And he was so…happy. You could not see this man and not smile yourself.

And, on the other team, there was a young boy with Down Syndrome. I will confess that when I saw him and his mother approach the field, I was nervous. With so much talk about bullying and kids being cruel to other kids, I was nervous. Would anyone on my son’s team, or my own son, say something mean or inappropriate? What would the behavior and attitude of the coaches be? His coaches and teammates did not treat him different than any other player. He participated fully in every part of the game. What a gift it was to watch this young man play. And what a gift it was to the young players out there- and to me- that his teammates and coaches treated him with the dignity and respect that he deserves.

All of this sounds like a scene from a bad Hallmark movie. But, it’s true. Perhaps the diverse community that I witnessed has nothing to do with my experience earlier that day. Maybe though, it has everything to do with it. As a person of faith, I believe that the Spirit was tapping me on the shoulder and giving me the grace to see with new, grateful eyes. I was sitting there thinking, “Wow. This is so cool! THIS is where I choose to live and work. All of these wonderful students, people, families, communities, and possibilities are right here. Right in front of my eyes.”

If I had been on my phone or reading, I would have missed all the good things and people that were happening on the baseball field. Earlier that day, I was focused on the wrong things in my interactions with my student and I missed the point. The questions I need to ask are not about her and her past experience, which were beyond her control on some level. The better questions to ask are about me and how I could have seen the situation with different eyes. What could I have done differently? Could I have been a stronger touchstone for this young woman? Although her facade said one thing, underneath she was probably very overwhelmed and confused.

I am going to work to see my students with new eyes. I don’t have to go to orientation. I get to meet a new group of students and help them. I may not be able to change the system they came from, but I can help them navigate the one they are entering.

Each day is a chance to see with new eyes. What are the areas of your life and work that need a new perspective? What will you do today, tomorrow, next week to see with new and grateful eyes?