"Thank You, Disillusionment" is a line in an Alanis Morissette song. Isn't it ironic? At first blush, it sounds ridiculous. But after further thought, it makes so much sense...
You might find that you're going along, minding your own business, driving your SUV or mini-van to and from the office, school, the skating rink, and Whole Foods. Each day feels similar -- same coffee, same shampoo, same boss. These things are familiar, comforting. You might think to yourself "I am settled" or "I have a lot of things that my parents never had" or "I'm doing pretty well for being only __ (insert your age here) years old." And then one day, you really don't feel like getting out of bed. Its like you're wearing leaden pajamas. Your head might be aching, or your back, or even your heart. The thought of drinking that same coffee, washing your hair with that same shampoo, and having to review the same status report with the boss feel like Herculean tasks.
What happened while you were sleeping? Disillusionment crept in. Suddenly, those things that you thought were really important to you, those things that are important to your boss, your neighbor, or E!, are simply not that important. In fact, you might not even be able to remember what is important. Or maybe things have changed, and you hadn't noticed. You might find yourself pulling the covers over your head, or digging your fingernails into the sheets.
What now? How could you possibly rise up out of bed and stumble downstairs? Try this. What does your heart tell you to do? Place your hand over your heart. Take a deep breath. Ask your heart again: "what should I do?" Wait for a minute. What did your heart tell you?
It might have told you to get out of bed, get dressed, and catch the train to the office because doing that will make it possible to take that trip to Hawaii you've always dreamed of, or maybe your heart will tell you that it is absolutely essential that you make major changes in your life, or maybe it will tell you to go play with your dog.
The gift of a flash of disillusionment is that it strikes quickly and with force. It makes us stop and think about how we are living. And it can get us in touch with our heart, and maybe even help us to achieve a sense of clarity about what's most important to us.
Thank you, disillusionment.
This is an idea that I've tossed around in my head for years: is true work-life balance possible?
I have found that life is typically cyclical -- everything goes up and then everything goes down. You are leading a conference for 18 companies over 1,500 miles from home, and your child starts projectile vomiting as you drive to the airport. Or you spend your birthday completely alone, and a rare Saturday birthday at that, and you would give anything to have a couple of expense reports to complete. In this "all or nothing" world, how is it possible to achieve work-life balance?
And why are work and life juxtaposed, as if wholly unrelated and diametrically opposed? Can one not have both fulfilling work and a joyous life? I dare to say - YES! So, I prefer to simply use the term "life balance."
What is your life balance? The very idea may seem a little hazy, or even like something that your neighbor might have, but certainly not you. If you sit and really think about it, what does your ideal life balance look like? What are the things that you value most? Friends? Family? Health? Laughter? Money? Power? Faith? Jogging? Scrapbooking? A Daily Nap? Take a moment to jot down what your heart tells you is most important.
Only you can define the people, ideas, and activities that are most important to you. And those things will always be somewhat at odds with each other -- how are family and money at odds? How about power and health? Which of the items that you wrote down appear to clash?
As we've all heard from childhood: "you can't have your cake and eat it, too!" Well, I say that you can have your cake AND eat it, too! And a cream puff. And homemade blackberry pie. And whole grain vegan rolls. You just can't have them all at once.
So, to me, life balance is something to be thought of in months or years, not days or weeks. Think about it. You may be feeling bad about not working out this morning, but how many times were you able to go for a mind-clearing jog in February? Or you may be disappointed that an old friend didn't return your call, but how many laughter-filled lunches have you had in the last month with friends old and new? Or you may feel stressed out by a looming deadline at work, but how many times were you able to leave work early (or on time) last month to cheer a child on at a sporting event?
Those cherished moments, those light spots in an often dark world, are what life balance is about. I suggest that for one month you keep track of the number of times that you express or enjoy the most valued things that you wrote down earlier. What do you discover? What will you have for dessert?
In an effort to learn a new skill and remain physically active, I’ve started taking adult figure skating lessons. Each week, five women and our coach take the ice and practice our basic skills. This week, we were practicing backward crossovers. We are all ringing a blue circle in the ice, focusing intently on moving our bodies in the proper way. Our bodies are hunched up, with our shoulders elevated and our fingers splayed wide, looking something like the zombies from Michael Jackson’s Thriller video.
Our furrowed brows and pursed lips show how hard we are trying… how hard we are trying not to fall. This strikes me as being in stark contrast with how my daughter and her friends are on the ice. In fact, it is not uncommon for a figure skater to fall 10 times in a 30-minute period. That is how they learn to execute the skills correctly, and ultimately how they learn not to fall.
As adults, many of us have forgotten how to fall. Why? It is likely a combination of ego and the fear of the physical pain that comes with falling. So we try desperately not to fall… moving our bodies and brains to ridiculous limits, simply not to look embarrassed. And then we stop trying new things.
In our careers, we are often looking to avoid situations in which we might fall. So we come up with excuses — I’m too busy, I forgot, I already now how to do it. Or, if we do fall, it was because the ice was bumpy, or that other guy got in our way, or we were distracted by all of the other things that were on our mind at the time.
If you watch a child fall while skating, they spring right back up and do exactly the same thing again, this time working harder not to fall, or even asking a coach how to improve their technique to limit the chance of falling. And guess what, they fall less and less until they’ve mastered the skill.
So I ask you to try to fall this week — either physically or metaphorically. Try something that intrigues you, something that you’re not yet good at, and discover the gift of falling.
On the job, as in life, we learn to tell others what to do. We first learn these skills when we are in our earliest positions of power, such as big brother or older neighbor to easily influenced siblings or neighbors. We tell them “It would save Mom money if we cut our own hair — why don’t you go first?” or “Ride this plastic horse down the stairs and let’s see what happens.” In so doing, we learn how powerful we are to influence others.
As we grow older, we refine our techniques. We might say “You’re doing that wrong, you need to hold your handlebars like this.” No longer content to simply make suggestions, we now want them to act in exactly the way we’ve told them.
As we begin in a career, we once again become that younger neighbor. Invariably, there is someone in the cube next to you, let’s call her Shelly, who has 3 1/2 months more experience than you do, and she’s taking us under her wing to “show us the ropes.” With an air of confidence, she imparts to us, “Never talk to Fred before 10AM, he’s a real jerk before he’s had three cups of coffee,” or “Be sure and leave work right at 5:25 so you can ride down in the elevator with the boss.” And, as we want to get ahead at the firm, we listen and imitate Shelly. Shelly feels powerful, and we do not. We resent Shelly.
This changes when we become the boss. We become that big brother or sister again, and we proceed to tell our direct reports, and perhaps some of our weaker peers, how to think and act. In the interest of helping, we re-write faulty memos and tell them exactly what to say when they’re making a presentation in front of the big boss. Feeling good in our newfound confidence, we begin to make suggestions about where they might want to consider buying a condo, or what school at which to get their MBA (your alma mater, of course!).
Suddenly, you find yourself offended that the employee bought a condo across town from your recommendation. Just as the big brother dismisses his younger sister when she resists his suggestion of how to wash the family dog in chocolate milk, we are surprised. What a stupid thing to do! “They must be too green to know better,” we say knowingly. “Perhaps I shouldn’t trust her judgment so much,” we note. We become more guarded in our interactions with them, and the relationship and the work suffers.
We only become more powerful as a manager when we realize that it is not the suggestion that limits us, but rather our emotional investment in having our suggestion (order?) followed. We are not genuinely interested in our co-worker finding a condo that he loves, but rather in him following our suggestion. Why? Probably because it validates our power as the authority.
So the next time you are tempted to tell a team-member how to do something, what if you asked her how she would like to do it, first? You might be surprised that she plans to do it the same way you would. And to that you could say, “great idea.” Therein lies the power of leadership.
