The most recent addition to the list of things I wish someone had asked me when I was younger:

For years, I’ve asked myself “When I’m 90, will this matter…?” as a tool to help me let go of the small stuff or to quickly put something that feels massive into perspective within the context of my own life. It didn’t click that I could also apply this question to how I was prioritizing all of the puzzle pieces that form my life — especially work itself.

We’ve all been socialized to put so much weight on work. From the time we can speak, most adults ask the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” In this question, “be” has a very limited scope. If a child responds with “I want to be kind,” we would chuckle and find it endearing, since that’s not really what that question is about … we want to know what kind of work the child wants to do. Let’s sit with that for a little bit. We want to know what kind of work the child wants to do. When we get older and meet someone new, almost always the first question is, “What do you do?” It’s as if the single most important defining factor of who we are as people is our job.

If we all had the opportunity to determine work that sincerely brings us joy, and then land in that line of that work, then perhaps this profound focus on work would be a huge positive for our personal well-beings.

Therein lies the problem. Most of us do not know what sort of work would bring us sincere joy. Most of us pick something because we have to or we just sort of land into something and we all know how easily and how quickly you can start to feel stuck … either because you’ve already spent so much time (and/or money) invested into the path or you have responsibilities that make any other choice feel impossible.

And therein lies an even bigger problem. Deciding to change your path does not always yield support from those we need it from most.

And even still, there is yet an even larger problem. We land where we land and unless you are your own boss (and maybe even if you are) so much is beyond your control when it comes to work — what if your boss is a jerk? What if your coworkers are jerks? What if you love your gig, but you get laid off? What if, what if, what if…

There is all of this socialization that causes us to focus on something — work — so hard that we can’t help but want that thing — work — to be a source of positivity and happiness. And here we arrive at why this dynamic is entirely @#$%ed. For most of us, this mess doesn’t benefit us. For most of us, work is hollow, or a source of anxiety, or any number of things far from a sense of meaning and purpose, far from consistent, nurturing positivity, and far from a source of joy and happiness. Yet, work comes out on top as our number one priority.

Why? Why do we so consistently invest our best everything into work? When you’re 90, will you wonder why you made work your first priority?

• Will work be there by your side?
• Will work be there to remind you of the most important moments?
• Will work fill the memories you look upon with gratitude and fulfillment?

When you’re 90, will you wish you had worked more? Spent more time at work? Sacrificed even more with family and friends?

No.

So, forget answering why this is what it is. And instead, let’s focus on what to do instead.

What if we treat work like the contractual obligation it is? That is, after all, how work treats us. That is what we are seeing every day in the headlines during this global pandemic. Company after company seems to have enough to pay shareholders, yet is laying off hundreds of thousands of regular people. Even before this, companies in most states can terminate employment with no explanation, no notice, nothing. Yet, to maintain professional decorum, we need to give ample notice of our intentions to move on.

These are some of the things that I know:

• I know there are good companies in the world.
• And the few lucky enough to work at them, that is fantastic.
• And I know some people are lucky enough to find their ikigai.
• And I know we all have to work.
• And I know we all spend most of our waking hours at work.

I’m not saying we shouldn’t show up and do a great job. I am not saying we shouldn’t have a strong work ethic. We should show up and do a great job. We should have a strong work ethic. That is precisely what I mean.

We should honor our contractual obligation to the fullest.

We should not put things that don’t care about our well being before ourselves.

These are also some things that help me remember what matters:

• Take time off (if you are privileged enough to have paid time off)
• Disengage at night and on the weekends
• Build relationships outside of work (some will form at work, too, and that’s great; cherish them)
• Have an honest chat with yourself and understand your needs and desires and how you can fulfill those in a way that has nothing to do with work — or if it’s all about work, that’s okay! — at least you’ve made it an active choice
• Define who you are for yourself on your terms and it’s okay if that doesn’t involve work at all
• Really think about it what it means if you choose work (for something likely not urgent) over those you love

When you’re 90, you should be able to look back on your life and be happy with how you spent your time and energy. That starts now with every decision you make. And for most of us, it means prioritizing many other things ahead of work during non-work time.

I don’t remember what happened that had me upset — which probably already says a lot. I do remember standing next to my coworker by the department printer. I was ranting to him about something. I was 25. When I finished, he looked me in the eye and said, “Virginia, maybe you just need to care less.”

I left that conversation angry. I recounted it to others and concluded that perhaps that was the problem … maybe if others cared more, then ______ [seriously, insert just about anything you can think of] would be better. I truly believed not caring (or not caring enough) was the problem.

I was 25.

And I would have repeated everything about that moment when I was 26, 27, 28, 29, 30 … all the way up until this year … I am now 37.

It took me 12 years to understand what my coworker was saying. I mean, to really get it. He was entirely correct, though he delivered it in exactly the wrong way to me.

I am someone who values human connection above all else. Things that make me upset almost always concern the suffering of others. Any injustice, no matter how small, has always felt too much to me. I’ve spent decades expending loads of energy taking it on, maybe doing some good, but mostly, not really impacting a damn thing.

This is what I wish my coworker had said all those years ago: “Maybe you just need to think about why you care.”

That would have made me pause and introspect. Perhaps some of my recent realizations would have happened much, much sooner. I’m not one to dwell on what could have been. Rather, I want to celebrate and share what it has taken me far too long to learn.

If you force yourself to understand why you care, you might learn all sorts of things … really get to the root cause of your emotion. This will let you realize that it’s not that you care about 100 things; there are themes and in the end, you have a much shorter list of things about which you care. So, it’s all about caring — I mean really caring — about less. Less is more. Or, if that idea feels uncomfortable, it’s about prioritizing.

Prioritize the things about which you believe you care. And spend your energy accordingly.

In the very near future, it is quite likely that many companies will find it hard to remain viable and sustain themselves if they don’t move to an all-remote or remote-first model. And now, all of a sudden, thousands of companies have to switch overnight to be remote companies. The best thing that can happen is if this ends up being the first step toward a paradigm shift where remote is the preferred option.

You can find hundreds of other articles and posts about how to do remote work well. Instead…

Let’s talk about why all-remote/remote-first is better.

First thing first: definition of terms paraphrased from something Gitlab kindly published and super simplified in the caveat in what Help Scout just published to help during this uncharted time. It’s a spectrum:

• No remote: When a company requires you to work in a physical office, no exceptions. Often these companies have multiple offices and therefore have a distributed workforce.
• Remote-allowed: When a company allows employees to work remotely occasionally, or part of the time. The bias is still toward being physically present in an office.
• Hybrid-remote: When a company allows some employees to work remotely as their standard (this is often done for sales reps, for example).
• Remote, biased towards one timezone: When a company allows everyone to work remotely, but requires a certain number of standard hours when everyone is online together.
• All-remote: When a company does not have any offices, everyone is 100% remote, and timezone is not a requirement, putting a preference on asynchronous communication over anything synchronous.
• Remote-first: Some combination of the above where communication and working agreements are designed into the culture, as if the company is all-remote, even if there are some offices. Remote-first can serve as a bridge toward all-remote or improve hybrid-remote situations.

All-remote or remote-first is the most brilliant move a company can make. It is the key to more engaged and productive employees. It is the key to making this globalized world work. It is the key to work-life balance and rediscovering meaning in our lives beyond our work. And again, in the very near future, it is quite likely that many companies will find it hard to remain viable and sustain themselves if they don’t move to an all-remote or remote-first model.

Here are 9 reasons why all-remote/remote-first is better.

1. Increased diversity. All-remote companies are not limited to a small radius around an office to find people with the skills they need. They can hire from anywhere in the world. This means all-remote companies can more easily have diverse teams and take advantage of the many researched and proven benefits that comes with diversity.
2. Easier autonomy. In an all-remote company, leaders cannot micromanage as a fallback to ensure results. If you can’t stop by your employee’s desk and check-up on their work, you have to be better at setting clear expectations. Focusing on alignment increases the success rate of autonomy, which is one of the most powerful ways to keep someone engaged. Trust them and they will work harder and better than if they feel constantly micromanaged.
3. Out of sight but not forgotten. The simple fact that no one is co-located means that all-remote companies don’t see the same problems as companies with a mix of office(s) and remote employees. When you are remote to an office or in different offices, you are often out of sight, out of mind. It’s easy for people to forget to include you — in meetings, communication, special events. It’s not intentional, it’s just how our brains work, but it still sucks to be the person or group that is forgotten.
4. More flexibility. All-remote companies afford their employees way more flexibility. Just removing the time it takes to commute makes it much easier to schedule appointments and drop-off/pick-up schedules for people who have children. Not being tied to an office lets people work from anywhere. They can travel for longer periods since they are not limited to just the period of approved time-off. I suppose you could have an all-remote company that is strict about when people work, but the current trend with those companies paving the way is that employees are trusted to get their work done, be present for team meetings, etc, and it’s okay to schedule things when you need to. The current all-remote companies are setting the standard and in the future, it would be pretty hard for a company to not have flexibility be synonymous with all-remote.
5. Healthier. All-remote companies afford their employees a lot of opportunity to be healthier. It’s easier to schedule doctor visits if you have a more flexible schedule. Removing the commute from the equation means your days likely start with way less stress and end with less stress. You get to choose your own work environment — either home or a co-working space. It’s easier to eat healthier and take care of little things around the house if you choose to work from your home. Some days, nothing beats working in sweatpants. Because everyone is remote at an all-remote company, there is less pressure to be the one staying online as if you have to prove you’re working too being remote from everyone else, making it easier to stop working than at companies with a mix of office(s) and remote employees.
6. More mindful. Working remotely requires you to be more mindful. You have to decide to stop working each day. You have to plan to leave the house. The requirement to be more deliberate makes you more mindful. All-remote companies tend to be better at ensuring employees don’t burn out, proactively creating a culture where no one is expected to be on 24/7. Again, I suppose you could have an all-remote company that doesn’t put care into this, but since the current all-remote companies do and they are the ones setting the standard, in the future it would be pretty hard for a company to not do this, too.
7. Better, more productive work. Yes, it takes adjustment, but all-remote companies make it easier for their employees to do their best work. There are fewer unavoidable interruptions. You get more focused time to get things done. The asynchronous activity required to collaborate also causes work to happen at a slightly slower pace, which looks to increase the level of quality of the work. For all the reasons above, those working at all-remote companies seem more engaged, happier; these positive emotions create a chain reaction, spurring positivity from employee to employee.
8. Better for the environment. Even if an all-remote company flies everyone to a single location for a retreat twice a year, they are still better for the environment. There is less trash, less (if any) commutes, less everything you need to run an office.
9. More money available. All-remote companies save a lot of money by not having offices. Again, even if an all-remote company flies everyone to a single location for a retreat twice a year, this is still less of a budget hit. What all-remote companies do with these additional funds varies, but all seem to invest more in employee benefits than other companies.

It’s not all sunshine and rainbows and unicorns, of course. All-remote is hard … but not any harder than no remote. People are people and the things that make all-remote hard are just different challenges, not harder challenges. Some challenges you’ll need to prepare for include:

• Learning the ropes. You will likely need to help folks acclimate to working all-remote, favoring asynchronous communication over synchronous. Also helping folks understand many more cultures.
• Time zones are hard. The more all-remote companies hire people across time zones, the harder it can be for people to find time to work together synchronously (which can be important for collaboration).
• Lack of emotional cues. Not being able to see your coworkers means you can’t observe how they seem to be doing. Emotions are invisible within all-remote companies and can result in poorly timed conversations or lack of empathy for each other..
• Things can linger. It takes longer when much of your work is asynchronous. It can take longer to solve hard problems or do creative and highly collaborative work. This can make hard problems seem bigger simply because you are living with them longer. This can cause loss of momentum in the midst of collaboration.

You will have challenges no matter what. The benefits of all-remote outweigh the challenges, and none of the challenges are impossible to resolve. What’s that saying? The grass is greenest … where you water it.

It’s a dark time for the world with a tremendous amount of uncertainty. Making this time worth it is important. One thing we can do is make #wfh move from a trending hashtag to tomorrow’s norm. The world will ultimately be a better place for it.

Here are some ideas to meet the needs that may otherwise go neglected in a world of social distancing and quarantine.

How was your day? Until now, it was easy to take for granted parts of your day being yours and not involving the people you live with. Recreate that. Plan to do some things separately so you can talk about it later.

Quiet hour(s). This may be especially helpful if you are living with people. Pick an hour (or a few throughout the day) and everyone goes to a separate room or part of a room. Don’t talk. Agree to do your own thing (which may be to do absolutely nothing). This is very helpful for those who truly need a little bit of space to unwind or relax. I am sure there could be many creative variations if there are small children in the house. The intent is to make it so folks don’t have to ask for space, but the space is planned upon, agreed to, and honored.

Games, all the games. Whatever game suits your fancy, game nights are far from overrated, especially now. Games engage our minds, pass time, and hopefully offer some laughs along the way. For those living alone, there are often solo versions of multi-player games, and plenty of ideas online. And if you’ve never gotten into PC gaming, now might be the time — I recommend Kind Words for those taking that first step. With the right game, you can easily bond with folks and create a sense of community all from the comfort of your own home. Like books and movies, games can also provide a sense of escape that is critical when your world just shrunk from multiple locations and freedom of movement to the same four walls.

Gossip hour. By gossip, I mean: casual or unconstrained conversation or reports about other people, which often involve details that may not be confirmed, as part of the process of confirming them or building understanding. Gossip gets a bad rap because it can too quickly devolve to something counterproductive or hurtful. Yet, gossip is an important part of the human experience. We all do it, whether we want to admit it or not. And most of us keep it healthy. You may have just lost all of your sources of this because you aren’t going to the office, or a party, etc. Enter reality TV. Pick a show and agree with a few friends or coworkers to watch the same episode and schedule a time to gossip about it in group text/chat or over video.

Text someone (or everyone). It can’t be said enough that this is a hard, uncertain time. We are all in various stages of a million emotions. And now more than ever, we need connection. Go through your phone and text someone, or everyone. Just a well wish. A kind word. A how are you. Don’t expect a response, that’s not the point (though that’s a great added benefit). Just put a bit of kindness out there appreciating we all probably need a little more right now.

Dance party. Put on some music and dance! Even if you hate dancing, movement is important and will feel good. For those few minutes the song is playing, even a small room can grow in size.

Scavenger hunt. You can do this with folks you live with, or over text/chat with your friends. Someone needs to make the list and then post pictures of the found items. This idea came from some folks I work with for our company retreat that will now be done remotely. I love everything about this idea and really just want to do a scavenger hunt every day, all day, with all my various friend groups.

Go for a walk or a hike. If you are just practicing social distancing and not under quarantine, go for a walk or a hike. Just be sure to maintain the recommended physical distance between you and anyone you see out there. Enjoy the fresh air and city or nature scape. This is especially useful for folks who are opting out of the gym right now and need movement. Walking is also a powerful way to clear your head or have a different kind of conversation than you might sitting on the couch.

TIL (today I learned). Go learn something solo or with those you live with and/or friends. Watch a TED talk or read some blogs and learn new information. Or pick a topic and go all-in. You can take free courses from top universities or choose from free finish-in-a-day courses. Learning something (big or small) opens certain parts of your brain and can force new perspectives.

Book club. So many of us feel like we never have time to read. Now we have all the time. Even better if you can get others to join in so you can talk about the book along the way or after finishing. And like gaming or watching a movie, reading can provide an escape. There is nothing wrong with wanting to feel part of another world right now.

Create a new space. Turn a part of your home into something new. Move a couple of chairs and create a cafe for the morning. If you live with others, you can take turns and surprise each other. Shifting your atmosphere around to simulate being out and about at restaurants, cafes, and bars can help break-up the feeling of being trapped.

Arts and crafts. So basic, but it works because it’s tactical. It satiates a part of our brain that we might not even use normally and can provide tremendous calm or creative outlet. You likely have things somewhere already in your home and so far we can still order things online.

Pen pal. Ask one of your friends to be your pen pal. Write each other emails and throw back to a time when we didn’t have such instant communication. You may find that you share different things than you would over text, or that the conversation goes deeper.

Secret joy fairy. It’s sort of like secret santa. Identify some friends who want to participate. One person can write down everyone’s names and draw names one-by-one to randomly pair folks. This will work best over video so you can show the person the name and not see it yourself. Or, have someone not participating do this part for the group. Determine the frequency. When the time comes, find a way to bring a little joy to the person you are matched with. This could be a text, or a silly electronic card, the list goes on. You could do it daily or weekly and stop after a week (if you do it daily) or a month, depending on what feels best for the group.

Just sit and do nothing. This may be hard to do at first, especially if you are feeling confined. But if you can, find your favorite place to sit in the house. Sit there and do nothing. Just stare off into space and let your mind wander. If you are a particularly creative person, this will help open those parts of your brain if they are feeling a bit stuck right now. Or, if you have a knowledge worker job, this can be a powerful way to figure out how to solve a problem you’ve been working on. Don’t sit with intent to think about anything in particular, just let your mind go at its own pace to wherever it wants.

Together, apart. Identify a group of your friends to participate. Pick something to do — cook pancakes, watch a movie, make a necklace. Agree to do the day you want to do the thing and regardless of timezones, share pictures or videos with each other over the course of the day. It will create a shared experience, even if you can’t do it at the same time. This is especially helpful for larger groups across multiple locations.

Make it all virtual. If you miss your friends, invite them to join … over video. There are many free video clients out there (Zoom, 8x8, Hangouts). Video will never replace what happens in-person, but it’s still an amazing proxy and important tool in a time where we need connection. Most ideas here can work over video. And there are lots of others, like having a virtual dinner party with a handful of folks, or a virtual happy hour, or anything, really.

Anticipation. Anticipation in our lives happens naturally by making plans and that might feel impossible now. Make plans to do these or other activities so you have things coming up over the week or month to which you are looking forward. This may help with some of the harder moments.

The list goes on and this is just meant to be a start.

We don’t know how long we will be living like this. Let’s make the best of it, share what we are doing to cope, learn from another, and try to find the best way through to the other side.

It sucks. It’s uncomfortable. It may already be causing stress and anger. The reason for your world suddenly shrinking is a source of worry and uncertainty, maybe even anxiety and fear.

It’s unnatural to be dealing with these new realities. I don’t know that anything in our evolution as a species has prepared us for this.

Turns out, my entire life has somehow prepared me for a world of social distancing and quarantine.

• I’ve observed quarantine for the last 27 years. When I was 10 years old, my mom stopped feeling like she was able to leave the house. All of that is a separate story and not mine to tell. What matters is that I watched my parent’s world grow to just be that of their home. I grew up navigating a constant reconciliation of my big, huge, multi-location world with their tiny, insular, just them 24x7 world.
• I am an introvert’s introvert in a world made for extroverts. I am that friend that may cancel because I energize by having alone time. Yet, we live in a world where it’s a bit easier to flourish if you are extroverted. Which means, I’ve had to put in the hard work to appreciate that me not wanting to go to a party doesn’t mean I’m a failure as a human. All of this is now flipped and extroverts are suddenly living in a moment that might feel more familiar to an introvert
• I’ve been working remotely (from home) for the last 6 months. The transition from a co-located office environment to working from home is super fresh. I remember all of the details of the big changes and the micro changes I made to make home double as a workplace without losing a feeling of home. If home can double, maybe it can triple or quadruple and be many things all at once.

I can’t make this pandemic go away, but I can share a few things that may help you today or in the coming weeks … months. And mostly, I am hoping that if we can see the world publish 1000s of things about working from home, then maybe we can start this conversation, too, and more fully help each other make it through this uncertain, unfamiliar, unnatural time.

This is about living — really living. To fend off cabin fever, we must prevent boredom so we can preserve our ability to try to be our best selves. It won’t be the same. It won’t be perfect. But maybe it will help you get by and take some of the edge off.

Identify your needs and those of everyone in the house

There are two parts to this. There is the obvious list of needs, derived by asking everyone the obvious question “What are your needs in this situation?” Spend time making sure you really understand what everyone is sharing. If someone struggles to answer, that’s okay. This could be the first time that some folks have really thought in this way. Another way to ask is “What do you think is going to make this really hard for you?” For example, you might learn that you really need a little time alone between ending work and coming home (that you won’t have with the absence of a commute). Help each other out. Share what you wonder someone might need based on your observations to help make sure the list is as complete as possible.

Then, there is the less obvious part. Map the normal days that you have just left behind. List the activities and the location of each of these activities. Identify what you’re going to miss about each of these things, or what benefit each of these things offers you. For example, you might learn that you and your partner have different types of conversations when going out for dinner versus being at home sitting at the dining table.

Make a plan for how to meet all of these needs, at least 80% of the way there

From the start, resolve to not leave any need behind! It won’t be easy. You might need to spend hours or a few days figuring out how it is you are going to meet all of these needs, especially the trickier ones that at first pass, feel like impossibilities if you can’t leave your house or be in a large group. The goal isn’t a one-to-one 100% match. The goal is to just get 80% of the way there. If you feed off of the energy of parties, that will be hard to recreate, but dig in and brainstorm. What is it about that energy? Is there a way to get close to it by having a bunch of your friends join a video call together, drinks in hand, chatting? Or, join the video call and put on music and all get up and dance. Not perfect by any means, but an attempt that if you follow-through, will almost always be better than having not tried.

Stick to the plan no matter how ridiculous it feels

It will feel completely ridiculous at times. It’s important to stick with your plan and go all-in. The more you do silly things, the easier it gets, and the more you end up enjoying them. The key is to push through and get to the other side of the initial awkwardness. Remember, you are trying to prevent boredom and for those of you living with others, not annoying each other to the point of no return. You are also trying to live in a different, new, unnatural way. Lean into it.

Check-in, learn, and adjust

Some things you try will work and other things won’t. You may even realize something that feels like a need becomes less so or evolves. New needs may emerge. Talk about it. What’s working? What’s not? Why? Adjust your plan. Rinse. Repeat.

Here are some ideas to make the best of living in a world of social distancing and quarantine and the needs they might serve. And at the very least:

• Give each other space
• Do special things
• Do ordinary things

We don’t know how long we will be living like this. Let’s make the best of it, share what we are doing to cope, learn from another, and try to find the best way through to the other side.

Intention gives you purpose, reason, motive — all the things that are the foundation of something being a truly meaningful way to spend your time. When you couple traditions with intention, you understand…

• Why you have the tradition
• What the purpose is of the tradition
• How the tradition adds value to your life

We often trick ourselves into maintaining traditions for the wrong reasons. For example, my partner and I spent many dates at a certain bar. We loved the bartenders, the menu, and the overall vibe. We made sure that it was part of our anniversary each year. Then, our favorite bartenders left. The menu changed. The overall vibe was no longer something either of us particularly loved. There was a sadness to going somewhere else on our latest anniversary celebration, but we opted to do so to maintain our tradition. Our tradition wasn’t about the place. Our tradition was about how we felt sitting at a bar together, chatting over a drink, being in our own little world in the midst of a positive, warm vibe. Changing venues allowed us to preserve the intention of our tradition and prevented it from becoming a rut.

By focusing on the intention, you can quickly determine two very important things:

1. Whether the tradition truly matters
2. Whether the tradition needs to evolve to meet the intention

Intention allows you to keep traditions something to which you look forward and from which you benefit, beautiful moments to pause and add meaningful value to your life.

It is there that the colors burst so loud the entire world falls silent, soundless for a calm wild moment

These are the moments I am nothing more than truly me and I finally make sense

I exist in this weird beautiful gray space where I’m uncomfortably okay with impermanence

I can miss someone deeply and not miss them at all

The duality and nuance of what I feel sits together side by side, firing across all my synapsis in perfect confusing harmony

Here is my soul, in my hands, curling around my fingers, dripping to the floor

When I set my soul here

If I had known

When I set my soul here

I didn’t understand that the word vulnerable means to remove skin

So I stand here without skin, my soul in my hands, vulnerable to hope and disappointment as though caught in a beautifully wild dance that is leaving me at once dizzy and breathing calm

Which means: when I feel, it comes from some place deep

Like reaching into my belly button and through and through the muscle and fat and tissue and farther, past that space where my ribs meet and out past my spine, beyond my body, beyond my being, into a place where there is so much noise, all that can be heard is silence

There is an expanse of gray between black and white

It is there that the colors burst so loud the entire world falls silent, soundless for a calm wild moment

😀 Don’t be that person. Be this person.

Here is how you do not want someone to whom you delegate to feel:

• Why even ask me to do this, if you’re just gonna babysit my every move?
• What was the point, if you’re just gonna take credit for all the work I did?
• Oh, I see, I’m doing your job for you; why are you even here?

These are the most common results from poor delegation practices. They earn you fancy labels like “micromanager,” “credit stealer,” and “advantage taker.”

The end goal of delegation is leave the person to whom you delegated feeling like this:

• Wow, I learned so much doing that!
• Now that I’ve done that, I am ready for ….!
• Thank you for trusting me!
• It felt so good to be recognized for that!

Delegation should feel like a gift, not one more thing causing yet another long and/or bad day.

🚫 Before you even dare think of delegating

You must build a strong foundation. You need to have your team dynamic and your individual relationships with each member of your team in a healthy place. If you can’t respond with an enthusiastic yes! to all of the following questions, then you have some work to do before you start delegating.

1. Are you self-aware? It can be very tempting to tell someone how to do something you’re used to doing and maybe even be really good at. Focus on what you need and why it matters, not how to do it (unless you are asked). Ideally, if you start rambling about how, you’ll catch yourself. That’s where self-awareness comes in.
2. Are the responsibilities/tasks of each role within your team (including yours) clear and transparent to the entire team? Your team needs to understand what is expected of them and each other, and also you. Taking time to write this down goes a very long way. Your team will have a clearer sense of ownership and likely take more ownership as a result. Your team will be able to identify things they want to learn and/or try. And bonus, your team will likely see more clearly the value you bring to the team.
3. Does each member of your team (including you) trust and respect each other? Mutual trust and respect is the first layer of building psychological safety, which is critical for people to feel comfortable taking risks. Doing new things is all about what can feel like one of the biggest risks of all: failure. The process of accepting delegated work can surface vulnerabilities that are easily mitigated with true psychological safety.
4. Does each member of your team (including you) believe it’s safe to fail? This may well be the ultimate sign that your team has true psychological safety. Your team will only believe this to be true if they have examples of it being true. Let them fail, be sure they know it’s okay, and coach them to learn from it. The moment you lose your temper or show any signs you’re disappointed, you send the very clear message that failure is not okay. It’s really hard to come back from that.
5. Do you understand the strengths and growth opportunities for each member of your team (including you)? Delegating something that plays on a strength will be a different experience than something that highlights a growth opportunity. You may have to provide more coaching and encouragement, perhaps even training, for the latter. Linking a to-be-done delegated thing to either a strength or a growth opportunity will quickly tell you the level of effort you can expect for yourself, as well as the time necessary to complete the work.
6. Do you know how each member of your team wants to outgrow themselves? Understanding what your team members want for their career growth can uncover all sorts of delegation opportunities. If you have something to delegate that would help someone get to where they want to go, it’s probably a very good idea to do so.
7. Does every member of your team understand the purpose and direction/goals of their work? This is the first step of aligning your team. The more aligned your team is, the easier it is to delegate more than just tasks — you can delegate harder things, like responsibilities and decisions. Delegation will surface misalignment and that’s okay! Learn and grow from it. So long as you have some initial, basic alignment on the team, it’s okay to learn and grow together through the harder things that delegation surfaces.

Attempting delegation without this strong foundation is risky and could result in those fancy labels we talked about a big ago.

💡Decide what to delegate

That’s the dictionary definition of “delegate.” It’s spot on in that it leads with the idea of trust. It’s a bit archaic in that it mentions tasks and responsibilities, but not decisions (which can be the real magic). So, let’s go ahead and modify it so we can talk about this fully:

Delegation can be as much about helping your team grow as it can be about helping yourself grow. It’s certainly more of an art than it is a specific, always-do-it-this-way formula. Here are some questions you can ask yourself to help you decide if and what to delegate, and to who:

1. Is the person meeting expectations? If not, is there anything on my plate that could help them learn whatever they need to better meet expectations? Or, does delegating to them jeopardize their success in their current role?
2. Where does this person want to go, how do they want to grow? What is on my plate that will help them?
3. What am I really good at that I might find hard to delegate and therefore, probably should?
4. What am I not so good at that would be better done by someone else, without forcing someone else to do my job for me?
5. Am I at a senior level and spending more time “doing” than thinking, discussing, and deciding? If so, I’m likely doing work that I’ve hung on to as I’ve progressed my career and it’s time to let go.

It can also be helpful to just let folks opt-in. “Here are things on my plate… If you want to own any of this or help, let me know!”

🚨 Gut check yourself

Now that you think you know what makes sense to delegate, it’s time to gut check yourself.

And a few tips if you’re particularly worried about taking advantage of someone (and you should be!):

• Delegating things as a one-time effort can usually mitigate situations where someone ends up unfairly doing your job for you.
• You can adjust job responsibilities and increase someone’s pay if it makes sense to make what you delegated a regular part of that person’s job.
• If someone is very near a promotion, it may be okay to delegate via a transition of responsibilities to help them prepare/prove themselves. Just be sure to take those things back if the promotion doesn’t happen.

🏆 Define success

Now that you know what to delegate and you’ve made sure it’s healthy to do so, it’s time to define what success looks like. Before the member of your team starts working on the task, responsibility, or decision you’ve delegated, they should understand what success looks like. Forcing yourself to define this upfront ensures that expectations are clear and that you’re focused on the why and what, not the how.

🎉 Coach, encourage, and celebrate

While the member of your team works on what you’ve delegated, be sure to support them fully to reap the mutual rewards delegation offers.

• Coach. They will have questions. Coach them. Be sure they have training if they need it to be properly enabled to try something for the first time. Pair them with someone who might be able to mentor them and provide additional support. Give them space to make it theirs and do things their way.
• Encourage. They will have moments of doubt. Encourage them. Be vulnerable with them and share times when you’ve felt uncertain about whether you could do something you thought you wanted to do. Remind them it’s okay to fail. Remind them of what’s expected of them and adjust if it’s needed.
• Celebrate. Regardless of the outcome, celebrate. If it’s a success, give them credit and be sure they are properly recognized. If it’s a failure, talk about what you’ve both learned and celebrate the journey together.

And now, when you hear yourself suggesting to someone else that they should delegate more … you have this blog to help them learn how.

• I am not alone in these experiences.
• Too many of us still choose silence for very valid reasons.
• At some point, there was a shift and I am no longer able to choose silence.
• These days, silence hurts me more than trying to speak up.
• I want you to know you are not alone.

I know that speaking up is not always easy. And since I have it in me to do so, I know that I must. I also know that I need to be open about why I have it in me to do so — I have privilege:

• I am white
• I have a master’s degree
• I appear to be able bodied
• I appear to be straight
• I speak English as my native language
• I am now middle class
• I have a strong support network
• I was born a lion and I am not sorry

I know that this privilege has helped me be fearless, courageous, brave, resilient, and strong.

If you still struggle to acknowledge your own privilege or feel angry when someone points out that you come from a place of privilege, then read this by the brilliant and empowering Maisha Z. Johnson and get over yourself. Now is the time to understand your privilege and speak the f*** up to truly help those most vulnerable among us.

So, here I am with privilege, with a voice I feel I can choose to use, with something I need to write, something I need to share.

I thought I needed to write about why I quit a company I was only at for just a few months. It was an unsavory series of events that left me feeling personally attacked, verbally assaulted, gaslit, and humiliated, that led me to choose to leave. It was bad. It was so very clearly fueled by blatant sexism, a lack of caring, and cowardice.

I have since realized, I need to write about what happened after. I need to write about what happens after you have been treated less than.

It all happened so fast. I quit on the spot, though I didn’t realize I had until I recounted the story to my partner later that night. I am financially obligated to my parents and it hit me that I had created massive risk for my family. That’s how bad it was, what happened … I quit on the spot out of a fierce and nearly biological need to protect myself. I felt afraid. How was I going to pay for my parents’ medications? The mortgage? The fear was real enough that I was talked into giving a second chance to the person who made me feel less than. The next day, I was told that he just couldn’t work with me anymore and so we were back to the fact that I had quit … only this time with my agency removed and the humiliation magnified. It’s like when you break-up with someone, they somehow play on your emotions to get back together with them, so that they can break-up with you. The fear turned to anger. The anger was not directed at any one person, but rather the situation itself and a system that allows people with profound privilege to still get away with so much.

I had informally agreed to a long transition out of the company and I started to realize the psychological cost of honoring that agreement. I was breaking and was unsure how I was supposed to get through each of the coming days without completely shattering.

Again, I am privileged. My partner offered me the support I needed to honor my original, almost biological instinct to just get out and quit on the spot. I accepted his support and formalized my resignation.

I felt relieved, but I didn’t feel better. There was this heaviness that I couldn’t put my finger on. I ignored it and went about searching for a new job. Later that week, nearly two weeks after the incident, I realized why I felt so heavy. I felt ashamed. I felt embarrassed. I felt like I had to choose silence. I felt like somehow it wasn’t okay to talk about what happened. And that all f***ing hurt.

There it is … there is the reality of the harm of sexism, racism, gaslighting … of making people feel less than …. Those who are the victims of this bullsh*t often end up feeling ashamed, as if they have done something wrong.

I broke my silence and posted on LinkedIn.

Acknowledging that this big thing in my life happened brought me back to myself. I felt the heaviness lessen and I could breathe again. Breaking my silence also meant concerned friends reached out. Each time I told the story of what happened, I felt less ashamed, less embarrassed. The validation made it impossible for me to write myself off. The support from those who know me well and those who do not was this unforeseen precious gift … I didn’t have to be alone in this.

Just today, I received this email from someone with even more privilege than me who was horrified by what I shared with him about why I quit on the spot and what I was hoping to find going forward — I didn’t know him before any of this happened:

I think I said this before but I’ll say it again — I really enjoyed our conversation a few weeks back — it further opened my eyes about things and has inspired me to have some uncomfortable conversations/make some tough decisions (hopefully for the better) in the short time since we met.

He is a friend of a friend and we had a moving conversation that filled me with hope and made it impossible for me to grant anymore excuses to those involved in what transpired to create this event in my life. I needed that more than I knew until it happened. I suppose that’s how these things can work. We don’t know what we need until it happens.

All of this to say 3 things that feel overwhelmingly important for me to say:

1. If you are not woke, I am done with you. If you don’t look around right now and feel frustrated by the social injustice that is literally everywhere in front of you, just leave me be. I can’t with you right now. I am over willful ignorance. If you can admit to me that you see it and don’t know what to do, let’s talk. Otherwise, get out of the way and at least just shut-up and let the rest of us try. There is too much at stake right now.
2. If you see the injustice all around you and don’t know where to begin, it’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to ask questions. Just know that it can be exhausting for those you may be asking to try to help you understand. Have patience. And if you are actively trying to do something, thank you.
3. For those who are dealing with the reality of social injustice … I know it’s not easy to speak up. I also know that doing so may not even help. I know it can sometimes even make the entire situation worse. I refuse to tell you what to do. If it feels right to speak up, then please do. Now is definitely the time. Otherwise, just know you are not alone — I know it’s cliche to say that, but this stuff is common enough, it is real and happening … even if you find yourself talking yourself out of how you feel, remember that: your experience is real.

I met you with silence. The only answer I could offer in the moment was that I don’t know; I hadn’t thought about it like that; I’ve never considered that I matter all that much — appreciating my own grand insignificance in this giant universe of matter and hope and billions of muddled actions.

But I want to answer you.

I imagine giving you a timeline of my life with all of these little spheres meant to be colored paint-by-number style. I imagine that each sphere represents every moment, every detail, every memory, every breath in my life and that you only get to color the spheres as I reveal the details to you. I imagine too many of these spheres to reasonably count — thousands, millions. When you ask me who I am … and you really want to know … the few spheres you would be able to color would be barely noticeable. I want you to be intrigued. I want you to want to know more. I want you to become some sort of anthropological explorer of me.

You asked me who I am, how I became me. This is my answer. A pile of memories, a glimpse, a few spheres for you to color.

1982. The year I was born and Portland becomes home. Memories are just hearsay at this point. When my parents brought me home from the hospital, they brought me to a home at the base of Mt. Tabor in Portland. This is when Portland became home. I remember walking within steps of that house as a 20-something year old, not having any idea it was the house I first slept in as a new life. I had such an odd feeling about it, like I had returned somewhere. I mentioned it to my dad the next day and learned it was the same house.

1983. The year I turned 1 and learned to climb. This was the year we moved to ZigZag at the base of Mt. Hood. It was also the year I learned to climb. My dad spent a solid year laying in front of my crib until I fell asleep. If he didn’t, I would climb out of it. I was that kind of child.

1984. The year I turned 2 and felt my first lasting hug. The church my parents attended convinced my dad that my mom should be in a mental institution. I don’t remember her leaving or being gone. I do remember my dad taking us to the store to get her a welcome home gift. I remember the way she hugged us, so much love. She wasn’t / isn’t crazy. She struggles with PTSD from an intensely abusive childhood and debilitating anxiety, a bad combo for anyone.

1985 and 1986. The years I turned 3 and then 4 and experienced profound lessons. I put these together because I have so many memories from this house on Mt. Hood, but I don’t know what happened when. There was lots of playing outside using our imagination. There were some real defining moments. I remember that I got my dress dirty. I showed my mom, anticipating a reprimand. My mom simply looked at me and told me it was fine, that she had a washing machine and to keep playing. To this day, clothes are just clothes and things are just things and they are never more important than the people around me and the experiences we might share, dirt and all. I also remember that I picked a trillium. I proudly presented it to my dad who very calmly explained to me that I had hurt the plant — trilliums are particularly fragile and picking them usually kills them. And thus began my journey of appreciating all life, human, animal, and plant. It’s incredibly important that I take what I need respectfully, whether it’s from another human, sustenance from the life of an animal or plant, or walking in the midst of a forest with so much life all around me.

1987. The year I turned 5 and we moved. We moved to Canby, a small farming town halfway between Portland and Salem. It was supposed to be temporary. It wasn’t.

1988. The year I turned 6 and met the false pack. My little sister was born and I started first grade. I had a great group of friends the entire year, all girls.

1989. The year I turned 7 and words hurt just as much as sticks and stones. The group of girls who were my friends the year prior decided they no longer liked me. I wasn’t able to go do all the summer things they did because my parents didn’t have that kind of money. They opted to pick on me and make fun of me. And that lasted, often brutally so, until high school ended.

1990. The year I turned 8 and started working my writer’s callus. I started writing. I loved math, but I loved words more. I started writing all sorts of stupid little stories and didn’t stop writing until there were no words left some time in my late 20s. Well, I thought there were no words left.

1991. The year I turned 9 and my heart broke. This is the first time I remember witnessing the extent of my moms panic attacks. It was so hard to watch. My heart broke for her and all I wanted to do was help stop it. It was a hard lesson to learn that you can’t always stop the pain someone else is feeling.

1992. The year I turned 10 and my mom broke. My mom stopped leaving the house. Save for three emergency medical trips and two really hard moves, my mom hasn’t left her house since. Not for graduations, not when I was hospitalized. It’s too painful for her and I’ve accepted that as her truth and have learned how to navigate it despite most of society not understanding. This is also the year I learned just how bad her childhood was.

1993. The year I turned 11 and I experienced objectification for the first time. I became aware of my body. This was the first year that a boy slapped my ass, and I liked it. I didn’t know how to make sense of liking being objectified until recently. I’m an awful feminist, some would say.

1994. The year I turned 12 and I got sick; very sick. Starting this year and the next two years, I would go the doctor almost weekly. I was really sick and they didn’t know why. As time went on, I lost a lot of my friends. They didn’t know how to handle being friends with a sick kid.

1995. The year I turned 13 and destroyed my journal. I felt so alone. I was angsty and my mom was worried. She read my journal. I hated that she read my journal so I destroyed it and have never kept one since. I used to write poetry (think Kerouac or Bukowski) and my mom thinks I’m sarcastic when I tell her I owe that to her. But it’s true. I traded in journaling for poetry, which feels like just as much of a release, but with the privacy of my own encryption layers.

1996. The year I turned 14 and started to hate my body. After two years of going to the doctor almost weekly, I was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease. The more I learned about the disease, the more I hated my body. I hated that I was limited by this invisible force. I was put on all sorts of medication and couldn’t drink alcohol as a result. I went through my teens and 20s and almost half of my 30s completely sober. Every good decision and every bad … sober.

1997. The year I turned 15 and got my first job. I started bagging groceries in a grocery store. I had just learned how poor my parents really were and immediately started helping them financially (and have never stopped). I would work at the store to put myself through undergraduate and graduate school, and every Saturday after I got my first corporate job to pay off student loans … for a total of 13 years. I would also come to love the micro connections, the bursts of getting to know someone during the two minutes I was serving them.

1998. The year I turned 16 and I met Destination. I bought my first car, a 1974 VW bug. I rebuilt it with my dad. I named her Destination, because I had dreams of going everywhere with her. I could feel the pull for independence and I started to learn to trust my own perspective. While scrubbing grease from some nuts and bolts while working on the engine rebuild, I felt meditative and reflected on what my friend went through who had recently had an abortion. I admired her strength and felt unsure I could be so strong. I made the decree that I wouldn’t sleep with anyone I couldn’t imagine being a good father.

1999. The year I turned 17 and chose my family. I was offered a job writing for Transworld Skateboarding. It would have broken my mom, me taking off. It’s all I wanted to do, but it didn’t feel right that taking something I wanted would have to hurt someone I love. I chose my family and turned the job down. I didn’t resent having to make the choice since it also allowed me to really consider my plan to get my masters at the local university and teach literature at the collegiate level. Choosing my family allowed me to solidify my resolve for my original plan.

2000. The year I turned 18 and could have chosen death. It was my first year of college. I love to learn, I always have. I couldn’t get enough and it didn’t seem that bad working full time while going to school. In my last term, I got really sick from the Crohn’s Disease and spent six months having four surgeries, two of them unnecessary and due to the surgeon’s ego. I learned it was okay to tell a doctor to fuck off and that no one was perfect — not even doctors. I was emaciated after the third surgery and knew if I closed my eyes that was it. I actively chose to keep them open and chose to live.

2001. The year I turned 19 and was cheated on the first time. He was my first boyfriend, my first kiss, but not someone I could imagine being a father, so I didn’t sleep with him. He eventually opted to cheat on me and I broke up with him on the spot. I knew that I couldn’t trust him again and I didn’t want to deal with the drama of trying. I also found myself confused and not being upset with him for wanting to be with someone else, but for not talking with me about it, for not including me in a decision that would impact both of us.

2002. The year I turned 20 and discovered LiveJournal. A poet boy from the Bronx bought a one way ticket to be with me. We met on LiveJournal. It didn’t work out, but I still have every letter we exchanged and we had a lot of fun. I often think about him with incredible fondness and wish him deep joy and feelings of peace. He is arguably one of the people most responsible for what I ended up learning in my 20s.

2003. The year I turned 21 and started hosting poetry readings. I was walking around one afternoon and my attention was captured by an open gallery door. This is how I met a group of artists and skateboarders who were running an art gallery. They let me into their fold and the world became bigger. I still do not have words to explain who important art is, but it is so important — I feel this so deeply. Eventually, I would start hosting poetry readings since my most comfortable medium is words. I loved hosting them in the gallery, with no proper seating and a mix of people sitting on the floor and the stairs that led to the loft, all of us sharing these secret parts of ourselves.

2004. The year I turned 22 and appreciated my privilege on a new level. I had been dating someone who was in the United States from Mexico illegally and after 8 years of being in the United States, he wanted to go see his mom. I met him years prior when I first started working at the grocery store. We became close after I taught myself Spanish because I felt like the least I could do was make a comfortable few moments when I helped those who didn’t speak English when I was working. We fell in love when I did a lot of farm worker advocacy work. One day, he told me he wanted to go home. We learned after he arrived in Guadalajara, that it no longer felt like home. His time in the United States created a void, a feeling of diaspora. He couldn’t connect the same way with those who had never left and living in the shadows in the United States came with its own loneliness. I bought hundreds of phone cards so we could talk on the phone, my heart breaking for what he was experiencing. He got caught trying to come back and that was that. I tried to help get him released from the detention center and then came the day he was no longer there. No one knew where he went next. I still hope I will somehow learn what happened next and hope he has found a sense of home again.

2005. The year I turned 23 and accepted I have an old soul. In high school, I talked more with teachers than students. It was the same in college. Many of my closest friends during college were also my professors. The great thing about Portland State is that the professors there could teach anywhere, but want to be in Portland. I felt at home with them. Conversations were easy and not steeped in an uncomfortable intellectual bubble. They had experienced things and we could talk about what was happening in the world with genuine awareness on a human level. I had finally found a sense of tribe that I never felt as a child.

2006. The year I turned 24 lost my virginity, my relationship, and my dream. His name was Walter and we were engaged. He was here illegally from Guatemala and a month before our would be wedding, he confessed he had since fallen in love with me, but initially just wanted a green card. I broke it off and was probably way harsher on him that I needed to be. But I felt used and didn’t like that. He was the first partner I had who I could imagine being a father and therefore the first person with whom I had sex. The sex wasn’t good, so at least there was that. A few weeks later, I learned I wouldn’t be able to realize my dream of teaching literature at the collegiate level. My only shot would be a term-to-term adjunct position without health benefits. And in those days, one day without medical coverage would mean Crohn’s Disease would never be covered again. Every part of my life was disrupted and I felt lost, uncertain, scared, and then, profoundly determined. I knew I would meet someone else; I just needed to figure out what was driving me to want to teach and then I might find my next step.

2007. The year I turned 25 and entered the corporate world. I thought long and hard about why I wanted to teach and realized it was all about having an impact. So while I was still working on my masters (working 40 hours a week at the grocery store, academic advising for 20 hours, teaching a course, and taking full credits), I started looking for a job that would let me have an impact. I ended up at an environmental consulting company doing data entry. I was an alien in a world not meant for me. No one in my support network had been to this strange land before. I had no idea what I was doing and no one to help me make sense of everything that came next.

2008. The year I turned 26 and was promoted. I ended up being promoted at that company six times and eventually was director level, responsible to seven managers reporting to me and a larger team of 40. I had no idea what I was doing as a leader, but I took it seriously and am amazed and humbled that every member of that team still talks to me.

2009. The year I turned 27 and I started losing myself. As a result my own actions and those of my older sister, my parents effectively disowned me for nearly two years. It hurt. Some days I thought we would work it out and other days I had no idea how that would happen (eventually, we worked it out and are stronger for it). I threw myself into my work and created all sorts of bad habits. I also threw myself into my relationship with a man who cheated on me at least 13 times over the six years we were together. I never actually cared that he was with someone else. I hated that he lied about it and I hated how he would tell me to just make himself feel better. He was generally unsupportive of my career success, for reasons I understand, but it made it harder for me to see my own progress.

2010. The year I turned 28 and lost myself even more. I was wildly successful at work, my parents were talking to me again, but I was so unhappy. I don’t even think I fully understand how unhappy I was until years later. I was stuck. I was lost. I had lost almost all of myself.

2011. The year I turned 29 and started to think with more mindfulness. One of my dear friends at work told me that her partner didn’t like it when she was with me because she was more negative and gossiped. It opened my eyes to how my own misery was impacting others. It took drastic change a couple of years later to help me become the person I wanted to be, but I spent the time between working on my self-awareness and considering with a lot more deliberation and mindfulness how I wanted to be in the world.

2012. The year I turned 30 and I started to build a path out. I started to realize I didn’t respect myself. I maybe even hated a lot about myself. I projected confidence, but it wasn’t true confidence. It wasn’t fake either, it just lacked depth and a steadfastness. I was worn down by the company and relationship that had overlapped and entwined my life for the last six years. I was worn down to the point of blatant neglect. I decided I needed to move on from all of it. I started looking for a new job and the strength to end my relationship.

2013. The year I turned 31 and went on over 100 first dates. I landed in the tech world looking for companies that gave a damn about people. I left my post in leadership to be a project manager. I had a new job and I was single for the first time in over a decade. I had never really dated before and I had only had sex with two people. I had 0 self confidence. I threw myself into all of it. I went on over 100 first dates, some resulting in amazing nights, amazing flings, or amazing friendships, and others not. I had some truly incredible experiences, lots of sex, and learned to love and appreciate myself more than ever before. I kept a spreadsheet documenting my experiences to try and learn as much as I could. By the end of it, I was bored with dating and at work, I missed being in a leadership position.

2014. The year I turned 32 and returned to leadership. While it was slightly flawed for me to think that in order to switch industries, I needed to take steps backward in my career, I am glad that I did. Doing so allowed me to realize not just how much I loved the honor to coach a team, but why I loved it. I transitioned into technical support leadership, reporting to one of the best managers I’ve ever had. I felt like I knew how to be a good leader and started to come into my own.

2015. The year I turned 33 and accepted that I don’t believe in monogamy. The year of 100 dates ended with a great partner who helped me understand more clearly why I didn’t believe in monogamy, why it never bothered me that my past partners cheated on me. I was okay with my partner being entirely themselves without me trying to possess them, or them possess me. I wasn’t after anyone owning anyone else. I just wanted communication, respect, and love, so that we could continue to trust one another and build something lasting and beautiful together. It didn’t work out with us as romantic partners, but we remain good friends with a tremendous amount of love for each other.

2016. The year I turned 34 and I nearly broke. I’ve been through a lot. Almost dying, accepting the diagnosis of a chronic, life-threatening illness, the usual battering of heartbreak, bad bosses, really bad bosses; the usual and then some — enough to make me honestly wonder what it would take to break me. Life has given me many opportunities to break, and like some ridiculous trope, in 2016, I almost did. I had a new partner who I suspect will be in my life for a very long time. Nonwork life was amazing. Work life was awful, which really meant life was pretty crappy. After a year in the most toxic work environment I’ve experienced, the gaslighting had worked. I finally saw the edge of the cliff and was so close to broke, my toes could curl over the edge. That pile of “just don’t be you” fell on top of me. I believed them. I texted my partner that maybe I needed to change who I am. My partner, some amazing colleagues and friends, lessons in self compassion, and the courage to change jobs helped me identify what was really going on and not allow myself to stop believing in myself, to lose myself. It was the act of changing jobs, that I realized that leaving a bad situation was just the beginning. The harder part came next: healing.

2017. The year I turned 35 and worked on healing myself. There were so many moments when I thought I was over what had happened in 2016 — beyond it. Then, something would happen and I would be right back there, questioning my very being. Here’s the thing about healing … usually it’s paired with growth and depending on the wound, it’s amazing what can help or slow it down. Halfway through my healing journey, my younger sister suggested I listen to the Hamilton soundtrack. Listening to it over and over, hearing the story about a loudmouth man not scared of sharing his opinions, his conviction — I wept. The interplay between Hamilton and Burr became an allegory for my fight to hang onto myself. Every time I felt that twinge of doubt about being me, I would ask myself, “If I stand for nothing, what will I fall for?” Little by little, line by line, song by song, I felt confidence return. I’d rather be a Hamilton than a Burr. Sometimes, I would feel silly for relying on the soundtrack to a musical to keep the path of healing open and doable. But again, here’s the thing about healing … usually it’s paired with growth and depending on the wound, it’s amazing what can help or slow it down. I found something that helped and once I did, I could see the growth that was happening. Being a loudmouth person not scared of sharing her opinions, her convictions, has certain traps. It has certain consequences that don’t always match my intentions. I grew to have more balance. I learned that I can speak with confidence (I can’t help it), but I can remind those I am talking with that I don’t actually think I know everything. I also grew to stop feeling the need to be sorry for who I am. It’s like feelings. I can’t control what I feel, but I can control what comes next. Applying that to my state of being has helped me become more of who I believe I can be.

2018. The year I turned 36 and I was truly me. From day one with my current partner, with whom I paired in 2015, our relationship has been one of ethical non-monogamy. To quote KOTA the Friend’s song “Birdie,”

Tell me what you want, you can have it all

You just say the word

You could take what you deserve, there’s enough to go around, look

You believe in me as much as I believe in you

And you do not belong to me, and I do not belong to you

We free to be and do what we born to be

After three years, I encountered someone. My partner and I had talked through all of the hard stuff, but we hadn’t been tested. I fell in love. It was comfortable and amazing for everyone involved. I was me, truly me, no holding back, and it was all okay.

2019. The year I turned 37 and didn’t back down. There is no other way to describe why I chose to move on from two companies over the span of just six months … I am done working for white men who are not woke. The first company I left will always have a special place in my heart. I came into my own professionally and there was a lot of good. It started to change the last year at the hands of a white man who is very old school, who is not woke at all. I accepted there was nothing I could do to change it and I left. I had no idea that a few months later, I would be tested by another white man cut from the same cloth. I had the choice of staying quiet or standing up for myself. I chose the latter and again accepted that the solution wasn’t change within the company, but for me to move on. I have spent the last nearly four decades coming into me and learning who I am and what I am capable of. To back down would have been a compromise of all of my values, of all that is me. The year is not done yet, but the last few weeks have been difficult and amazing. To quote Naomi Shihab Nye, “It’s late but everything comes next.” I believe this is going to be a truly good year, the start of a part of my life where I am entirely comfortable in my own skin and lucky to have the people in my life I need, who will help me grow even more.

You asked me who I am, how I became me. This is my answer. A pile of memories, a glimpse, a few spheres for you to color.