The Work Will Go On. #JustLikeTheShow

*queues up theme music to Titanic*

Some time ago, I left a position. This clearly isn’t news because people leave jobs all the time for all manner of reasons, right? I am thinking of this one in particular because of the thought that came to me when I got this message from a former colleague:

          Girl, do you know we still haven’t filled your position!

The thought you ask?

          I know. [..and also, because I’m petty, HHAAAA!!! That’s what yall get!]

I mean, c’mon. If you can’t check me [boo], you damn sure can’t replace me [love]. Like, there are so many mathematical models that prove this equivalency.

And I went on with life taking that for face value. I mean, I knew that the work was being done. How many times had I been in meetings in which the other duties as assigned bullet point on my position description was highlighted and my exempt status duly noted? Too many. The organization [most times me] figured out how to get the work done in the wake of a vacancy near my place on the organizational chart.

I never held that in my consciousness, though. All I could think about was my not being there. Who is managing the day to day administrative tasks? What about all of the relationships I facilitated (and fixed) with industry partners and collaborators? The weekly, monthly, annual traditions - will someone remember them? And the shortcuts in the database?! I discovered quirks, developed work-arounds, and trained staff. Sure, the operation of these tasks are industry standards and knowledge, but I made them work in a way that well, only I can make work, (right?). When I leave, how will they work? (my life is littered with questions; i literally question everything)

The truth? The how doesn’t matter. The point is, they implement their best ‘make it work’ moment when they can’t just make it work EVERY *clap* SINGLE *clap* TIME *clap* someone leaves. There is never a time where the job doesn’t get done, even if the done-ness is not doing the job because magically that was okay considering the circumstances. It gets figured out without you. When you move on, however it is you decide to depart, they move on from you too [boo].

Foolishly, I believed that somehow MY doing it mattered. It mattered to me. It mattered to the people/projects/processes I served. It mattered to the organization. All of those are true. They are true AND they are time defined. Once I left the organization, the idea that MY doing it was going to impact the organization’s ability to get it done did not matter at all. The individuals I served maybe preferred my services to another, but they still need the services so whoever is doing it (or not) matters. And now that I am gone, why in the world does it matter to me? It’s in the past, right?

Well, our wise friend Rafiki would point out that the past still hurts. That’s probably why whatever it is you’re feeling about whatever it was is totes a thing. We have a choice to run from it (to that next position) or learn from it (in that new opportunity).

What did I learn?

photo taken from: podcast.elyserobinson.com

Let it go. *queues up Toni Braxton then Frozen because Disney movies are far better baby-sitters than me* We often think that letting go is the writing of that resignation letter; the move across country; the leap of faith; or the first day in that new role. Those are part of letting go, but if you’ve ever had a bad break up, then you know that the day you agree (or disagree) to end it isn’t always the day you let go. Letting go for me was accepting that I am an amazing professional with an exemplary work ethic who goes above and beyond to get the job done exceptionally well AND the organization will absolutely replace me the day I leave BOTH coexist harmoniously in a place where I am valuable and they are not (always) villains. Everyone did what they had to do. That’s life. There is no need to pass judgment on each other for doing as our nature demands.

Get rid of the guilt. Even when our leaving is because the position isn’t fulfilling, in whatever ways we need to be filled full, there is a lingering guilt - especially in helping and people facing professions. Humans naturally build relationships and deep connections with colleagues and constituents. Intersect that with the amount of time the (above) average person spends at work, and you are leaving behind a huge part of your life, not just a job. They’re staying. You’re choosing to leave. And you know once you do, everything about their experience staying will somehow be a little less because you are leaving. People with heartbeats feel ‘some kind of way’ about this. To whatever degree this is felt, you carry a little guilt with you to that next experience. For me, getting rid of the guilt was acknowledging it was THE thing nagging at me and not my reasons for leaving.

What you leave behind often finds you where you go (if you let it). I get that I’m not like most people. I make friends with strangers - literally. Since I was a little girl; it’s how I got lost all the time. Seriously (I get lost y'all). I’m never afraid to say hello or introduce myself (unless it’s related to someone super handsome, then I’m totes awkward, but I digress). I have moved across the country, with stops in almost all the regions to start my so called life all over again. Within a few months everyone knows me because I’m Southern and Baptist, so I introduce myself to everyone when I walk into rooms. Even with that, I get so anxious that I won’t have the people, the friends, the connections, the hook-ups, the happy hours - I won’t have the life I had before and I loved that before life. In a year’s time, people who’ve lived in the area their whole lives have learned something new/exciting about their hometown from something I accidentally discovered. I know what you are leaving behind is wonderful. Just know that there is wonder where you’re going too. Now get there and fill it until it’s full (and overflowing).

Some time ago, I left a position. This clearly isn’t news because people leave jobs all the time for all manner of reasons, right? I am thinking of this one in particular because my path crossed with someone leaving their position for a life with a less clear path. I said things to them that I didn’t realize I knew. I didn’t realize I believed these things until they came out of my mouth like my sport babblings.

There’s more to say. So much things to say. But I will have to continue it later.

I have some wonder of my own to fill so it can get full (with some overflow).

Naturally Selecting Blogs

I have never embraced change. At least change that I didn’t ask for. The only change I welcome without protest is the kind that jingles (or folds) #ComingToAmerica. And, because I live on both sides of every spectrum, though I hate change – I’ll roll with it. I will just be very honest with you about my feelings for said change – while doing it. Because comprehension (or agreement) is not a requisite for completion. This is a consequence of being hella coachable.

photo: Elite Property Research, LLC

What’s the change I’m having trouble with? This. This here blog production. It was started for one purpose, and purpose one alone – running. Only, it’s been about more than running. I did it as a lost bet (kinda) to Alica Keykey or something like that, because I wrote a letter to the Competitor Group that she felt like everyone should read. So I’ve been regaling you these tales from the pavement. I sometimes told you about other things – but it’s been like 90% running, 10% the tangents I’ve so called my life. Then it got to like 80%/20% which you know is a heated debate for the culture, so I began to feel some kind of way. When I got to the C grade, I was like whoa – this is levels of underachieving I’ve never known.

Then I had to think about my feelings. And yall know how I feel about those. Feelings and telling the innanets all ya’business – ‘cause I hate that. I know so many life stories from FB, IG, and tweets that I never wanted to (know/) be that person. It just so happens I have been that person – but it’s on this here blog thing, so you like have to click on it to see it, so it’s kind of exactly the same but not really. Stop judging me.

Anyway, this is going to be about running, and running a bunch of other things. I needed running really bad a few years ago. A few of those boxes of darkness I received had me believing something like #14in2014 would be impossible. And I still need it – just not like I need other things. Because humans change, and need an assortment of stuff, and even when it’s hard – we naturally select. So you evolve whether you want to or avoid it.

After all, it’s not like change is always a bad thing. If you can believe it, there was a time when I *brace yourself* hated wine. Remember that trip to Napa, Pops & MO.m? Yall, all the wine was wasted on a twenty-something who thought she knew everything. Not only was it wasted, I had the nerve to be slightly hung-over after it.

Okay, change is a good thing. I have successfully convinced myself. Today. As I write this. Right now.

I won’t agree with this tomorrow, so bookmark your receipt. 

The Cape Doesn't Fit Yet

The last time I was up like this, I was writing to you all about my friend who had to say goodbye to his father. It turned out, I was managing the feelings I had about that, through the time my daddie said goodbye to me. It wasn’t a forever goodbye. It was, you’re in college now, and daddie can’t do this part with you goodbye. Different goodbyes, yet his father and my daddie were saying the same thing. We can’t do this part with you.

I’m up late right now thinking about another man and his father. This is a pretty special man to me. I can’t tell you all about him though, not for a lack of time or words – it’s just not the time yet, and those aren’t the words I have. I have been thinking about him and his father for a while now. But I know, while it’s genuine, it’s also a projection.

He and I just happen to be in the same place in our lives. Where something happens and your father, your pops, your dear old dad, and he has to become something else. And after they worked so hard their whole lives to give you all those wonderful experiences growing up, send you off to the best schools, and work day in and out paying for what all of that costs, you don’t have enough education or sense to figure out how to get through this.

His father needs him, more than he needs his father. It’s the not so fun side to raising your parents that we never status update about on social media. You know, the time when they like legit NEED you. Like, if you don’t figure out a way to come through for them, some bad stuff might really happen. And you might not be equipped for this, but you definitely ain’t prepared for the bad stuff that might happen. So you figure it out. And that wears you out. #ThisWomanIsGettingWeary #PretendingImMadeOfStone #projecting

You are oscillating back and forth between gratitude and grief. He’s thankful that his father is still here. I am certain of that. But the grief of this changing relationship, Lord? Having to be there in this new capacity? But it’s not new at all because it’s what his father has been doing for him his whole life. Growing up though, you never think the tables are going to be turned. You assume that your parents are always going to have this power, this authority, this control. They are always going to be able to veto that holiday plan you have, because ain’t nobody going to no damn Las Vegas Bowl the day after Christmas? Is you crazy? You can Las Vegas Bowl your butt on that couch! Child went off to school and came back crazy as I don’t know what!

#MyMotherDoesntBelieveInMe #DreamKiller #PopsIsATraitor #PopsDidntEvenHelpMeOutWithThatOne  

Grateful that you have the means to be able to do this. To fix the world up for them - even though it looks different every time you "fix" it. Grief because remaining patient and humble through that process takes an expert level of Jesus and you haven’t been to church in a few Sundays so… #Level:BasicJesus. And something tells me, even if you were on the front pew taking notes, it would still be a bit challenging. Like you actually need Jesus to be there with you through this kind of patience and humility – next to you, zapping you with patience and humble blessings as you care for your father. Because, #YouBasic.

And who, like WHO can you actually say this to and not sound like a jerk? I mean, I started this off with, my friend who had to say goodbye to his father – I mean, talk about your first world problems, right? For all the people who wish they had a father still here to worry over, there’s an equal opposite amount of those who wish they had the means to do what you’re doing right now. And you’re over there worrying over a mug of pomegranate tea sweetened with organic honey. Complain much?

You say nothing. It’s easier that way. You suck it up, and do it in silence. My friend isn’t looking for a handshake, hug, or help even. He is just trying to find his way. Just like I was some time ago. #StillLookingForThePath #TakeUsToTheKing

So I told him about it. In the black church, they call that a testimony. It was over a text message though. I told him what was actually happening to me all those times he was sitting right next to me. In the car. In the bar. At the tailgate. On the way to the game. All that time, he had no idea. I knew exactly what he was feeling, although a different father, it was the same emotion. More like emotions. It’s all of them bruh. Any given moment, you can be feeling anything on the inside, but that outside is like a rock. We become the rocks, like Tristan, that our fathers beat themselves (read: their pride) against. Unshaken. Steadfast. Unmovable. Strong  (read: humble-ish) enough to endure. Everlasting. Because we must. We have inherited this task.

You can’t give that kind of grief away. Save that for yourself. Gratitude is good. Use that for Dad.

His father is changing. His father is doing the most courageous thing a father can do for his son. He’s not being his son’s superhero anymore. He’s not moving the mountains, capturing criminals, or saving any more days. He is stepping down, so his son can learn to use his super powers.

My friend is going to have to figure this part out all on his own. Something like his father did the instant he knew he was passing his genetic material on to create the remarkable man I know today. The great man (my friend) who lets me order things we both know I won’t finish, but allows me to be great in that moment of ordering a beer I can’t pronounce because I want to be down. And never says a mumbling word about it. Okay, he says a few, but he lets me be great. Then drinks the rest of the beer. Because we don't waste alcohol. 

Things have to be this way. See, unlike Matthew McConaughey, my friend’s father won’t be able to leapfrog through time. The natural order, probability wise, will likely be preserved in this instance. This is what is left for us. A desperate, restless, search for all the horcruxes father has left you. So you can figure out how to make the cape fit. Lord knows it doesn’t fit yet – not even close. It too long. It's not the color you imagined your cape would be. Whoa - you actually never even imagined you would actually have a cape because you always thought your father would be here. I mean, you understood passing on the the figurative sense, but not in the "It's definitely going to impact my life" kind of way. An overwhelming panic is setting in. It's real. You have to do this. All on your own.

It’s then you realize just how all powerful your father was. And how ill-equipped you are for this task.

I have never doubted what it takes to be a mother. And I never will. But fathers have an incredible task to match.

Passing the cape on.

Knowing that it does not fit yet.

Unsure if they will ever see it fly.

I suppose that’s the real lesson fathers teach us. Faith. Believing in something they may never get to see. Believing in something they might not ever see. The great courage, the immeasurable love, it takes to have that kind of faith.

…and the burden to carry it. Like my friend said, it’s hard on the both of them.

It’s hard on us too homey.