Do you often tell yourself you’ll “figure out” the important stuff as soon as you have time?
Every night as you go to bed, you think about how you want to change your career, or improve a relationship, or start a project.
You may even get feverishly excited with ideas—and then those ideas have to wait until tomorrow.
Or next week.
Or next year.
Or whenever you have time.
Because after all, you have A Lot To Do.
You don’t have All The Money In The World.
You only have So Much Energy.
So naturally, the steps you need to take to get on purpose and on your path get shuffled to the bottom of the to-do list.
Lots of people make New Year’s Resolutions, but most people don’t take the time to reflect on the year that has passed.
As a new year begins, we’re often in such a hurry to “fix” ourselves and our lives that we don’t stop to take stock of the year that’s ending.
Often, we just make last year’s resolutions over again, and end up a year later in the same situation with the same goals and the same frustrations.
When you hurry ahead into a new year without looking back, you’re likely to miss out on reaping the benefits of the previous year.
Here’s a tool that will help you harvest the learning and “gold” from the year that’s drawing to a close.
Happy New Year!
As we launch into another holiday season*, I’m thinking of you.
Panicking that your career is not where you want it to be.
Panicking that your relationships, or lack of relationships, will never change.
You may even feel guilt on top of the panic: after all, you are so blessed, and you are supposed to be grateful.
Do you have the feeling that you could be accomplishing soooo much more than you are?
I had a day like that recently.
I did some important things—had an awesome foundation session with a new client, Skyped with my mom (we are determined not to fall out of touch!), and completed some writing…but I still felt a little underwhelmed with my productivity.
Looking back on the day, I knew that some potential had slipped through my fingers.
So I woke up the next day determined to GSD*.
I used a strategy that I think might help you too.
Last night, a friend and I sat in a bar drinking a beer, watching the Taney Dragons give their all in the Little League World Series with a bunch of other proud Philadelphians (including two dogs!), and catching up.
As we shared the joys, challenges, and amusements of our respective summers, our conversation wandered to what can be described as overload moments—moments when you find yourself in a state of physical, mental, and/or emotional overwhelm or depletion.
Overload moments can emerge when you push yourself really hard for days on end, or when you’re surprised with a sudden emotional punch to the gut. (A communication snafu. A professional disappointment. A loss. A failure to live up to your own standards or values.) They can build gradually or sneak up on you all at once.
From the very beginning, this summer has been a pretty intense walk down Memory Lane here in Carrie-town.
It started in the technically-not-summer-late-spring, when I walked down the street and saw the shades up and a big “FOR RENT” sign near the front window of my first apartment in Philadelphia.
I pressed my nose against the glass and looked at the empty space.
Memories came flooding over me, in a clearer and more visceral way than they had in years. I couldn’t pull myself away.
Vulnerability is a part of life, no matter what. It tends to be significantly heightened if you are pushing yourself to grow, taking risks, and moving through a period of transition.
The good news is, there are strategies that can really help you to manage the vulnerability of change and putting yourself out there.
Learning and practicing these strategies will build your resilience muscles, and help to carry you through the ups and downs of your journey.
Resilience is a practice, not a destination—so be kind to yourself, and know that it’s normal to feel knocked down from time to time. Here are some ways to get back up:
Are you questioning everything?
“I’m feeling all this weirdness lately. I feel apprehensive, depressed, frustrated, insecure, self-critical—all this at a time when trees are blossoming and temperatures are more—well—temperate. Spring is supposed to be a time of rebirth, of hope. Yet I feel worried and at times sad…”