work your happy

When I graduated from Mount Holyoke College in 2000, I didn’t give much thought to what I was leaving. My experiences at MHC weren’t all strawberries and champagne. I applied to transfer my first-year, staying only because my parents let me know that a transfer meant no study abroad in Ireland. After graduation, I moved into a shared house with three other alums. I was ready to start a new life, and thought MHC was part of my past. While transitions are hard, and I cried a lot, it wasn’t like I wanted to stay. 

I wanted to take on the world. 

This weekend, I “watched” my favorite tradition of all time, Laurel Parade, pop up throughout Instagram and Facebook. Laurel Parade is magic: Saturday before graduation, an alumnae parade walks through campus. All returning alums and the current class wear white to honor the suffragist movement. There are accents of red, yellow, green and blue: each class has their own color, sort of like Hogwarts. The graduating class walks last, carrying a laurel chain, and pass through all the other classes before placing the laurel chain around founder Mary Lyon’s grave. This means that when you graduate, you’re pretty much walking through time, passing the classes who gradated 2 years, 5 years, 10 years before you. It’s like you can see your future. And now that my class is the middle, it’s also like I can see my past. 

(There’s a bagpipe player, too, for reasons I don’t really get, but absolutely love.)

I only started to “get” what MHC really gave me at my 10^th reunion. I knew I’d stay in touch with my closest MHC friends, and that we’d show up for each other through celebrations and heartbreak. I didn’t know some of my closest friends would be MHC alums I met after graduation. I didn’t know I’d end up marrying another alum! I couldn’t imagine the Over 40 Facebook group, or that the Harvest sandwich from Tailgate picnic is my #1 comfort food. I’m old enough that I don’t love the “MoHome” moniker, but I do agree that the air feels different on campus and I breathe a little easier each time I’m there.

* * *

There was extra sparkle in the pictures this year. Not only was there finally gorgeous, perfect New England sunshine, the class color for the Class of 2019 is yellow. Everything looked and felt gilded and special. Seeing these strong, inspired and confident women gave me hope after a long and difficult week that saw attack after attack on fundamental women’s rights across the United States.

Seeing these pictures of Laurel Parade reminded me that I want to take on the world and that it’s not too late.

Yesterday, I met a young woman who is starting her MHC journey this fall. She is part of the Class of 2023. She’ll graduate wearing yellow, too. The reach of MHC alum network continues to surprise and humble me. Afterall, joining the MHC alum community starts when you pick up that Laurel Chain and carry it with your friends. 

You just don’t realize you never put it down.

See you next year, Class of 2000. 💙 🦁

National Infertility Awareness Week is April 21 – 27, 2019. 
This essay includes personal experience with infertility and pregnancy loss. 

One of the ways I work a little happier is by finding opportunities to get involved at the office outside of my day job. My company recently launched an employee resource group for caregivers: parents, children of aging parents, really anyone caring for someone else. As part of that launch, I wrote a post about my own experience becoming a parent. 

This year, my spring cleaning started with letting go of no-longer-needed IVF supplies. My son turned three in February. He is proof of better living through science: IVF can work.

When my wife and I made the decision to grow our family, we knew we were deliberately choosing a bigger life. The calculation seemed simple: Us plus a baby would equal one awesome family.

Getting to motherhood meant awkward conversations at work. My work is a Career with a capital “C”. Infertility treatments required appointments which took me away from the office, often without much notice. I was lucky to have a close and trusted relationship with my manager. My manager and I agreed that if she noticed changes the impact I was having at the office, we’d regroup and troubleshoot together.

Getting to motherhood also meant one day I had to leave work because I just couldn’t hold it together after learning my positive pregnancy test was a chemical pregnancy. My body let me down over and over, and through all of it I was still coming to the office and doing my work. Those early awkward conversations meant I didn’t need to share with manager what was happening daily, just “I’ll need to be out Thursday, I’ve managed my schedule appropriately.” Setting that expectation at the start of the process meant that on the one day I couldn’t get it together to be in the office, I just needed to send an email. Work expectations were clear, too – I pushed off a critical appointment because I was facilitating a training session that couldn’t be rescheduled.

I found out on my birthday, while traveling for work, that I was pregnant. Suddenly, it seemed like the whole process hadn’t been that big of a deal.

***

When my son was 18 months old, my wife and I decided to choose a bigger life again. We hoped for siblings; a newborn to benefit from all our new-found parenting “expertise”.

On to more semi-awkward conversation with my manager. I juggled doctor’s appointments with conference calls, bloodwork with deadlines. I learned what to do so I could ship refrigerated injections and still take a family vacation.

Then we found out that I’d need surgery to repair scar tissue to move forward. We had to decide what a bigger life looked like, now with my son’s needs and experience added to the equation. We decided that this time, our bigger life didn’t include lab visits, appointments and surgery. A new equation: IVF plus work plus a toddler made this second attempt much more difficult. I was tired, unhappy and missing out on the toddlerhood of the child we had.

Cleaning out those syringes last month was proof that science doesn’t always come through: IVF can fail.

It’s easy to talk about my son, the success half of our story. Now I’m starting to share failure half of our journey, the half with a bag of medical supplies no longer needed because there won’t be another child. Feeling like a failure and being a happy wife, loving mom, good friend, and successful employee wasn’t working.

In my day job in Human Resources, we talk about authentic leadership. I define authenticity as embracing the paradox and tension that’s present when we’re open about all the facets of who we are. I was having a great year professionally, but personally I was navigating repeated disappointments. We say “bring your whole self to work.” But I didn’t want to bring all of this to work with me. Being at work was a way to focus on something else, to not have to think about timing injections and toddler sleep schedules. If you work with me and didn’t know this was happening…well, that was my goal. Coming to the office was a break and escape.

My coworkers hear about my parenting adventures often – maybe more than they want to! Saying “We didn’t sleep well” gets nods and empathy. After all, I have a son, the part of my journey you can see. You’ll never realize how much we talk about kids in the office until you want and don’t have a baby. I remind myself that everyone has invisible experiences they bring into the office. Personally, I try to ask about what someone’s already shared with me, like vacation plans or a book recommendation. If I’m in a meeting where one or two people don’t have kids, I’ll try to make sure the kid talk doesn’t take over. The key is try – I can think of times even in the last month when I’ve put my foot in my mouth not knowing someone’s story. Rather than making a huge deal of it in the moment, these missteps help me recommit to getting better at recognizing my own assumptions.

If someone does share that they are trying to have a baby, I recommend asking how they want you to check in. For me, no news was bad news, and I didn’t want to answer unexpected questions while waiting in the cafeteria line. I did appreciate “I’m thinking about you notes”, though.

Ask. There’s no other way to know what will work for someone.

If any of this feels like your story, too, I know it’s hard to decide to keep going and hope for the best. I know it’s hard to give up and try to move on. I know it’s possible to grieve for someone you never knew. I know my decisions might not be the same as yours. More than anything, I know that the hard work of choosing our own bigger life is worthwhile.

Using up paid time off is one of my “soapbox” issues. The first time I wrote a non-traditional out-of-office message, I wrote that I was working to reach my goal of being in the 1/3rd of Americans using up all their vacation time. Putting that in writing felt risky – even if it was honest.

When I find out that someone – a friend, coworker, family member, stranger on the street – is leaving their time on the table, I can launch into a lecture faster than the weather changes in New England. It’s a benefit! You’re leaving money on the table!

Then I got sick last week. Flu plus strep meant I could barely get my own hot tea, much do anything else. Using PTO wasn’t a choice, it was a safety net I am privileged to be able to use. And yet, I still felt guilty. I’ve done the mental math to see how or if I’ll need to adjust future time-off plans to keep some days in the bank for when my son gets sick this year. Did I take a day away from him? Can I afford one more day to recover?

Did you know 52% of Americans don’t use all their vacation time?

https://projecttimeoff.com/reports/state-of-american-vacation-2018/

A close friend in high school – in the 90s – had a mom who let her take mental health days. I thought she just had a cool mom, and now I realize she had a mom ahead of the times.

With all the talk of unplugging and self-care, the ability to have or to use paid time off is missing from the discussion. Using all your paid time off is self-care. It benefits you and your company. They aren’t giving it to you out of the goodness of their hearts – PTO was fought and won by workers who didn’t have it. Just like weekends, if we’re honest. It’s easy to take it for granted when we didn’t have to ask for it.

You’re more likely to use your PTO if you plan ahead.

Here are ways I want to help others justify using all their PTO this year:

For the workaholic friend who can’t disconnect even when he’s supposedly away on vacation, I point out that taking breaks to recharge make you a better employee. You’re more creative, have new perspectives on old problems and are setting an example for others in your organization. Otherwise known as being a stronger leader.

For the family member who thinks being home and “doing nothing” is a waste of time, I point out that daydreaming lets your brain recover from constant problem solving. Reading fiction is more likely to help you expand your horizons and empathize with others. Learning a new skill impacts your brain chemistry in ways that make you happier.

For the coworker who comes in with a cold, thinking that showing up shows dedication and commitment…well, I stay away from them. No one wants someone else’s germs in the office. But resting and taking a sick day often means you’re sick for a shorter amount of time.

I’ve been all these people. I’m sure I’ll be them again.

I’ll also always try to get to PTO = 0.

As a firm believer in the power of the pen, I encourage anyone and everyone to:

Write it down on real paper with a real pencil. And watch shit get real. ~Erykah Badu

When a friend recently asked me if she could “talk to me about my planner”, I was geeked up. I could – and do! – preach about my Passion Planner often. I’ve had one for each of the last five years. Each is part journal, part scrapbook and part life designer. I’ve gotten my system and “style” down, although it took a little practice. I have favorite pens, stickers and planning rituals. I thought we were going to talk about erasable highlighters, and instead our discussion took a more interesting turn:

What if you don’t have traditionally ‘ambitious’ goals? 

That question pulled together threads of several conversation I’ve had this month, each coming at the idea that moving with intention rather than ambition is just as worthy of effort and attention:

1. When is it acceptable to like who you are and not want to transform yourself?
2. Does having one day a week in pajamas mean you’re lazy or practicing self-care?
3. How will you know if you’ve become a kinder person at the end the year?
   

After all, it is January, the month of full gyms and endless commercials about how to create the new and improved you. #goalgetter and #goaldigger are all over social media. And yet… goals that are typically broadcast with those tags are achievement-oriented. Running a marathon. Getting a promotion. Publishing a book. Traveling to Iceland.

Coming off 2018, exhaustion and the need to slow down is in the air. One of my 2019 goals – not tied to professional wins or external accolades, is to read Tarot. It was fortuitous when I learned that the 2019 card of the year is the Hanged Man. (2+0+1+9 = 12 | The Hanged Man is the 12th card of the Major Arcana). If you’re wondering, the 2018 card was Justice. Let’s just let that sit for a bit, no?

This card asks that we pause, take a break, look for a new perspective. To look for the flow over the hustle. To work with intention as much as ambition.

I’m much more protective of getting enough sleep this year, and not breaking appointments with myself and family to do nothing. That’s right – one of my goals for this year is to do nothing more often. Oh, and take more naps. Celebrating and elevating the mundane is powerful, and a reminder that everything we do is a choice. As long as your goals are your own, they are worthy of pursing.

If anyone knows what hashtag is the opposite of #goalgetter, let me know?

Contemplating my word of the year is the only bit of planning for new year I do before Christmas. Full-blown reflection, intention-setting and list-making must wait until December 26th (the true beginning of the 12 Days of Christmas)! This is my way of trying to stay in the moment during the Christmas season and avoiding the post-Christmas crash by giving myself something to anticipate.

Persist was my word for 2018.

Inspired by Elizabeth Warren, my new-found commitment to political engagement and the fearless girl, I chose persist as a reminder that I would stand up for what I know is right and good, and commit myself to doing the hard work necessary to make the world better. The political is personal, for all of us, whether we’re “in to politics” or not. Persist reminded me that no matter what the year would bring – and 2018 certainly brought new lows in our country’s history – giving up or giving in would not be an option. After all,  it’s not an accident that the Oxford-English dictionary chose “toxic” as the 2018 word of the year. Merriam-Webster chose “justice” for a more optimistic approach.

My 2017 word was “activist”, inspired by my participation in the Women’s March on Washington, DC. Persist was my reminder that my activism is a privilege, and regardless of administration or current affairs, I wanted to commit myself to staying engaged. I was lucky enough to be selected to volunteer for the Americans of Conscience Checklist’s social media team, and am inspired by the small team of compassionate, thoughtful individuals across the country who see an opportunity to bring people closer together rather than continuing to further the division America is experiencing.

Here’s what I learned about what it takes to persist: It’s hard. It’s a grind. Grind could have been my 2018 word. To persist means that you continue forward in a direction in spite of obstacles, opposition or failure. You’re working against something, and no matter how aspirational, motivated or committed I am, to persist turned out to be exhausting.

As I reflect on my year, I find myself wondering if I invited in more obstacles and challenges in to my life? I did persist this year. Maybe not with the compassion, patience, or calm I would have liked, but I’m still here. And so, I want 2019 to feel lighter, to have more flow and less tension.

I haven’t decided on my word for 2019, yet I find myself being much more deliberate about what I might unintentionally focus on going forward.

If you choose a word to focus your intention for the new year,
how do you decide which word?