It's now been over five months since I moved to Charlotte; I really can't believe it. For the most part, this journey has been an overwhelmingly positive one - I am learning so many new things in my new job; I am forging strong connections with my colleagues; I am practicing pretty healthy work-life balance (especially compared to this time three years ago, when I was just starting my job in Indiana).
This last part has really been the key for me in this job. I burned out incredibly quickly in my first professional position, giving 100% of myself 100% of the time. The work took its toll, and within a year I was full of anxiety and stress constantly, with few friends and no life outside of work to speak of. Thankfully, I eventually learned my lesson, and my last year at IU was a positive one, with good social relationships and mental separation from my work. My success in FINALLY learning how to leave work at work, combined with my strong friendships, made my last year in Indiana a truly positive one, and as I accepted this job in Charlotte, I vowed to myself to practice good work-life balance.
Now I'm five months in, like I said, and boy oh boy has my resolve on this promise been tested and proven. In starting a new job, it's incredibly tempting to give of yourself fully - to work long hours, to show that you're truly a committed member of the team. I want to hang out with my new coworkers; I want to build relationships with my students; I want to show up at events to show my support of my new institution.
At the same time, I know myself. I know I need some walls up between my personal and professional. I know I need time at home to be me, to recharge and fill my bucket again. And I know I need a strong personal support system at work to add to the atmosphere of the office.
I am so thankful to have found a SOLID group of friends here at my new institution. We gathered in a piecemeal kind of way, but gather we did, and it has been good for my soul to have a reliable group of female friends who challenge me, support me, and generally make my life happier.
This past weekend, 6 of our group made our way up to Asheville for #MountainWeekend, an excursion we had been planning for three months. September and October were busy and stressful, as they always are (for me, almost to the point of being hellish). So since the calendar ticked over to November, I have been eagerly anticipating this weekend getaway.
Between the amazing sisterhood of these women - all of us with different jobs, different family lives, different backgrounds, different beliefs, yet all of us united in friendship and love - and the glory that is Asheville, NC and its surrounding countryside, the weekend was borderline perfection. We hot-tubbed, we ate and drank, we saw waterfalls and forests and lakes and mountains, we gossiped and gave advice, we explored the city. We had a ball, and it was JUST what I needed.
To top that, the weekend before this one, I made my way back to College Station for an Aggie football game with my best girlfriends from undergrad. You want to talk about happiness and joy, and feeling like I'm exactly where I belong? If so, get me to tell you about my weekend back in Texas. I just felt... whole. Complete.
As 2015 is winding toward its conclusion, I'm starting to reflect again on my One Word, "gratitude." There have been a lot of things I've been grateful for this year so far; some I've blogged about, and some have been experienced in the moment. But what I've been learning is that moments of joy are not to be taken for granted.
My heart and soul were SO happy these past two weekends, spending time with my old friends and deepening relationships with new ones. I was in places I love, with people I adore, respect, and trust, and I felt THANKFUL. I was thankful that I had places and people so dear to my heart, and I was thankful for the resources to be able to travel to these places to spend time with these people. I was thankful for being reminded of old memories, and I was thankful for the opportunity to create new ones. I felt thankful that I was living in the moment, and actively recognizing what a blessing my friends are. As the old saying goes, "Make new friends and keep the old; one is silver, and the other gold."
My friends are precious, precious jewels who I couldn't live without. If you're one of these friends, know I love you more than words can say, and I'm thankful for your presence in my life.
Showing posts with label gratitude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gratitude. Show all posts
Monday, November 23, 2015
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
Gratitude Lesson #3: Asking the Tough Questions
Today, as I had a life chat with Alexa, a dear friend and up-and-coming colleague, we talked about those dark places that we occasionally get into in our lives. I've written about these low places before - the doldrums, the proving grounds, the valleys. They suck, but they're real points in our lives when things just don't fit or work the way they're supposed to. We may feel down, or lost, or off our groove. Whatever it is, the low places are NOT fun.
What often helps me wake up a little, to get enough of a jolt of electricity to get myself moving again so I can try to get out of the valley, is often the thing I dread doing the most - asking myself (or finding someone to ask) the tough questions.
You know the questions I mean.
"What are you NOT doing?"
"Are you really doing your best?"
"What are you so scared of?"
"Who are you, really?"
These questions are scary as hell, let's be honest. But let's also be honest that a lot of times, we're tempted in life's valleys to throw ourselves a big pity party. And for a while, that can be a healthy behavior. Acknowledge your feelings - sadness, fear, anger, anxiety, etc. Know thyself.
But also know that dwelling on those feelings won't get you out of the valley. You must name the feeling, of course, but you also must acknowledge that that feeling is probably the very barrier (or one of them) that is preventing you from getting out of the valley. And by asking the tough questions, you are saying to yourself, "Okay. So let's say I name this feeling, this barrier.... how am I going to overcome it, or find someone to help me overcome it?"
Dwelling in the valley lets the bad feeling win; dwelling lets the darkness win. Asking the tough question is shining a flashlight on the dark corners, opening the curtains a little to let some sunlight in.
Sometimes, these tough questions can make the valleys seem even deeper and darker, because we recognize how far we have fallen, and how far we have to get back up again. However, by asking the tough questions, I think we acknowledge that there's another mountain to climb, there's another journey to be had. Life doesn't end at the valley; life is about seeking out the next mountaintop to climb.
So find the person who will be your proverbial sherpa, who's going to ask you the tough questions. It may be a parent, a family member, a friend, a mentor. It may be you who's brave enough to shine the light in the dark place. And know that it's going to hurt, asking the tough questions. It's never easy getting out of the valley. But if you're willing to not only name your valley, but also name the barrier blocking your way out onto the next mountaintop, you're going to discover the path out of the bad times a lot faster.
Take it from someone who knows. I'm so thankful to have had friends, family, and mentors who have asked me the tough questions, and recently, I've found the courage to ask myself the tough questions. In the end, I've found that it's worth the risk of the pain to be able to find a way, one step at a time, out of the low places.
What often helps me wake up a little, to get enough of a jolt of electricity to get myself moving again so I can try to get out of the valley, is often the thing I dread doing the most - asking myself (or finding someone to ask) the tough questions.
You know the questions I mean.
"What are you NOT doing?"
"Are you really doing your best?"
"What are you so scared of?"
"Who are you, really?"
These questions are scary as hell, let's be honest. But let's also be honest that a lot of times, we're tempted in life's valleys to throw ourselves a big pity party. And for a while, that can be a healthy behavior. Acknowledge your feelings - sadness, fear, anger, anxiety, etc. Know thyself.
But also know that dwelling on those feelings won't get you out of the valley. You must name the feeling, of course, but you also must acknowledge that that feeling is probably the very barrier (or one of them) that is preventing you from getting out of the valley. And by asking the tough questions, you are saying to yourself, "Okay. So let's say I name this feeling, this barrier.... how am I going to overcome it, or find someone to help me overcome it?"
Dwelling in the valley lets the bad feeling win; dwelling lets the darkness win. Asking the tough question is shining a flashlight on the dark corners, opening the curtains a little to let some sunlight in.
Sometimes, these tough questions can make the valleys seem even deeper and darker, because we recognize how far we have fallen, and how far we have to get back up again. However, by asking the tough questions, I think we acknowledge that there's another mountain to climb, there's another journey to be had. Life doesn't end at the valley; life is about seeking out the next mountaintop to climb.
So find the person who will be your proverbial sherpa, who's going to ask you the tough questions. It may be a parent, a family member, a friend, a mentor. It may be you who's brave enough to shine the light in the dark place. And know that it's going to hurt, asking the tough questions. It's never easy getting out of the valley. But if you're willing to not only name your valley, but also name the barrier blocking your way out onto the next mountaintop, you're going to discover the path out of the bad times a lot faster.
Take it from someone who knows. I'm so thankful to have had friends, family, and mentors who have asked me the tough questions, and recently, I've found the courage to ask myself the tough questions. In the end, I've found that it's worth the risk of the pain to be able to find a way, one step at a time, out of the low places.
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Gratitude Lesson #2: When Skies Are Gray
As a part of my One Word 2015, Gratitude, I'm trying to take some time to recount and reflect on lessons I'm learning about gratitude.
Today's post is going to be short, but it needs to be written.
It's mid-winter now. Although daylight is finally getting longer again, the cold weather just won't let up, and the odds are that days are cloudy instead of sunny. Life, too, is often "cloudy" and challenging this time of year. Not only are my work and professional commitments abuzz with the turn of the year, this is just one of those times that everything seems to be converging on me all at once.
Some of it is good - new responsibilities at work, the beginning of the graduate student hiring season - and some of it is not so good.
There are times in life when skies are gray, proverbially and literally. What I'm learning to be grateful for are the people around me who manage to bring the sun out whenever they're around. Loved ones who I talk to on the phone or via text or G-chat; coworkers who know exactly what joke or story to tell; students who pop in to tell me enthusiastically about their new program idea or just to say "hi."
These are the bright rays of sunshine that brighten up my cloudy days, and for these moments, I'm awfully thankful.
Today's post is going to be short, but it needs to be written.
It's mid-winter now. Although daylight is finally getting longer again, the cold weather just won't let up, and the odds are that days are cloudy instead of sunny. Life, too, is often "cloudy" and challenging this time of year. Not only are my work and professional commitments abuzz with the turn of the year, this is just one of those times that everything seems to be converging on me all at once.
Some of it is good - new responsibilities at work, the beginning of the graduate student hiring season - and some of it is not so good.
There are times in life when skies are gray, proverbially and literally. What I'm learning to be grateful for are the people around me who manage to bring the sun out whenever they're around. Loved ones who I talk to on the phone or via text or G-chat; coworkers who know exactly what joke or story to tell; students who pop in to tell me enthusiastically about their new program idea or just to say "hi."
These are the bright rays of sunshine that brighten up my cloudy days, and for these moments, I'm awfully thankful.
Monday, January 5, 2015
Gratitude Lesson #1: When your car doors freeze
I knew that when I chose a word like "gratitude" for my 2015 One Word resolution, I would be challenged. All new year's resolutions get challenged eventually, we know this to be fact (that's why we tend to break them!). And with how near and dear this word is to my heart for this year, I figured there were going to be some tough moments over the next 360 days.
And yet, somehow, I didn't expect to be tested before I even got to work today, my first day back for the new year. But there I was. It was 9:30 a.m. this morning, a Monday. It was approximately 21* Fahrenheit outside, and all four doors on my car were frozen shut.
I have to pause the story here to say, I drive a 1999 Honda CR-V. She is a beautiful and special car named Lady Luck, and because she is a bit of a senior citizen, her locks have been known to freeze a time or two before. It's cold in Indiana. It snows occasionally. I do not panic. Normally, my plan of attack is thus:
1. Open the back hatch of my car.
2. Climb into the very back luggage area of my car and then clamber over the backseat and thence into the driver's seat.
3. Pray no one thinks I'm breaking into a random stranger's car to steal it.
4. Start the car, turn the heat on full blast.
5. Play with the (manual) locks a few times, hoping they budge.
6. When they don't, exit the car the same way (while repeating step 3) and go inside to finish getting ready for the day.
7. When I'm ready to depart, climb back in through the very back hatch (again, step 3 is key here) and try the locks again.
At this point, normally one of my backseat passenger doors has unfrozen, so I can close the back hatch and climb in through the back passenger door like a (more) normal person, and then wend my way to campus. Once I've made it to campus, the front driver or passenger door has usually thawed, so I can go about my day as usual.
Today, Lady Luck was just. not. having. it.
I waited for a solid 20 minutes while the heat blasted, while I prayed and jiggled the locks and kicked the doors and wiggled the handles and... nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. The clock ticked closer to 9:30 a.m., and I had to face facts - those doors were not. going. to. open.
Twelve hours later, this story is pretty funny. Heck, an hour after it happened this story was funny. But in the moment, I wanted to weep. I wanted to give up, call somebody, pull out a hair dryer and an extension cord (don't think I didn't think about it, I sure did), go to town on my poor mostly-reliable-but-sometimes-decrepit car.
Instead, I paused. I took a deep, frigid breath. I said to myself, "Gratitude." I sent up a little prayer of thankfulness. And I climbed back in my car, turned it off, climbed back out (yep, got my workout in for the day), closed the back hatch, and decided to take the bus.
And you know what? I noticed the sun shining, and how markedly different (friendly, even) frigid winter days seem when the sun shines. I noticed the birds singing, and how particularly beautiful they sounded over the quiet morning air. I pulled up the IU Mobile app, and was infinitely thankful for the genius who came up with live bus tracking. I walked 200 feet from my front door to a bus stop that is free for me to use as an IU employee and whose bus routes spread all throughout campus and town. And when I caught the bus 5 minutes later (a little chilled, I'll admit) I rode in a warm vehicle just 20 minutes right to the front door of the building where I work.
And when I got home this evening (driven by my wonderful grad student), my front driver's side door unlocked and opened up right away.
I guess at the end of it all, I have a lot to be grateful for.
I wonder how I'll exercise my gratitude tomorrow?
And yet, somehow, I didn't expect to be tested before I even got to work today, my first day back for the new year. But there I was. It was 9:30 a.m. this morning, a Monday. It was approximately 21* Fahrenheit outside, and all four doors on my car were frozen shut.
I have to pause the story here to say, I drive a 1999 Honda CR-V. She is a beautiful and special car named Lady Luck, and because she is a bit of a senior citizen, her locks have been known to freeze a time or two before. It's cold in Indiana. It snows occasionally. I do not panic. Normally, my plan of attack is thus:
1. Open the back hatch of my car.
2. Climb into the very back luggage area of my car and then clamber over the backseat and thence into the driver's seat.
3. Pray no one thinks I'm breaking into a random stranger's car to steal it.
4. Start the car, turn the heat on full blast.
5. Play with the (manual) locks a few times, hoping they budge.
6. When they don't, exit the car the same way (while repeating step 3) and go inside to finish getting ready for the day.
7. When I'm ready to depart, climb back in through the very back hatch (again, step 3 is key here) and try the locks again.
At this point, normally one of my backseat passenger doors has unfrozen, so I can close the back hatch and climb in through the back passenger door like a (more) normal person, and then wend my way to campus. Once I've made it to campus, the front driver or passenger door has usually thawed, so I can go about my day as usual.
Today, Lady Luck was just. not. having. it.
I waited for a solid 20 minutes while the heat blasted, while I prayed and jiggled the locks and kicked the doors and wiggled the handles and... nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. The clock ticked closer to 9:30 a.m., and I had to face facts - those doors were not. going. to. open.
Twelve hours later, this story is pretty funny. Heck, an hour after it happened this story was funny. But in the moment, I wanted to weep. I wanted to give up, call somebody, pull out a hair dryer and an extension cord (don't think I didn't think about it, I sure did), go to town on my poor mostly-reliable-but-sometimes-decrepit car.
Instead, I paused. I took a deep, frigid breath. I said to myself, "Gratitude." I sent up a little prayer of thankfulness. And I climbed back in my car, turned it off, climbed back out (yep, got my workout in for the day), closed the back hatch, and decided to take the bus.
And you know what? I noticed the sun shining, and how markedly different (friendly, even) frigid winter days seem when the sun shines. I noticed the birds singing, and how particularly beautiful they sounded over the quiet morning air. I pulled up the IU Mobile app, and was infinitely thankful for the genius who came up with live bus tracking. I walked 200 feet from my front door to a bus stop that is free for me to use as an IU employee and whose bus routes spread all throughout campus and town. And when I caught the bus 5 minutes later (a little chilled, I'll admit) I rode in a warm vehicle just 20 minutes right to the front door of the building where I work.
And when I got home this evening (driven by my wonderful grad student), my front driver's side door unlocked and opened up right away.
I guess at the end of it all, I have a lot to be grateful for.
I wonder how I'll exercise my gratitude tomorrow?
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