The power of choice

“There is a simple realisation from which all personal improvement and growth emerges. This is the realisation that we, individually, are responsible for everything in our lives, no matter the external circumstances… often the difference between a problem being painful or being powerful is a sense that we chose it, and that we are responsible for it.” - Subtle Art of Not Giving a F***

It was this statement, something so simple, something I’ve always known but easily forget in the middle of all the madness, that hit me today. The past twelve months summarised in a single sentence. We are responsible for everything in our lives, no matter the external circumstances. Had I taken responsibility? Not at all. There were moments of course where I took control, I stepped into the challenges, the unknown. That I owned what I had to do and I got on with it. But if the twelve months was to be summarised, I had spent most of it in a state of powerlessness. And it was me who had taken my power away.

I didn’t want to be doing the work I was doing. But I also wasn’t ready to leave my job. And I wasn’t very good at saying no when I really should have. A year of pain. A year of struggle. A year of resentment and frustration. A year of highs and lows, that got so bad at times I lost count of the number of days before I handed in my notice that I walked in from work and sat on my kitchen floor and cried. I was stressed, I didn’t have a bloody clue what I was doing half the time and I was so damn tired.

For the second time in my life I found myself in a job where I really craved the opportunity to get good at something and learn from someone with experience, and instead through various circumstances found myself without a manager and taking on their responsibilities. I remember really pondering why I couldn’t have just one job where I got the time and space to hone my skills under the mentorship of someone who’d been doing the work for years.

I had though, had a choice. And both times I said yes to something I really deep down knew I didn’t want. In both instances I believed I was making the best choice I had available to me. I didn’t want to give up my work, I didn’t want to let down my colleagues and I believed that not taking on those roles would have led me to taking on the work in one way or another anyway. On reflection there should have been an alternative choice - the one where I said no and drew my line on what I could and could not do.

If I’m being honest I absolutely knew I shouldn’t have said yes. Every fibre in my body was telling me not to do it. But I convinced myself I could and that, despite not wanting to, everything would be fine. Because I didn’t listen to that inner compass telling me not to cross that line, I found myself reluctantly (and resentfully) saying I’d do it. I didn’t feel as though I had a choice. I gave up the power I had to choose, and I resented the experience because of it.

I looked externally for something or someone to blame. Don’t get me wrong, I had my days and weeks where I was killing it. Where I was smashing goals and really taking it all on. Where I could see the progress and kept pushing forward. But the energy and self-pep talks it was taking just to get through a week were exhausting. Come the weekends all I wanted to do was sleep. In the evenings all I wanted to do was to be alone to decompress, recoup and regain enough energy to do it all again the next day.

Clarity through the chaos

Looking back on that year I cannot believe I stuck it out for as long as I did. The definition of insanity is continuing to do the same thing and expecting a different result. Yet there I was, week after week, pushing the same shit uphill just to have it roll back on me in time for Monday. The mental fatigue was excruciating. I was unhappy. I dreaded going to work and it was getting harder to get up in the mornings (and I LOVE my early mornings). I swung into what could only be described as a depressive episode and I spent my days pretending to be ok when I really, really wasn’t, just so no one would know how bad it really was.

By Christmas I knew I had to leave. I knew it wasn’t sustainable and I couldn’t keep working the way I was. I did not, in any way, shape or form, want to be doing what I was doing. But it would take another four months, and a couple of very honest and strongly worded conversations with two women I admire greatly, before I actually acted on it. Sometimes it takes someone who isn’t a close friend or family member to shake you awake and force you to acknowledge that no matter how many times you say it to yourself and others, everything is actually not fine. You are not OK.

It was up to me to take responsibility. Firstly, in hindsight I should have said no more determinedly and stuck with it. I should have drawn that damn line, not in the sand where it got washed away by the next wave, but in the ground. I should have cracked open the earth, opened a chasm and stood on one side and said there was no way I was crossing it.

That’s what I wanted to do, but I didn’t. I said yes, because I’m a people pleaser. Because I really loved the people I worked with and kept trying to convince myself that the work I was doing wasn’t that bad (for the record it absolutely wouldn’t have been for someone who wanted that role). Because I was afraid that if I said no I’d have no choice but to quit. Because I didn’t know what I would do if I quit. Because I was afraid I wouldn’t get another job with people I liked so much or being part of something I really believed in. Because I didn’t think I was good enough. Because I was afraid saying no meant I was failing. That quitting meant I was failing. At work? At life? At adulting? I’m not sure, maybe all of it. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. These ideas seem laughable now and absolutely ridiculous.

But when I was finally given the shake I needed, I took a step back. I got outside, remembered to take a deep breath and stop catastrophising everything, I saw all of it for what it was. I managed to get a little perspective and despite the anxiety and perfectionism still being there, I finally heard that stronger voice I needed to hear.

The one that said - I know you think you’re failing but I promise you you’re not. You’re doing OK. Stop holding on so tightly. What’s the worst that is going to happen? You know what your values are. You know you’re strong enough to pick yourself up if you fall. You know you’re going to be OK. So, what are you afraid of? Draw that damn line in the earth, create that chasm and put your foot down. Take responsibility for your circumstances and have the courage to do what you need to do. Life is too short to accept circumstances that go against your values. Life is too short to wake up in the morning and have a visceral bodily reaction to what you’re doing with your life. Life is too short to not live up to who you believe you can be. You are not that person, and nobody is responsible for taking this next step but you.

What does courage look like?

So, I took responsibility.

I looked at my values honestly. I acknowledged it wasn’t going to be easy. But I figured out what I really needed and I gave myself permission to take it. Whatever may come.

Funnily enough, the moment I checked back in with my values and made the call to leave, everything became easier. It felt as though I’d hit play on a film I’d paused and I didn’t feel stuck anymore. I felt like I’d regained control over my decisions.

I stopped stressing that I was letting people down. Letting myself down. That I was failing. I was exhausted from pushing it all uphill, so I let it all go. And when I let it all go, the world didn’t end. Suddenly everything opened up. I was feeling exposed, vulnerable and more awake and more myself than I had in a long time. It was like taking a big breath out and only in doing so realising I’d been holding my breath so long I was almost dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

I have a quote saved in my phone from Brene Brown that goes: “The root of the word courage is cor - the Latin word for heart. In one of its earliest forms, the word courage had a very different meaning than it does today. Courage originally meant ‘to speak one’s mind by telling all one’s heart’. We’ve lost touch with the idea that speaking honestly and openly about who we are, about what we’re feeling and about our experiences (good and bad) is the definition of courage.”

Courage has always been one of my core values. And I’ve always meant it in terms of doing what I believed to be right and true. Not attempting some elaborate feat of bravery. No, the everyday choice to be who you are and make decisions based on your values, not on what someone else or society expects of you. To listen to your heart and use the balance of logic and reason to take action that aligns with who you are. I put courage back at the core of what I do and who I am and I chose to walk away. To accept that I could change my circumstances even if the ‘what next’ was terrifying and unclear.

Finding the good problems to have in life

I’m now sitting in Victoria, British Columbia. A beautiful little coastal town (or city depending who you ask) on Vancouver Island in Canada. I’m staring down all those fears that inevitably crop up when you’ve made the decision to quit your job and pretty much take a two-month sabbatical to figure things out with no idea what you’ll do after. Some days the anxiety is pretty high. Some days I’m almost certain I’ve lost my mind and I should probably go home. But then I gently remind myself that it’s going to be OK. That I’ve got this, and I should have more faith in myself. What would I say to a friend? Well, the same things I’m starting to learn to say to myself.

It’s serendipitous timing that I’ve had the Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*** on my Kindle for months and I’ve only now begun reading it. I don’t agree with all that’s written but it’s hit the nail on the head about some things and given me the reassurance I need right now that if I’m taking responsibility and valuing the right things, the problems I have in my life will be the kind I want. We’ll never be without problems, but we have a choice in how we respond and where we choose to put our power and responsibility.

The problems I’m facing right now - what should I do with the time that I have in Canada? What do I want to get out of this next month? What values do I need to focus on and how do I manage some of this fear and anxiety around starting a business in a sector I know next to nothing about? And what is holding me back from writing more? Some others at the back of my mind that don’t need answering quite yet - what work should I pursue so I can support myself? And where will I live when I get back to Australia? (my stuff is currently in storage and we’re moving to the Gold Coast).

When I look at them all accumulatively, I can’t help but smile. What a wonderful set of problems to have. What a privilege that this is the worst I have to think about. I don’t have anywhere near all the answers, but this set of problems is by far a better set to work with than the ones I had before I had the courage to draw my line and step out of my comfort zone. This set of problems are of my own making. These problems are my responsibility. Knowing this and continuing to remind myself of it, is giving me the courage to keep stumbling down the path unknown. Now I just need to begin to do something about these ideas I have.

Sx