Priorities

Just a few months ago, I underwent one of the most stressful experiences of my life:  defining my priorities. This isn't the day-to-day priorities. It isn't the laundry first, dishes later priorities. It was my life's priorities and how my choices were going to reflect, or impact, those priorities.

I'll be honest, for a long time my priorities went undefined. I could balance my life pretty well that this "checklist, honest to goodness, note card, life changing" definition of priorities hadn't been necessary. I knew family was important, I knew self fulfillment was important, I knew my job was important. But I didn't know how they ranked next to one another - and what that meant for my future. 

Those of you who know me know that I've been building a resume since the tender grade of 8. I went to a fair at Pine Middle School to look at classes coming down the pipeline for my first high school experience -and that's when I came across JROTC (Junior Reserve Officer Training Corp). And while a great motivator for ultimately selecting this program was that I hated PE, an even greater one was my resume. 

Four and a half years later I was presenting to an active duty General, me second in command for JROTC at my high school. I got asked the question, "Why did you do JROTC?" and my response was "Because it looks better on a resume than PE." Now, I received a lot of fulfillment from this program - public speaking, leadership, and confidence to name a few. But I have always been thinking of the future for myself professionally. 

And then life happened, and shit, was I in trouble. 

For those of you who don't know, Tay (my daughter) was a ... surprise. And thankfully, my life happened to work out again - primarily because I had this amazing support system through my family, my work, and my coworkers. So I avoided the "priorities" discussion because I maintained. 

Then I had the opportunity of a life time. I got called to interview at a large company in the bay area after they had seen me present. And Lindsey, the go-getter, the resume builder, couldn't turn down the experience to at least try for the position. 

I'll let you in on a secret - I kept secretly hoping that they wouldn't pick me. Seriously. I didn't want to face the discussion of priorities that would face me if I got the job. How cowardly is that? 

Because if you have been maintaining for a while, let me tell you, this discussion was the hardest six weeks of discussions. I sought out advice, I wrote, I asked my family, I thought. For once it seemed my priorities would come out in the open, that I couldn't maintain, because they would directly conflict one another. 

So here I am - professional, hard worker, go getter, A-game...mommy, wife, family member. And yes, these items can directly contradict each other. 

I thought I was balancing it well - because I was a professional. I spoke at conferences, I presented to clients. I made an impact. And I did it from home. I got to be there for Taylor - for my husband, for my family. I could take time off to help a sick friend. But this new job required a move, one that would take me outside of my sphere of influence and comfort. 

So I had to decide - would moving, including almost a 2 hour daily commute, a long work week, and family only on vacation and holidays, be enough to fulfill the priority of family? 

And would not choosing this new position leave me so unfulfilled that I would be depressed? I have known for a long time about myself that I am happy working, that I am fulfilled, that I am more at peace when I am accessing my professional side. So, by not choosing this position, was I leaving a portion of myself untapped? 

And then I was offered the job. Life. Decisions. 

I decided on family. 

No, it wasn't this easy discussion where I came to this after a good night's sleep and morning cup of coffee. It was six grueling weeks of defining what actually gave me happiness. 

And do you know what it was? 

It was the little things. 

Seriously. Not to be cliche - because I know that is the name of my blog. But it was the little things.  Every minute, every picture I see, every random time that I see Taylor with her Grandmas, grandpas, cousins, and father, I know I made the right decision. Every time I need an extra hand (which is a lot), any time I need support, I need care and love, I know I made the right decision. 

But I'm still a working mom - because I am still, at heart, a go getter, resume maker, professional kind of girl. And I want Taylor to know that she can access every portion of herself to find her sense of fulfillment. During those six weeks of discussions, I found that the main reason I received professional fulfillment was the ability to have an impact. I wanted to know that I was valued, that I was changing the work, that what I did mattered to those around me. 

At the end of my life, I won't want to be remembered for that last minute branding change. I don't know that I even need to be remembered. I just want to fill my life with as much of love as I possibly can so I can value the ride. 

A Fear of Uselessness

Nothing scares me more than an inability to change a situation, or contribute to the solution. It's that feeling when you see a loved one suffering from sickness, unhappiness, or just life in general - and phrases like "It'll be okay" and "It happened for a reason" fall flat on the floor. Compassion drives us to want to take on others' hurts and pains and internalize it because it's better than watching someone suffer.

Then come atrocities like yesterday's in Sparks (close to my hometown). A school shooting. And it's hard to feel anything but useless as we ask ourselves why.

There is a way to make a difference. There is something that we can do about it.

If you read my blog "A Powerful Secret" you have seen into the window of my life that was plagued by mental illness of a family member - and that was just the introduction.

While that series will be continued here, the point of it was that I was ashamed to talk about it. I was ashamed of myself, my situation, my feelings.

And I was alone.

Mental illness is a taboo in our society because we value strength - and we define strength by the ability to get through things alone.

On top of my shame, I felt like I couldn't tell anyone because I needed to prove that I was strong enough to do it alone.

Here's a secret: Strength is not gauged by your ability to internalize. Strength is humility. Strength is asking for help. Strength is community.

How do we make Mental Illness a front runner? How do we make it less of a taboo? How do we help those in need support before they break?

I've started. I've started because I'm sharing my story, my experience, my turmoil with mental illness. It's not a pretty story, but it's a start.

I'm done being useless. I don't know where to go, but I'm going somewhere.

I'm asking for help. I'm asking you, yes, you, to help me. I'm not a psychiatrist. I'm not a doctor. I'm not a counselor. But I am a facilitator. A passionate, driven, forceful facilitator.

I need doctors. I need counselors. I need community members who want to make something good from this tragedy. I need a plan. And it starts with you.