Tag: pause

The Reset

There’s an old country song that I like. One whose chorus reverberates on the wildest of days.

Stop the world and let me off. I’m tired of going round and round.

When the going gets tough, it’s hard not to heed those words. It’s tempting to fantasize about heading to a remote beach somewhere and just letting all our troubles slip away.

Yet, when these thoughts do enter my mind, they don’t stay there for long. For try as I might, I just can’t embrace the thought of an escape.

This has frustrated friends and family, who have tried to lure me onto cruise ships or out to the wilderness. Every time they’ve asked me to join them on these ventures, I’ve resisted.

I just can’t give up the life I know, not even for a minute. I just can’t reset.

Unless, of course, my hand is forced.

I was once asked which animal I most identified with.

A lion, I quickly replied. I’m honorable and courageous but also determined.

As I think back on this question, my answer seems spot-on. And yet, I keep thinking that I should have chosen a mule as my spirit animal instead. Because I’m stubborn as heck.

Yes, ever since my earliest days, I’ve been a creature of routine. Change hasn’t excited me; it’s terrified me.

This fear wouldn’t rear its head in normal ways. But my aversion to novelty was still plenty evident.

For instance, I would travel with my family without much of a fuss. But once we got to our destination, I would often refuse to eat much. I was already a skinny kid, but I’d come home looking like a skeleton.

So no, the idea of a reset didn’t appeal to me. In fact, I’ve mostly acquiesced to resetting when I had no other choice.

I have had the courage and determination to see the process through in those moments. I wouldn’t say I enjoyed the experience. But I’ve found myself better for going through it.

Heading off to college made me more independent. Moving halfway across America for my first real job made me self-sufficient. And leaving that career without a backup plan made me reassess what I valued in life.

I transformed from a mule into a lion, rising from a lowly pack animal to the king of the jungle. And as the years went on, I settled in. My metamorphosis was complete.

Or so I thought.

I’ve experienced some jarring moments throughout my life.

I made the harrowing journey out of New York City on 9/11. I once got into a car wreck on a Florida interstate. I’ve hunkered down in the wake of multiple tornado warnings in Texas.

And yet, nothing quite compared to the early days of the COVID pandemic.

At first glance, everything seemed normal. The sun was shining. Birds were chirping. Plants were in bloom.

But such rites of springtime were punctuated by the sound of silence.

My once-vibrant world was reduced to ten square miles for about three months. My SUV sat idle in the garage while I worked from my dining room table. My friends and family went from real people to faces on my laptop screen.

I should have been OK with this. I’m an introvert, after all. And a deadly virus was on the loose.

Still, I couldn’t help feeling cheated by the circumstances.

I had built a life that I was comfortable with. I was anticipating a blockbuster year. And then it was all quickly ripped away.

As I waded through the quagmire of those early-pandemic days, I kept encountering the same advice. It was in news articles, business podcasts, and seemingly every other type of media I consumed to pass the time.

Now is the time to reset, the advice read. Now is the time to try something new, to build something from the chaos.

This advice enraged me. For I didn’t want to reset. I didn’t feel I needed to reset.

I was fine with the way things were. But now, that feeling of Zen had been ripped apart by an invisible storm. And once the storm passed, I’d have to work my tail off just to get back what I’d so recently had.

So no, the idea of a reset was not appealing in the least.

But maybe it should have been.

How do we look at the past?

Do we assess it honestly, warts and all? Or do we add a golden hue?

These are questions I consider when looking back on the calm before the storm. For our mind can play tricks on us.

I remember the months before the 9/11 attacks being a joyous time. But they weren’t.

My grandmother was undergoing cancer treatment that summer. And I was in the early stages of teenage listlessness.

Similarly, I like to think I was on a roll before the COVID pandemic rocked our world. I was successful and self-sufficient. I’d recently gotten a graduate degree in business administration. I was writing, cooking, and exercising regularly.

On the surface, things were great. But some subtle fault lines had begun to show.

I had developed a degree of social anxiety, particularly when around large groups of friends. I had started to lose patience with a stagnating job search. And I’d been working myself to the bone to avoid dealing with these issues.

The prolonged pause brought on by the pandemic didn’t magically fix these issues. If anything, it exacerbated them.

Social anxiety gave way to a profound sense of loss. The job search gave way to the realities of a steep recession. And I found myself working even harder as I adjusted to my new reality.

Still, there’s no doubt that the pandemic forced me to reset. The attrition of the event alone made that unavoidable.

And as I’ve emerged from that reboot, something strange has happened. I’ve found myself thriving.

My bandwidth for socializing has increased exponentially. I was able to land a job that’s been everything I hoped for and more. And I’ve approached each day with an air of confidence that simply had not been there before.

As I consider all this, I regret my previous aversion to the reset. I wish I had forced myself to pause here and there before nature forced my hand.

I now recognize that resetting is a sign of strength, not weakness. I now understand that rebooting is a key feature of growth.

So, moving forward, I will heed the gospel of that old country song.

Every now and then, I will stop the world and let myself off for a moment. Not to escape my reality, but to realize my potential.

But this is not just about me. I encourage you to do the same when the moment calls for it.

A well-timed reset can work wonders. Don’t let the opportunity pass you by.

Taking Up Space

When it comes to impact statements, it’s all too easy to draw a line in the sand.

Are we making a difference, or taking up space?

This is a black and white delineation in a world of gray. Yet, the underlying message remains on point.

We’re obligated to make a difference. To contribute positively to our community. To leave the world better than we found it.

For our society is like an engine. The more its components help it run, the more efficiently it chugs along. The more those components sit idle, the more it drags.

To a great measure, this is unequivocal fact. Regardless our opinion of a social safety net or welfare, there is a cost that comes with providing opportunities. From paychecks to subsidies, nothing we receive to put a roof on our heads, food in our mouths or clothes on our bodies truly comes for free.

This cost is typically offset by the contributions we make to society, and specifically the economy. This could be 40 hours a week helping a company provide a service to the market. Or the generation of ideas or academic thoughts that allow the society to break boundaries and improve efficiencies. These types of activities provide balance.

But when we’re receiving this assistance while sitting on the couch, it could be argued that there is no balance. What we get is more than what we give in return.

Under this definition, we’re taking up space.

Now, opportunity does not always come equal. As such, we may be stuck on the couch not of our own volition.

Regardless, the optics of this outcome are not great.

So, our society often puts stipulations behind handouts. It requires all of us to at least make an honest pass at offsetting the costs behind them.

This could mean applying for jobs. Or filling out forms to explain disabilities that stand in the way of our opportunities.

The underlying message is clear.

As a society, we don’t tolerate taking up space.

 

I learned the mantra of making a difference from an early age.

I recall waving goodbye to my father as he got on the commuter rail in his business suit. Or how my mother dropped me off at school and then headed to her job.

Most acutely, I remember when my father switched careers and became a teacher. He hoped to make a bigger difference in the world, and make his own that much brighter.

A quarter century later, I’d say he has achieved that objective. And he continues to do so.

Following my parents’ example, I’ve worked hard in two careers throughout my adult life. I’ve taken nothing for granted. I’ve embraced each day with a sense of determination and purpose.

In the workplace and out of it, I’ve sought to make a difference. To be productive. Not to take up space.

This mission has guided the decisions I’ve made, both professionally and socially. My mantra of impact has led to my drive and my edginess. It’s filled my daily to-do list with a gauntlet of activities. It’s encouraged me to push my limits and take on more responsibilities.

Each and every day, I am following my mission. I am being productive. I am not taking up space.

But maybe I should be.

Living life as a productivity-holic has its own associated costs. (Is productivity-holic a word? I feel it should be.)

Most notable of these costs is burnout.

It takes a lot of energy to devote so much time to an agenda. Focusing on maximum productivity, on making the biggest difference I can — that constantly requires me to think of What’s Now and What’s Next.

The detritus of this focus can lead to exhaustion.

And exhaustion can weaken a mind. It can lessen its impact.

I have felt these effects loud and clear. Yet, whenever I have, another thought has come to my mind.

Suck it up. Keep making a difference. Don’t you dare take up space.

This is stupid.

Taking a breather now and then is critical. It rejuvenates us and unshackles our mind. It allows us to make our biggest impact.

Yes, taking up space causes a drag on society. But the short-term cost is more than offset by the long-term gain we can provide.

So, moving forward, I will start building these breathers into my life. I will stop viewing the concept of taking up space as heresy.

And I will continue to take up space here and there, as long as such endeavors are undertaken with a greater goal in mind.

While it’s blasphemous for one to prescribe the path they have not yet taken, I encourage you to join me on this journey. For it will provide mutual benefits.

Let us find our pause. And in doing so, let’s refresh our purpose.

The space we take up will not be wasted.