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I Was Lost But Now I’m Found

Firestorm in the shape of a fist and the middle finger

There are plenty of reasons I haven’t written in this blog in a long time. The easy reasons are that my career has been busy and I’ve been managing a family building on the side. I also decided awhile back that I shouldn’t write unless I had something to say. To be honest, I just didn’t feel like opening up like I used to.

But lately my willingness has returned.

Mood music:

The last year has included some of the best and worst times of my life. My wife and kids continue to make me proud with all they do, and I absolutely adore my still-new job. Though I never wanted responsibility for the family real estate, I found ways to make the best of it, and I’ve certainly learned a lot. I’ve also always been a sucker for trying to fix things that are broken, and in that building I found no greater challenge.

But somewhere along the way, I lost myself.

I started trying to be my father and do things the way I thought he would have. For a while, I was paying more attention to that than my real job. Sometimes I had no choice, because the property has a huge environmental cleanup attached to it.

My mental and physical health deteriorated. The frequency of migraines shot up, I gained weight and started slipping into my habit of being a people pleaser.

I grew obsessed with saving my father’s dream of selling the building and leaving his kids a financial cushion. I desperately tried to make everyone proud, especially my sisters, who co-own the building with me.

As I worked to put the property back on its feet and rent out the spaces, I found myself trying to put my trust in the various contractors who came along, when I should have been eyeing everyone skeptically and asking tougher questions. When a property needs work, it’s stunning how the sharks smell blood and start circling.

By year’s end, I was bitter and resentful, angry with my father for dumping this mess on me. I resented being left on my own without the necessary business experience. Most importantly, I started to realize I wasn’t being myself.

In mid-2016, I left one job to go to another. The role turned out to be different from what was discussed early on. I found myself with little to do, so I took that as a reason to focus on the building even more.

That didn’t last long, because I’ve never been one to phone it in with work, and the fact that I was doing so was eating at me.

Then I found another job, and in the process found I myself again — remembering what I did for a living and why I was on this planet. The person I was began fighting the person I had become.

As I fell back in love with my real work, my resentment of the family responsibility grew. Some questioned how I was doing things, which made me angrier, since I felt everyone was happy to leave it all on me in the beginning. I started to get sicker.

At the bottom of that pit, things started getting clear again.

I remembered some important things:

  • My first responsibility is to God, and, by extension, my immediate family — specifically my wife and children.
  • My life’s work is in information security, not real estate.

A few months ago I took all my confusion into the confession booth. The priest suggested I practice prudence — using reason to govern myself. In my case, prudence meant putting the added responsibilities in their proper place, behind the things that are more important.

That’s what I’ve been doing.

I asked my sisters to start taking on some of the building responsibilities, which they have. I began limiting the days at the family building to once a week and spending most of the time each week at my company’s office. It’s made things better.

There’s still a lot of turmoil right now. I can’t fully escape the building. I still have to do better at doing right by my family. But my life has come into clearer focus, and I’m grateful for that.

The time for people pleasing is over. If my father is watching, I hope he understands that I can’t be him and that I never should have tried.

Some will be taken aback by the choices I make going forward, but they’ll have to deal with it. If something doesn’t fit into my top priorities, I won’t spend any more time on it than I have to.

If that makes them angry, so be it. It’s time I got back to being me.

Fire storm in the shape of a fist and the middle finger

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I’m a Relapsed People Pleaser

I’ve had an epiphany about my recent depression — a realization so brutally simple that I feel stupid for not seeing it sooner.

I’ve been miserable in part because I fell back into a habit I knew was corrosive. I once wrote a post about overcoming it. That made me feel even more like a chump, because this thing I had overcome was back, whipping me again. And I didn’t see it coming.

I relapsed into people pleasing.

Mood music:

http://youtu.be/7ZVbGj6wp_8

In recent months, I’ve obsessively tried to please colleagues, friends and family. I’ve worked myself to exhaustion trying to make everyone happy. In the process, I burned myself out and developed a low sense of self-worth.

Most of the time, you can’t please people. I learned that lesson a long time ago, but it seems I forgot it.

It used to be that I wanted desperately to make every boss happy, and I succeeded for a while. But in doing so I damaged myself to the core and came within inches of an emotional breakdown. It caused me to work 80 hours a week, waking up each morning scared to death that I would fall short or fail altogether. No employee gets back 100 percent of what they put in to the corporate machine. Sure, you can make your direct bosses happy, but the folks many layers above them in the food chain still won’t know who you are or care that you work 80 hours a week.

I wanted to make every family member happy, too. That didn’t work, either, because when you get right down to it, people are never satisfied for long. Humans have never-ending, ever-changing wants and needs.

Understanding that, I changed my ways a few years ago and spent more time being true to myself, playing to my strengths and passions and not worrying about who was happy and who wasn’t. I focused more on the things I love and put in 100 percent. I worried less about the tasks that bored me, performance review consequences be damned. When I did that, a lot of things fell into place and I had more career success than ever before.

So why the relapse?

Lately, there have been serious challenges at work and with my extended family. As the challenges started to arise, I dove headlong into dealing with them with the gusto I’ve had in more recent years.

But the challenges were too big and numerous. Without thinking, I let myself get sucked in deeper and deeper. I got so absorbed in the problems around me that I forgot an old lesson: The more you try to fix things, the more likely you are to just make them worse.

I’m not advocating selfishness. It’s absolutely right to want to do the best job you can at work. It’s absolutely right to try being a blessing to those around you. But there comes a point where certain situations are bigger than your ability to change things. You can play a part, but you can’t fix everything on your own.

Now that I’m aware again, I have to address the next challenge: remembering how to stop.

screaming face with empty eye sockets