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Oh honey…

I recently had my first experience in having my own intern, which was educational for (I hope) both of us.  This was a young woman who had been interested in volunteering with my organization, but since she was in school, we agreed to call it an internship.  I was thrilled to have help!  Running all marketing and communications for an organization on your own can be a lot some days.  Most days.  So I was excited.

My intern was very quiet but enthusiastic.  As she was planning to be around for a while, I created a curriculum and outcomes that we would be working toward, which would encompass a wide range of communications skills and duties.

About a month into the internship, I asked her to help me with making follow-up calls to businesses and community partners from whom we were seeking donations.  This did not turn out to be her strong suit.  The day after her first attempt (during which I was on hand to help,) I received an email from her stating that making phone calls was not the kind of experience she was looking for. She continued by saying that she plans to go into event/advertising and felt that doing the social media posts was a better use of her time.  We weren’t paying her or anything, so that was fine.  I was happy to let her work on what she wanted.

I had also asked her to outline some of her career goals so that I could make sure the experience she was receiving lined up.  She plans to become a business owner, doing events and advertising for herself and her business.

Another month or two into the internship she decided she didn’t have enough time and resigned.

So that was that saga.  The point of this post however, is this: Oh honey.  It’s cute you think your life is going to go as planned.

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My senior year of high school, I knew I was going to be a French teacher.  I went to college for Political Science.  I knew was going to be a lobbyist and live in DC.

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Yeah, didn’t use that degree either.

I graduated and went to grad school for Religious Studies.  I knew I was going to be a professor.  So I went and got a Master’s with the intention to get a PhD.  Due to academic burnout and a lack of funding, that didn’t happen either.  Then I got an MBA in Human Resources and knew that was going to be my career.  It’s been three years now and I have zero intention of going into Human Resources.  This may sound a bit haphazard, but it really came down to taking the opportunities that presented themselves.  I love where I ended up, but I didn’t specifically plan or prepare for it.

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Dressing up as Professor Trelawney does not help you predict the future

I was able to take the opportunities that came along because I said yes to a variety of experiences and opportunities before that.  My haphazard education allowed me to develop an ease in writing and an ability to speak competently and confidently to a wide variety of people.  My varied job experiences (camp counselor, ice cream scooper, dance teacher, preschool teacher, child care worker, hotel front desk worker, volunteer coordinator, cafeteria worker, bank teller, admin assistant) each taught me something different, and I’m grateful for all of it. Even working as a bank teller for Wells Fargo, which wasn’t stellar, taught me that I truly hate sales.  But it also taught me how to be salesperson, a skill that has come in handy in other (more ethical) ways.

So, dear intern, I would encourage you to reconsider next time you turn down the opportunity for experience, even (especially) one that takes you out of your comfort zone.  Do you imagine you will never need to call a stranger and ask them for something?  I can tell you right now that running events and advertising involve a lot of cold contacts.  Experience is experience.  You never know when you will need it. You’d be surprised what kinds of skills might come in handy.   Life will most likely not go according to your plan, not exactly.  I hope that life goes so much better than you could have ever planned for, and that you have been open to all the things that will prepare you for it, despite never knowing  precisely where you’re heading.

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Marathon Motivation

I might be too happy to run a marathon.  Yes, I think that might be the issue.

I’m registered to run my second marathon in October, the Twin Cities Medtronic.  I ran the Chicago marathon back in 2015 and frankly, training went a lot better that time.

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My dad checking on me at mile 13 of the Chicago Marathon

I was also in a very different place in my life three years ago.  My husband and I had been separated for a few months, I was living by myself for the first time in my life, and I was doing a lot of work on who I was and who I wanted to be.

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I named him Rexacoricofallapatorius.  I get loopy when I run.

Getting up to run at 5:30am every morning seemed to come naturally at the time.  Running was wonderful therapy, gave me time to think, time to escape.  I got to explore Minneapolis in a new way as I ran all over town.  I named a metal dinosaur in a yard along my route.  I was pretty fond of the big fella.  Running was something that was purely and wholly mine.  It was healthy, it made me feel better, and it reminded me I could do more than I believed was possible.  Running helped me to heal so that when my husband and I reunited, I could be a support to him through his healing.

This time around, I am incandescently happy most of the time.  Overwhelmingly content.  I love my work and what I do.  I love the volunteer work I do.  I have great friends that I love to spend time with, and my relationship with my husband is better than I ever could have imagined.  So what the heck do I need to run for?  Yeah yeah, it’s good for me, cardio, fitness, blah blah.  A marathon seems like a bit much.  What is actually keeping me going this time around is who I’m running for.

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A CAP Client and her son coming home for the first time

I’m running as a charity athlete for the CAP Agency, the organization that I work for.  I’m running to raise money so that CAP can continue to help people in poverty find their way out.  My life is pretty darn good.  Other people face obstacles every day that I cannot possibly comprehend.  What I can do is run.  I’m working to raise just $1000.  It isn’t really that much.  But $1000 is enough to house a previously homeless family for a month.  It is enough to feed a family, to provide emergency childcare to mothers escaping domestic violence, to provide meal for six home bound seniors for a year.  The good that can come from this marathon will impact the lives of people in need right here at home.

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I think that’s more than enough to make me get off the couch.

To donate to my fundraiser, go to gofundme.com/capmarathon.  No matter the amount, your donation makes a difference.  Thank you.

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Finding My Magic

Last winter, my dear sweet husband started trying to teach me to play the trumpet.  He played in high school and college and it was and still is a big part of his identity.  I had fun learning the basics, he had fun teaching me, and it made for some very nice date nights.  We eventually moved on to other things.

What struck me at the time and what has stayed with me is the way in which my husband relates to music.  When he listens to music, he hears it in a very different way than I do.  It hits him on a different level than it does me.  I enjoy music.  He understands music.  Hearing him talk about and play music is almost like a kind of magic.  It is something beyond my understanding.

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My husband the trumpet player

My dad is a brilliant scientist and thinker.  He is creative and curious about the world in a way that defies categorization.  The way my dad sees the world and understands the science behind it, and the math behind that science, is to me a kind of magic.

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My dad the scientist

My mom has loved photography for most of her life.  She is very modest about it, but she has an ability to see pictures that others would miss.  Her understanding of light and lines, and her ability to capture them, is a kind of magic.

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One of my mom’s photos

I didn’t feel that I had any particular magic of my own.  There were things I was good at, but nothing that came so easily to me that it felt like magic.  And that was that.  I didn’t think much more about it for the last year or so.

Then last week, I published my piece about becoming a grown-up and had more than one person ask me how I write like that.  I had no answer for them.  I just write.  Words come easily to me and flow easily from me.  It brings me peace and calms my mind.  I am able to write honestly and without second-guessing.

And it struck me that maybe I do have a magic of my own.  Writing might be my magic. This is not to say that I think I am a brilliant writer or about to change the world with something I write.  But the ease with which I am able to write apparently strikes others as a kind of magic, in the sense that I use the word.

I know music and math and writing and photography are all things that can be learned. Magic involves learning. The magic is in that thing that lights you up. Once you find the thing that lights you up, you need to learn and cultivate it.

Magic isn’t something you just have and that’s that. It takes work and dedication. Not just learning how to do your bit of magic, but dedication to actually doing it. Your magic doesn’t do you or the world any good if you never actually do it. If you love music and love to make music, but stop making it, then you’re neglecting your magic. I love to write. It inspires and sustains me. But only if I actually take the time to write.

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In Elizabeth Gilbert’s “Big Magic,” she discusses the idea of “permission slips.”  You do not need to wait for someone to give you permission to be creative, to cultivate and enjoy your magic.  You do not have to wait for a life or world changing idea or project to come along.  You have permission already.  You do not need to wait for it.  You do not need to be the greatest or most original.  There is no requirement upon your creativity and magic except that you give it a means of expression.  There is an exchange in a song from “Sunday in the Park with George” by Steven Sondheim that goes,

[GEORGE] I’ve nothing to say

[DOT] You have many things

[GEORGE] Well, nothing that’s not been said

[DOT] Said by you, though. George.

I love that exchange.  Don’t worry so much about being the best or being original.  Worry is not helpful in creativity.  Your magic is yours, and yours alone.  It is good enough and original enough simply because it is yours.  There has never been anything quite like it and never will be again.  Isn’t that amazing?  Figure out what your magic is.  You have one.  It could be dance or fixing cars or running or doing makeup or computer programming or invention or painting or gardening.  If it brings you joy and lights you up, it is your magic.  You do not need to explain or justify it to anyone.  Learn all you can.  Cultivate and practice it.  Give it room to move and be.

For me, the hard part of my magic isn’t the writing, it’s taking the breath and finding the courage to share it with the world. I’ve always written. It’s the sharing that’s new.  I hope that as you discover your magic, you will also discover the courage to share it.  The world could use a little more magic, I think.

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Wait, when did I become an adult?

If you google “impostor syndrome,” you get a page full of results saying that everyone deals with this and suggestions for combating it.  This is also what comes up when you google “not quite impostor syndrome,” which is what I did this morning.  I don’t know a term for the way I feel.  Impostor syndrome is defined as “individuals who are marked by an inability to internalize their accomplishments and a persistent fear of being exposed as a ‘fraud'” (according to Wikipedia.)  Which a lot of people do struggle with.  But that’s not what I’ve been feeling.  I don’t doubt that I am qualified for the work that I am doing.  I am proud of and deeply attached to my accomplishments.  The work I do and the results I see give me a lot of satisfaction and a feeling of purpose.  But I don’t have any idea how I got here.

There are days I feel like I woke up in someone else’s life. A grown-up’s life.  And I don’t know how it happened.  When did I become someone with a career?  With meaningful work?  With opinions and thoughts that other people care about?  When did I become a peer and not just some kid who works here?  It bewilders me.

I began thinking about this a few weeks ago when I took a meeting with a new marketing coordinator for a local transportation company.  She was looking for ways to partner to serve people with transportation challenges in our area.  The meeting was interesting and some good ideas were thrown around.  But then I mentioned a few projects I had worked on and she suddenly started taking notes.  She asked me for ideas and I was able to give them to her.  I was able to share resources with her that she had never heard of.  I left that meeting feeling for the first time like I had been a mentor to someone.  It was surreal.

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The HR director at my organization is someone that I get along with really well.  I often go sit in her office and we chat.  And she asks me how I would handle difficult situations between employees and listens when I answer!  She has told me that she considers us mutual mentors.  I love this.  I love being taken seriously.  I have no idea when this happened.

When I get together with my friends, we talk about work and our homes and financial woes.  We also talk about our relationships like we always have, but it is no longer the drama of dating.  It is the quiet and everyday drama of marriage and in-laws and bosses and coworkers.  Last Christmas I was talking mortgages with my little brother.  When did this happen?

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My little brother (1995)

As it always does, writing helps me to process.  As I have been writing this, I began thinking about when this change started to sink in.  I think it was about two years ago that I began to actually internalize the change.  My life went through a huge upheaval two years ago.  When the dust settled, a lot of my old patterns and even my old sense of self had fallen away.  Been shattered, really.  And thank god.  They weren’t healthy.  But what remained was the person I was supposed to be in the first place.  The person I had always been but hid behind ditzy flirtatiousness, extroverted chattiness, and never-ending cheerfulness.  I was happy, but I was only superficially me.  I wasn’t joyful, and I wasn’t content.  I am now.

I allow others to see more fully the person I want to be and am trying every day to realize more fully.  The responsible, intelligent, sarcastic, serious-minded, still cheerful, clever, and hopefully kind woman I was intended to be.  I think that is what people have begun to respond to.  I take myself seriously and treat myself like an adult now.  Only took 30 years.  Others are then able to do the same.

I’m not done yet, of course.  I’m only 30 and I think maybe have only just begun to see what I can do.

Years ago, I met a nun named Sister Peggy.  She was one of the most remarkable people I have ever met.  She was in her 70’s and had lived an incredible life dedicated to God and to serving others.  I could have sat at her feet and learned from her for the rest of my life and been content.  She told the group of us that were with her that day that at 70-something, she was still not fully herself.  Still not fully “Peggy.”  I think I begin to understand her.  She was still just beginning to see what she could do.  I hope I keep that same feeling of exploration and expectation.

I wasn’t expecting this piece to be quite so serious.  Funny how these things happen.  I don’t know what you believe about God and the universe and everything, but for me, I believe that we were created with limitless gifts.  I look forward to the continual realization of these gifts in myself and others. Thanks for reading along with me as I figure this out.

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