I’m watching big snowflakes fall as I write this, wondering what else will fall–or hit the fan–when I make this confession. Four weeks into the new year I am finding words dancing on my tongue that are not standard issue in the workplace… or in the carpool lane.
I hit the new year conjuring words for creating a life of purpose, understanding the secrets of designing the life you want and creating work-life balance.
My soul is uninspired.
As I write this on a snowy day, I’m checking the clock to see if it’s happy hour somewhere.
There are a million self-anointed life coaches in the world (who don’t have the credentials I paid good money for) who want to unleash my greatest potential. They tell me if I join their email list they’ll share the five habits that will make me famous or the seven daily mantras for wealth consciousness. I’m terrified of being lost in the muddy waters of good intention.
The women I serve are not satisfied with pretty packages of theories, tied with research data, glossy superlatives and rosy promises. Gone are the days when we spray Poo Pourri on the platitudes, pour tea and sit wishing for a fairy to blow stardust on our 9 to 5 jobs and make us happy.
The women I serve don’t want tea.
The Jesus we know announced himself to the world by turning water to wine.
The women I hang out with are turning 40 and 50, looking around at their lives and saying,
“What the duck?”
Only you know they’re NOT saying duck. I only say it because the social media fairies will ban me from your feed if I say it, but you know you’re saying it too.
What the duck? How did I get here?
Where did I fall off the wagon and forget MY LIFE?
How did I end up in a job where I do all the work and someone else gets the Jaguar?
Heck, forget the Jaguar. We’d be happy getting credit for what we create, but no. While we are being “tolerant” and “diverse” there is someone in a dark suit taking credit for our creation.
I’ve been sitting on research data from my own survey trying to make pretty reports out of observations in interviews where I heard that the number one challenge for a woman in the workplace is
…not being taken seriously
…watching men take credit for my ideas
…recovering from betrayal from other women
…losing sleep at night because I’m afraid I won’t make payroll
…or making myself the last priority in my life because there’s just not enough time.
Our tactical priorities are sabotaging our souls!
In the midst of shrinking budgets, manufacturing revenue and walking the tightwire of payroll every month, we are missing the kids’ sports games, late for the school play and secretly trying to text colleagues at work during parent-teacher meetings. Who am I kidding? Did you even go to parent-teacher meetings this year?
42% of us are seeking improvement in areas of balance, purpose, presence and mindset. The truth is all of these are garbage words if we can’t stop playing small. These misty metaphors are meaningless if we keep living in the past, replaying the blooper reel over and over and over.
Many of us work for defective leaders who do stupid things like fire 3,000 people over email (true story). We are trying to legitimately lead at work but we’re out of juice, flailing in the swirling waters of company politics. (You know the definition of politics is many tics).
When folks like me ask if you are living your God-given purpose, you want to say, “What the duck? I can’t even get through my email in a day. Purpose is a four letter word to me.”
We are ducked.
If you are stuck, I can give you a friend’s number. She can help you get unstuck.
If you need a mindset coach, I can give you the number for one of those too.
I can also refer a good branding specialist, wealth mindset consultant, organizational guru and someone who’s rather good with essential oil recommendations.
If you are ducked because the life you’re living is NOT the one you signed up for, I’m the girl who can get you unducked.
My 15-year-old daughter lectures me when words roll off my tongue that rhyme with “duck.” She says people who use profanity are unintelligent, or at the very least are lacking in creativity to access a more expansive vocabulary. I respect her point of view, but I disagree. There is a neurological resonance that happens in my brain when I use certain vowels and syllables together. There’s only one word that can assuage the disassemblage* of my soul. Heck, just doesn’t do it. Not since I turned the corner on 40.
*(Yes, I made up that word.)
Are you ready to get unducked? I’ve developed a new quiz just for you.
(Tee hee hee.)