Ode to my Maple

There are so many things I could write about today that are related to my work and research. I mean, we are certainly living in extraordinary times. People and organizations have been forced to reinvent working routines and solutions in ways they never even considered before. For me this is, of course, fascinating because organizations that have, for example, said that working offsite is impossible or impractical have had to try it and now realize that maybe it’s not such a bad thing after all. For someone like me who has seen how one size fits all really isn’t the best solution – not everything works for everyone nor for all types of work – this is of course satisfying to see. Hopefully we’ll take some of the things we’ve learned during this pandemic with us and see more individualized solutions in the future.

And then there’s my book on men opting out, I could write about that. I could let you know that I have now basically completely the first draft of the manuscript, which is absolutely mind-blowing for me. It is something I have been working on for so long and now it is finally coming together. But I don’t feel like writing about that either. I want to write about the maple tree that stands in my garden.

These weeks of social distancing have, for me, meant slowing down. In a way it feels crazy that it’s only been a few weeks, it feels more like months. A lot has happened. I’m definitely one of the lucky ones. I live in a house with a garden, close to a forest where it is safe to be. I have work that I can do from home and I have teenagers who have managed their distance schooling very well. So apart from the anxiety of following all the horrendous news from around the world and worrying about the safety and health of loved ones, this social distancing thing really hasn’t been that bad for me.

One of the wonderful things I have experienced, thanks to the lockdown, is the spring. I am at home more than I’ve ever been before and I go out into the garden to just get out of the house and get some fresh air. I don’t have anywhere else to be so I take time taking everything in and I just love it. I have witnessed all the birds and flowers and trees come alive after the winter: cranes circling in big flocks over our house; more tiny spring flower than I have ever known existed, and the buds of our maple bursting open before my eyes.

I have always loved my maple. I can see some of its branches from my bedroom window and I often just lie there in my bed looking it at it as I contemplate whatever it is I’m thinking about at that particular time. I love it all year around; all the colors in the fall, the bare branches against the sky that are sometimes covered in snow or frost in the winder, the buds and the delicate, yellow flowers that bloom in spring, and the big leafy leaves that provide shade in the summer. This spring I noticed how beautiful the big, velvety, brown buds were for the first time; it felt weird that I hadn’t really noticed them before. On one particularly warm and sunny day last week, as I was standing under the tree admiring the millions of buds, they started bursting open before my eyes.

Because there are no airplanes in the sky at the moment and hardly any cars on the road, our garden is quiet. And as I was standing there, I could hear the tiny snapping sounds of the bud bursts, click click click click all around me in the air.

It was amazing. I feel honored to have been included in this beautiful event. Thank you, Maple!

Create, create, create!

I follow Elizabeth Gilbert on Instagram. You know who I mean, the author of best-sellers like Eat, Pray, Love. Although I have to admit I have never read Eat, Pray, Love, nor did I see the movie. But I have read a book by her titled The Last American Man. I have a beat-up copy that I bought at some flea market once when I was starting out on my research project on men opting out. At the time, I devoured any books about men I could get my hands on of any genre in order to gain insights into the strange and mysterious world of masculinities (I’m kidding about the strange and mysterious… sort of 😉 ).

Anyway, The Last American Man is a biography, or maybe rather an ethnographic account of the somewhat legendary Eustace Conway’s life and existence (no I hadn’t heard of him either until I read the book). And this might not sound like the most exciting read, but it was really an excellent book. The way Gilbert approached the whole situation and her style of writing was funny, entertaining, insightful, thoughtful and just so good. It was certainly a good read, and I became curious about this best-selling author that I of course knew of but who hadn’t really piqued my interest before. When things become hugely popular and everyone is talking about them and you’re constantly told that you have to read, see, try, do something, I get a little bit put off and then I just don’t. I know, I can’t really explain it, but there you go…

So after that, I stumbled across Gilbert’s Instagram account @elizabeth_gilbert_writer and I have to say, I really enjoy her posts. Again, what a funny, generous, positive, insightful and sensitive person. The other day she was interviewed live on Instagram, which I watched part of, and something she said just resonated with me. I can’t remember it exactly word for word, so I might get this wrong, but what it in essence was, was that we all have a natural drive – a need – to just create, create, create. Not just people, but also nature, nature of course creates too. It includes everything from creating life, creating order where there is none, creating art, creating beauty, creating meaning, creating connections, creating music… It’s what we do; we create, create, create.

I don’t know if I’m able to convey this in a way that makes any sense, but it just made such perfect sense to me as I was sitting there in my kitchen on a Sunday evening, preparing myself for another week of social distancing and distance schooling (my kids) and (what feels like) a million meals and absolutely maddening amounts of dirty dishes. Ironically, or perhaps not, this feels like one of the most creative periods of my life, which kind of sounds funny since I’m not painting nearly as much as I usually do.

About three weeks ago, like for so many others, my calendar was wiped clean. Everything I had planned, events, talks, silk painting courses, my exhibition… everything was either canceled or postponed. That is generally bad news for entrepreneurs (and I know there are so many entrepreneurs out there really struggling right now), but in a way it was a blessing in disguise, because I finally had the time and space I so badly needed to actually finish writing my book. And I am making great progress – I’m planning on having my first draft of my manuscript done by the end of April (I know can you believe it?! I barely can).

That is of course very creative to say the least. And I want to point out to those of you who were thinking you were going to work on that book you always dreamed of writing during the Corona lockdown but haven’t been able to get started: this isn’t that. There is so much to deal with both practically and emotionally during this time that just managing to get what has to be done from one day to another is more than enough. It really is, so don’t beat yourself up about it. This is my day job, what I am supposed to be doing but have been struggling with due to a lack of time. It’s not a dream I’m finally making happen (although in a way it’s that too, but that’s a long story).

But that’s just my book. I think for all of us, this is a time when we really have to be creative and do things differently, and I think people are rising to the occasion in a way they probably never thought they had in them.

I’m not doing the heroic work that health care workers are doing, or my kid’s teachers who are absolutely amazing. For me it has entailed being creative in the kitchen and cooking a variety of meals like never before. It has meant walks in my nearby forest, which have become so important to me. It has meant activities with my teens. And for the past couple of days it has meant sewing a whole bunch of face masks for family members who need them.* It has meant doing things I have never done before, and it has meant doing them in a way I have never done before. All of a sudden, I’m at home and I have time on my hands because I have nowhere to be. It means that I allow things to take the time they take. I do them slowly and perhaps not surprisingly, doing things slowly makes the process both more enjoyable and more meaningful.

As I sit here, and wait this situation out, I’m not dreaming of all the things I could be doing instead. I’m just here, and I create, create, create. I create so much that I have little creativity and energy left to paint. But that’s okay. My upcoming exhibition has been postponed, so I’ll have all the time in the world to do that once my book is written.

The point is, we all create, and whether you have been defined as a creative person or not has nothing to do with it. So, in that spirit, remember: create, create, create! And while you’re doing so, stay safe and well!

 

*If you want to make a face mask of your own, you will find a free pattern here: https://www.craftpassion.com/face-mask-sewing-pattern/

 

Lost in Socklot

You’re probably wondering what that means, ‘lost in Socklot’. I’ll tell you, but I have to backtrack a little first.

There is a small town on the coast of Finland where my grandparents used to live. I spent all my childhood Christmases in this town. I also spent other holidays there but the Christmas magic is what will forever stand out in my mind, because my family was especially good at creating magic. It of course helped that there was always snow, but it also involved things like carol-singing, home-made wool socks, and imaginary elf sightings as they rushed between homes in a terrible hurry to get everything done in time for Christmas. I remember the sweet, juicy mandarins my grandmother always kept in a bowl on the coffee table. Even the dog loved them and would appear in a flash the instant you pressed your thumb into the fruit to break the peel.

My grandparents passed away many years ago, but I go back once in a while and drive past their house, although not very often. However, this fall I found myself visiting twice in the span of just a month. Not only that, I went in a professional capacity – which was a first for me – and in a strange way it felt like things kind of came full circle. You see, as a little a girl, I dreamed of working in this small town when I grew up, although my dream involved the cash register of the local grocery store. Pushing all those buttons just seemed like so much fun.

Alas, there were no cash registers involved when the opportunity to go there for work arose. I went to give two talks, and while I was there, my cousin came up with the idea of exhibiting my paintings in her daughter’s wonderful café. Said and done; we set a date for the vernissage, and that was how I ended up spending a whirlwind weekend not just hanging an exhibition and hosting a vernissage in the same day, but also driving about 1000 km (back and forth, but never-the-less) to do so.

I never planned on doing it alone, but in the last minute something came up and there I was. I set out on a Saturday morning, drove by my Art Place to pick up my paintings, and then set out North, belting duets with Billy Joel as I drove to make the time pass more quickly. Fast forward to the afternoon, and I arrive at the café somewhat stiff, with a huge craving for coffee, lugging a bunch of silk paintings. Well it was a café so the coffee thing was easily fixed… but it was a café so it was also filled with café guests nursing their own coffees, and blocking the walls onto which I wanted to hang my paintings.

Those of you who are artists know just how difficult and stressful hanging an exhibition can be. There I sat among the guests and every time someone got up to leave, I pounced before my access to that particular section of the wall got blocked again by the next set of guests. Standing on tables and chairs, I hung a couple of paintings as quickly as possible and prayed I got it right on the first try and wouldn’t have to do it all again.

Eventually the paintings were hung – not perfectly but well enough – and I rushed to my hotel to change for the vernissage. The event in itself was a success, although somewhat exhausting for an extroverted introvert like me, especially considering I was hosting it all alone away from home. Plus, exhibiting your art is soul-baringly personal, clichéd as it may sound. But guests came and it was wonderful to see everyone, it really was.

After the vernissage, a lot of flowers, and many warm congratulatory hugs, I happily made my way back to my hotel to get a good night’s sleep before my long drive back. But I didn’t really sleep, not after all that excitement, so the next day, I woke up quite tired, albeit to a sparkly white winter wonderland.

After breakfast, I got back into my car and started driving towards a small village called Socklot to visit the painting studio of an artist I had had the pleasure of meeting during one of my talks. I was really looking forward to this visit and I had a fantastic time. We hit it off and spent a couple of hours looking at his work, discussing techniques, and talking about my work… He gave me two sketches, which I treasure dearly, and I left with a full heart and a terrible itch to paint.

I got back in my car again and finally headed home. I was in the countryside and assumed I would find my way back to the main road without too much trouble. However, being a bit of a city person who navigates with the help of city blocks and sidewalks, the country roads soon led my astray and before long I realized I was lost. Well, not really lost, I mean I have a GPS on my phone so I wasn’t worried. But I realized I had driven in the wrong direction and was now even further away from the main road, and my drive home was getting longer by the minute.

Just as I had this realization, my phone rang and it was my husband. I hit the green receiver button and declared, “I’m lost in Socklot.”

It all felt a bit like a Kaurismäki movie, but ‘lost in Socklot’ also kind of said it all. It sort of summed up my life for the past few months. I was in a good place, doing amazing things. I was quite tired and a little lost, but not really because I knew the general direction I wanted to go in, plus I had a GPS to help me navigate. So I was lost but not really.

And I have been doing amazing things for the past few months. I have been setting up the Art Place of my dreams. I have met with interesting people, made new friends, experienced so many firsts. I have been doing exactly what I want to be doing, although at the same time it has been overwhelming and exhausting, not to mention scary. I have been out of my comfort zone in more ways than I can count, but I can also say that I have been living my dream. Sometimes I’ve felt a bit lost, but in a safe way because I have experience to fall back on and supportive people around me. I know the general direction I want to go in and I’ve always had a map or GPS of sorts at hand.

Sometime in October I started to realize that I can’t do it all. For my own sanity and wellbeing, I needed to focus on what was really important and what I simply had to get done. For the first time in five years, I didn’t have the energy nor the inspiration to update my blog. From being a weekly column, it became a monthly thing, although now two months have already passed since my last post. I started writing a new post at least twice before Christmas to wish you all a happy holiday season, but I just never managed to finish it.

But that is life, right? We can’t always do it all and we have to be kind to ourselves. I wanted to give you a life sign though and let you know that I’m still here and that I’m not done blogging. The Opting Out Blog has been such an important part of my own opting out and in process, and a place where I not only write about my research but can also air my thoughts on other related topics. I believe I still have a lot left to say, and I will, although at the moment it may not be weekly or even bimonthly.

But I’ll keep you posted and I’ll keep posting, and I hope you will continue reading. Your comments and reactions still inspire me more than I can explain and I wish you all the best for the new year!

Quality of life

I recently had the honor and pleasure of being a prereader of an amazing book that is yet to be published. I can’t really tell you very much about it and I won’t give anything away, but there was one thing in particular that I read that struck a chord with me and that I have thought about ever since. It is about being present in the moment and the effect that has on our wellbeing.

The thing is that life can get hectic. We’re pretty much expected to be all over the place at the same time all the time. Time accelerates and for many this can cause a feeling of life spinning out of control. In fact, research has shown that doing many things at the same time – everyday life for most of us – intensifies time to the point that we actually feel like we have less time. So, by doing many things at the same time, we’re actually not saving time, but maybe rather wasting it, or at least feeling like we’re running out of it.

Well, in this book I mentioned, I read about the importance of slowing down, being in the moment and noticing our surroundings. I know this is important; research tells us it not only calms us, but also helps us remember who we are and what we’re doing. It’s about allowing ourselves time for reflection (whether or not it’s done purposefully or just by being in the moment), which, in turn, helps us create coherent narratives about ourselves and our lives. And the ability to create these coherent narratives is essential for our wellbeing.

So, this passage really spoke to me, but not only because of the parallels in my research. I have actually also experienced this and it has made a great difference in my life.

I’ve always been one to notice interesting colors, shapes and patterns in my surroundings. I think it’s the artist in me. But for the longest time, I didn’t really allow myself the time to actually slow down enough to really see what was around me. I didn’t do this knowingly, I was just constantly on my way somewhere, always in a hurry because I felt I was needed where I wasn’t. I was always feeling guilty about never being in any one place enough at one time. I was never at work enough, never at home enough, never anywhere enough.

Well, when I started painting again a few years ago, I also started allowing myself the space to notice my surroundings for inspiration. Gradually I started seeing things more and more. The way the wind tickles the leaves of the trees. Or how the sun shines through those leaves on a sunny October day, making them look like a million sources of light. Or how they fall and land creating polka dotted paths for us to tread.

And you know what else I have noticed? The more I do this, the more I see the beauty that surrounds me everywhere I go. And the more I do that, the better I feel. It makes me feel happy inside. And it calms me, at least for the short moment in my hectic day when I stop and think, wow, look at that!

So, take that moment. Stop and admire what you see around you, even things that at first might strike you as ugly. Notice how interesting and intricate they may be. Maybe just a tiny detail. And carry that with you as you continue with your day.

Sometimes it is just that simple.

On being authentic and getting things done

When I opened Instagram the other day and started scrolling through my feed, the first thing that popped up was an inspirational quote: “Surround yourself with people who feel like sunshine.”

I scrolled on without giving the quote too much thought and, believe it or not, the very next post was another motivational quote: “Surround yourself with people who are on the same mission as you.”

Being an extraverted introvert, I shuddered at the mere thought of being surrounded, and quickly closed Instagram before I was told to surround myself with yet a third type of people. Don’t get me wrong, I like people, but to be surrounded? No thanks!

Okay, okay, I know these quotes aren’t necessarily meant to be taken literally. And I also know that they have a point, at least the one about people being on the same mission as you. Kenieshiear Czetty, the wise, talented, and absolutely charming person behind The Opting Out Podcast, talks about the importance of finding people who can walk with you on your opting out journey (because not everybody can) and I know that is what that second motivational quote is about. But the first one is a bit problematic I think.

It is as if we, today, feel that happiness is a human right and that anything that hampers our happiness can and should be cut out of our lives, even people. But there is more to life than happiness and only keeping people in it who make us happy (or who feel like sunshine) makes us miss out on having a real life. Because life is not only about happiness, and happiness is not the only important emotion. But not only that, it seems to me it also makes us lose part of our humanity…*

Which leads me to another thing that Kenieshiear said.

Okay, let me backtrack a bit. Kenieshiear found me and my research a few months ago through the internet and in many ways, we are kindred spirits; opting out sisters. We have similar approaches to opting out and last week we spoke for the very first time. During our conversation, she said one thing that I found particularly profound, and that has stayed with me all week.

We were talking about the importance of feeling like you can be yourself, of being authentic, and how many people don’t necessarily feel that they can be themselves at work.

We talked about how we have both reached a point where we just want to be ourselves and if we are “too nice” or “too colorful” for someone or for some organizations, so be it (although to be honest, I don’t think either of us think we are too much of anything).

She talked about how when you are authentic, you are real, and you wear your feelings on the outside. You are honest, you say what you mean, and (here it comes) you get things done.

Now, I didn’t think to ask her what exactly she bases that on, and I definitely want to continue discussing this with her soon, but it really resonated with me.

After my discussion with Kenieshiear, I continued the conversation with my husband. He and I were speculating about why that is, why is it that authenticity leads to getting things done? Is it because when you’re authentic you only say you’ll do things if you really mean to? Or is it because if you’re authentic you don’t have a hidden agenda and you only promise what you know you can and will deliver? Or is it because it’s just easier to know what you will and will not do and can therefore be forthright about it without giving it a second thought?

I’m not sure, but this is something to think about. What do you think?

 

*For more about this see my post ‘The Search for Happiness’ and Barbara Ehrenreich’s book Smile or Die.

Life is like a box of chocolates and other thoughts on blogging, on not being famous, on men and on being complicated or not

It’s true, you never really know what you’re gonna to get. For example, I never know how my blog posts are going to be received. I never know which ones are going to be the popular ones, which ones are going to get a lot of likes, which ones are going to be shared, and which ones are basically going to go unnoticed by most.

I used to try and see the patterns, and sometimes I would think I knew. I would write a blog post and I would feel certain that this one would hit home. And then it didn’t. And the one that I was certain no one was going to read, turned out to be the one that got shared and shared to the point of circling the globe several times over.

But I’ve stopped trying to understand. I know that it depends on so much more than what I write. It depends on much more than whether or not I come up with a catchy title. It depends on things like what day of the week I post, what time of the day I do so, and what time of year it is. And of course, on whether something major is going on in the world that is drawing everyone’s attention.

You know what, I don’t really care. I didn’t start this blog to become wildly successful or famous (To those of you who do want to become wildly famous on social media: a blog like mine with texts on issues that are sometimes hard to digest is probably not the answer…).

I started this blog because I wanted an outlet where I could share my research and my thoughts, and a place where I could write creatively and not be bound by the very rigid rules and standards of academic writing. I don’t want nor need to put energy into trying to market my blog as widely as possible. It’s here if you want to read it, and for as long as it fills some sort of a function for me. Although having said that, I of course love it when people read what I write and treasure every comment and reaction, so feel free to share and to comment! I will respond.

My point is, I’m not going to lose sleep over how many hits my blog is getting.

But back to the box of chocolates. My all-time most popular post, is one I posted a couple of years ago and was certain no one would care about. It gets hits every day from every corner of the world. Sometimes people react, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they like it, sometimes they hate it, and sometimes I get sarcastic comments that I seriously don’t know what to do with since you can’t have a constructive dialogue with sarcasm. This post is about men, but it’s not about putting men down, nor about ridiculing them. It’s about explaining that we are all complex creatures, whatever gender we are. We are complicated but at the same time we are really quite simple in that we are all human. Anyway, you can read it here.

In the meantime, I’m wrapping up my work to go on my summer holiday. My posts may be sparse while I’m off enjoying some well-deserved free time with family, however it will be business as usual again in August (when I will be moving into The Art Place*! See last week’s post!)

Happy summer everyone!

* You can now follow me and my process on Facebook as I set up The Art Place! See The Art Place Finland

Following my heart, but taking my brain with me

I own 48 champagne glasses. You may wonder why. The reason is that after getting my PhD (in Australia) in 2014, I organized a seminar in Finland where I spoke about my research and served sparkling wine to toast my hard-earned degree. The department, where I worked at the time, wasn’t in the university main building and having the catering company in charge of the cafeteria bring champagne glasses over to the next building was surprisingly expensive. Way more expensive than just buying glasses from IKEA. And, having spent the past four and a half years applying for grants to cover tuition, living costs etc., the more affordable version seemed like the way to go.

So here I am, the proud owner of 48 champagne flutes. They have been put to good use. I have used them myself when organizing events, and friends and family have borrowed them on occasion. This spring alone they have been at a wedding and a high-school graduation party. And I tell people not to worry if any should break. God knows I have more than enough, and as you already know, they really weren’t very expensive.

But still, they are special to me. They are symbolic of good things to come.

After I graduated, a friend and I fantasized about what the perfect work place for us would be. I mean, I had just written a PhD on opting out, and I was spending a lot of time thinking about work places, sustainable working cultures, toxic environments, good work routines, and basically just what does and doesn’t work for me personally. My friend and I fantasized about one day having an office together where we would do everything on our own terms. We hadn’t quite figured out what our business would be, but we did know what we wanted and we didn’t want, what practices we did and didn’t appreciate. We dreamed about this fantasy place and I jokingly told her that I already had the champagne glasses for office celebrations.

And so, these 48 glasses, became symbolic of my future – my future office, my future business – a place where I would work with what I love, in a way that I love. I didn’t really know if that was ever realistically going to happen, but the glasses have been a reminder that it could. You never know, right?

Well, let me tell you something. On August 1st, I am moving the 48 glasses into my new place. Take that in for a second, I can hardly believe it myself.

You see, I have a vision. I want to be involved in changing working life as we know it, and I want to bring people into a space that doesn’t look like an office to talk about work. I think we have to be taken out of our usual environments and see alternatives to more effectively challenge our mental models, and that is what I plan to do.

I have three legs that I stand on: research, consulting and painting. I’ve been doing research for the past ten years, but I also have a background in consulting and I want to take my research back to the business world where my findings belong. And then I have my painting. My painting is my passion and it has snowballed into a second job during the past couple of years. It has expanded to the point that I simply need a bigger place to paint, and I figured I could combine my three legs in one space. Not only that, after looking for a place for some time, I have finally found my perfect space and I signed the lease just a couple of weeks ago!

I call it ‘The Art Place’ – a place to paint but also a space for reflection and dialogue. A place to talk about and practice the art of change, of leadership and of reinvention. A place to think about alternative solutions for work and different ways of understanding work in a space that doesn’t look anything like an office. It will look like me and all three parts of me. I will be my space.

When I try to describe to people what it is I’m doing, it’s hard to do in just a few words. Yesterday, on Instagram, I saw a quote that said it all:

“Follow your heart, but take your brain with you.”

That, my friends, is precisely what I’m trying to do. So please stay tuned – more soon as I start setting things up!

Should finding your passion really be your life goal?

“If you don’t know what your passion is, realize that one reason for your existence on Earth is to find it.”

Oprah apparently said this. At least according to Thrive, an Instagram account I follow.

So, what do you think about that? I saw the quote the other day as I was scrolling through my Instagram feed. At the time I paused and reflected over my passions – writing and painting to name two – and felt lucky to have these passions and to also actually be able to make a living off them. Still, something about this quote just bothered me, as motivational one-liners often do. The thing is, we seem to really love these motivational quotes, but the fact is, life just isn’t that simple.

I was a bit surprised that Oprah had said this because she is usually quite insightful and nuanced, and to be honest, I think telling people to dedicate their lives to chasing their passions can be quite problematic.

Well, I scrolled down to the comments section because it’s always interesting to see how other people react, and I was happy to see that many of my fellow Thrive followers were much more pragmatic and nuanced than Oprah on this particular occasion.

One of the main messages from the comments section was that if you don’t have a passion, and maybe not everyone does, that has to be okay too. Because if you tell everyone that they should spend the lives looking for passion that might not be there, it’s “a mindset that can work towards frustration,” as one person put it. Not everyone has a passion, but if they are told that they must find theirs, it invariably sets them up for a feeling of failure, or not being good enough as a person, or not looking hard enough. Or maybe you’re passionate about something mundane that can’t be translated into a successful job? Does that mean your passion isn’t good enough? (No, it doesn’t).

Or maybe all jobs don’t have to be based on passion. Maybe not everyone wants or needs to be passionate about their jobs and that has to be okay too. Or maybe they can’t. Maybe they found a passion and tried pursuing that but then realized that they also needed to afford to live.

You get the gist.

The thing is, I’m all for passion, but I’m not for sweeping generalizations where we forget that the world consists of a multitude of people with different realities, hopes, wants, and needs. I’m all for dreaming and encouraging others to do the same. What I’m not for is one-dimensional motivational quotes that become mantras and that many just can’t live up to.  Life isn’t just about passion, it isn’t just about happiness, it isn’t just about living your dream. It’s so much more, and thank goodness for that!

What is important to you and when do you draw the line?

I had great plans for this blog post. I had a really good idea and I’ve been meaning to write it down for the past week and a half. It’s been almost two and a half weeks since my last post and for a blog where my intention has been to post weekly, that is a pretty long break. Especially since a person I met about half a year ago, whose opinion I really value, said to me after she checked out my blog, “I just have one criticism, I wish you would post more often.” That was a huge compliment, it meant that she really liked my blog. But it also made me feel pressured to actually try and be more active.

So that has been going through my head too, that and this idea that I have been meaning to write. I have just had too much to do, but have still also felt guilty about not getting my act together. Which is ironic, because this is my blog, which I write on my terms, about whatever it is that I want. No one tells what to write, or when or how to write it. This pressure I feel is all me.

Does that sound familiar?

It’s like when my son went from being a baby to being a toddler. One night, I was sitting on the edge of his bed at bedtime, looking at his window thinking that I really need to get him new curtains. He had baby curtains and I somehow had the notion that he needed kid curtains instead. I was sleep deprived, overworked and just overwhelmed in general, but still couldn’t stop thinking about how I really needed to get my act together regarding his curtains. It was eating away at me until I one day realized that the boy doesn’t even know he has curtains. His curtains were not hampering his development or cramping his style in any way, so why was I worrying about this? So I instantly stopped.

This example might seem ridiculous to you, but it is illustrative of how much of the pressure we have we actually inflict on ourselves.

Even at work. Yes, I know that corporate cultures can be very inflexible and stifling and there are certainly pressures that others put on us. But there are also things that we think we have to do or can or cannot do which actually aren’t things anyone has actually expressively said or taken a stand on.

Like the woman I met about a year ago who was working at a male dominated IT company when she went on maternity leave. They wanted her to come back to work earlier than she had planned and participate in meetings, and she wanted to do it too but was worried about how she was going to be able to do so with such a young child. I mean, she couldn’t take the baby with her to work. None of her colleagues had children and they were all male so that was just out of the question. Or was it? She finally realized that no one had actually said she couldn’t bring her baby to work, so she asked if it was okay, and it turned out that it was. She brought the baby with her to the meetings and nobody even blinked.

What she thought was impossible wasn’t.

But back to my blog. As I sat down to finally write it, I realized that I just didn’t have the energy. Writing about what I had planned to write about would have craved pulling out a few books and checking some facts and I have neither the time nor the energy for that right now. And since no one even knows about these plans of mine, much less expects me to write them down, why on Earth am I stressing about this?

When you have too much to do, you need to focus on what’s important. We’re not very good at that in today’s society, but sometimes you just have to draw the line.

We all need down time and the amount of work or pressure we can or should handle is very individual. You can’t compare yourself with other people; just because they can do something in a certain way, doesn’t mean that it works for you.

We have to remember to also take the down time that we need, regardless of what other people are doing, and not feel guilty about it. Because if you don’t take care of you, how are you ever going to be able to accomplish all the things you want to? If you become too exhausted or overwhelmed to carry on, it really isn’t going to help anyone anywhere in any way.

So, take care of yourselves and don’t think you have to do it all. Think about what is really important to you and focus on that instead.

Tell yourself you can and you will

One of the things that my own opting out and in journey has brought me is a whole bunch of firsts. When I opted out of my career in consulting to work on my PhD, I was flung out of my comfort zone as I navigated new worlds and ways of doing things, and it has continued ever since. One reason is of course that whenever you embark on a new profession or way of life, you are bound to do many things for the first time. But another reason is that once you get in the habit of doing new things, the threshold to saying yes to new ideas and opportunities becomes lower. You simply become more open to trying things you never dreamed you would do.

Let me tell you about one of my firsts. A couple of years ago, my son, who has been following my research and the attention it has received from the sidelines, asked me if I could write a book about my research that he could actually understand. My research was just kind of hard to grasp for a ten-year old.

At first, I was just mostly flattered that he was interested in what I do. But I come from a long line of readers and I’ve read more books to my kids than I can count, so the idea of writing something that a ten-year old could read actually felt quite intriguing. It tickled my imagination and I started getting ideas regarding characters and plots, and what I would want the message to be, that is what main thing about my research I would want to convey.

I didn’t get a chance to write any of this down because, of course, like many other things, there just wasn’t time for anything else than what I was already working on. But he kept asking. Every once in a while, he would ask me if I was working on it yet. He was very persistent, so finally I told him yes, I would do it. I mean how do you say no to something like that anyway?

But still I couldn’t seem to find the time and still he kept asking.

So finally, last summer, during my summer holiday on the island, I started working on it. For two weeks I sat at the kitchen table in the sweltering heat as my family went on about their lives around me, and I wrote. I experienced flow like I have never experienced before and I was having so much fun.

After two weeks, I had a story about a girl and a boy dealing with questions of gender, identity, diversity, and the need to do things on terms that work for them. That meant that when I returned to work, I had most of a first draft done. I put in some extra effort; I finished it and edited it with the help of my daughter (for which I am so grateful), and then I let it sit. As with all creative endeavors, this was also one filled with self-doubt, but I tried to ignore that and focus on how much I enjoyed writing it instead, and how attached I had become to these two characters I had created.

Now, during my Christmas break, I finally got it out again, reread it and did some final edits. Although it was scary to say the least, I decided to quickly send it to a publisher before I changed my mind because a fundamental truth is that a text that is never sent never gets published either. Besides, I needed an expert’s opinion. Was I any good?

So that’s what I did. I sent it last week and get this, I got a response after just a few days, which in itself felt like a major accomplishment.

Now I know what you’re thinking. By now you’re thinking it was accepted and that I will soon be the author of a children’s book. I mean I’ve been building the suspense for the last 700 words and why else would I share this with the world? But that isn’t what happened. It was rejected, but since I have made it my mission to share not only my ups but also my downs to give a more accurate picture of what success, or hard work rather, really looks like, I decided to write about it.

Yes, it was rejected and I’m not going to lie, I was disappointed. But it was also a very nice rejection. I got many positive comments, constructive criticism, and encouragement to keep writing. And I was also told I’m welcome to submit a new manuscript in the future.

I’m not sure yet what I’m going to do about the manuscript. I suspect I will keep working on it, although not right now. Unfortunately (or fortunately) I have another book that needs to be written, so maybe next summer when I’m on the island again?

In the meantime, I’m going to read it to my son (who is older now but the story was originally for him so he will just have to deal with it). But also, by writing about this I’m taking this rejection (a nice rejection but nevertheless) and actively choosing how I make it a part of my narrative. Now it’s not just a rejection, it’s a part of the story of how I continue to develop as a writer.

Because we should never underestimate the power of what we tell ourselves. If we tell ourselves that we failed, we will feel like failures; but if we tell ourselves that we can do it, we will. And I can do it, I just need a little bit of practice first.