Recently Dan spent much of a Sunday afternoon whining about
why he wouldn’t be able to go to a two-hour exercise class at 4:00. I reached the threshold of listening to
his whining before I took out a paper bag. With a wide-tipped marker I wrote Bag of Excuses on the outside and handed it to him. “Here, take
this along and hand it to the instructors. I’m sure they’ll care.” Conversation
over, we moved on with the afternoon, went to class to get beat up and left
feeling a sense of accomplishment.
Let’s face it, we all have a bag of excuses we bring out on
occasion. Lately I’ve been rummaging through mine as I find myself being coaxed
down the path of a potential Big Decision.
And what is it that drives big decisions? For me, especially at this time in my
life, it’s the hope that something will be better. But is it? I’m torn, and
suspect it’s located in the bottom of that bag—the excuse “I’ve matured beyond
thinking that different is better. It’s not, it's just different.” I gotta call bullshit on myself.
Different has at least a 50% chance of being better. And when you factor in a
climate that gets a lot less snow, you are talking a passing grade* no matter
what. Except the friends. We’d miss the friends. But that’s a blog for another
day.
Like most folks I spend 50-60+ hours a week in gainful
employment. Lately, I’ve been
experiencing “cognitive dissonance” with my job. I believe that the core of
what I do to make money also makes a difference in the lives of many others. My
job provides critical information that helps my employer improve the workplace
and connect in meaningful ways with thousands of employees. And
yet, as I complete the tasks to support this lofty goal, I feel like I was left
behind. Apparently I’ve achieved a level of competence that does not require
feedback; I’m fine when left to my own devices and decisions. The irony of the
situation is not lost on me.
Nature abhors a vacuum. (As do the dog-faced boys, but
again, another blog…) So does the brain. Lack of feedback from people I imagine
should care leaves the brain to fill the blanks. In my case, the space is
filled, at first with a sense of confidence, followed closely by self doubt,
then the feeling of being an annoyance to others. This became the ideal incubator for
someone to slip in with an offer of something better. As I walk down this new
path and explain all the things I can do the encouragement I’m getting is a
like wonder drug. Yes, I am that good. (Note that I left out the F'ing word
between “that” and “good.”)
Ultimately, should this come to fruition, it would require
Dan and I to pack up and move across the country. Which is the point of this
blog – figuring out how to pack up and move to a whole new place. But I wasn’t
planning to do that this year. I expected to move years from now--not anytime
soon. While I’m not faced with any offer or decision just yet, this has been a
wake-up call. Everything I pull out of my bag of excuses challenges me and asks if I’m ready to make a
move. As I examine my bag of excuses I’m not sure how or if they will be
different five years from now. “I won’t know anyone.” “It will be a strange
city.” Blah. Blah blah.
I am reminded of a recent Dan story—on a field visit Dan
didn’t push hard enough on a pipe installation, and a young construction
employee came up, took the pipe out of his hands and slammed it home. “Put your
purse down, Sally” was his comment as he walked away. Dan was happy to
know his folks were comfortable enough to tease him, and has used this as a
metaphor for making sure we are pushing ourselves as we look ahead.
Put that purse/bag down, Sally. Making a move would be a
tremendous mental challenge. Dan will need to stay behind to sell the house.
What about the dogs? What about the parents? The cars? The refrigerators? All my dishes!?! God,
that stupid bag of excuses is getting heavy! Time to set it down and walk
away…Sally. We’ll see.
*In Grad school I was silly enough to call Dan to complain
about my first A- on an test. The phone went dead, and I thought we’d
been disconnected. When I called back, Dan said he’d hung up. He still had flat
spots on his knees from falling down and thanking God for a C-. Hearing someone
whine about an A- was abhorrent. Message received.
