THE UNEXPECTED
As a financial services provider, my job is to help my clients manage risk and prepare for the unexpected. I’ve spent countless career hours advising my clients on how to protect their wealth, structure their assets, protect their legacy, plan for their eventual demise, properly transition their business, etc. It’s in my DNA at this stage of my profession (and life) to constantly be thinking about the unexpected. Because when you’re prepared, there is little to worry over and you can focus on the emotion rather than mitigate a shitty circumstance. You can plan for just about anything in life (the Gospel, as spoken by a practitioner of the OCD way). You can organize and you can look long-term and strategically implement just about anything to help thwart off problems. However, with all of the planning in the world taking place, you can never predict how you will feel when the moment actually occurs.
For the past ten years of my 17-year career, I’ve guided people through these major life changes and while some of my own advice prepared me for most of what I’ve experienced in the past year, most of my advice didn’t prepare me for how I would feel following the life event. In the past 12 months I’ve experienced divorce, the death of a parent, and now I am at the threshold of hell waiting for my job role to terminate upon the merger of my company with another.
And the adage that the best things happen unexpectedly really is true.
That sounds funny following what I just said, right?
I’m here to debunk the myth that when shitty things happen that you must only focus on the negative of the situation. Initially, I think it’s okay to embrace the overall “suck factor” that major life changes bring; it makes you human. But in the aftershock of the initial event, you are left with two choices: to let it break you or let it make you.
I was prepared to leave my marriage. By the time 2016 was realized and after two years of mental and physical absence, I was adequately equipped to walk away knowing it was the right decision for me and my son. Sure, the initial onset of mentally and emotionally giving up on it in 2015 felt strange; it was no longer about me and more about preservation of the family unit. But once I realized that my family unit was comprised of me and my son and the life I had worked to create for him, it no longer seemed to make sense to stay in a marriage that was self-serving for one.
I’m not afraid to admit my shortcomings inside of my marriage either.
What I learned about myself was that I wasn’t the best verbal communicator—I’ve always been better on paper or in non-verbal situations when inside of a romantic relationship with someone. (Which seems odd considering that anyone who knows me knows that I am not bashful about sharing my feelings or opinions or making a point when necessary). However, I often felt like sometimes the best defense was to keep matters to myself because I never felt heard or appreciated from the very beginning. But rather than cry over the death of my marriage, I chose to view it as a learning opportunity. I began to study the nature of people inside of a relationship with more depth than before. It allowed me an opportunity to really understand myself more—my strengths and my weaknesses. To see the value of true compatibility with someone. To wholly understand the need for effective communication rather than blaming the other person. What it means to be accountable to yourself inside of a romantic relationship. What it means to give without expectation and still maintain my personal boundaries. And the greatest lesson I took with me was that I was deserving of the type of love I was capable of offering to another person. Despite my imperfections, the right person would understand me and appreciate me regardless of my eccentricities. And that one day I would meet the right person with whom I could share my life rather than let the relationship expectations dictate my life.
It was on the coattails of this realization that the unexpected EF5 struck: my mother died at the age of 59, just two days after my birthday. I have always been cognizant as an only child that I would one day have to face the death of my parents. And while I knew this would inevitably happen, nothing in the world prepares you for having this life event realized. It truly is a total loss. Even in spite of having a tumultuous relationship with my mother, I never fully knew or embraced all of the times that were potentially the last moments I would have with her. Following her death last August I began to run through all of those moments I could have acted differently or chosen differently. The horrible things I said about her and to her at times. All of the times I should have called her back when she would call. All of the times I said I would stop by to see her but would change my mind. The list was endless. Regret. All of the doubts I began to feel for not doing a better job as a daughter.
I remember sitting on my kitchen floor about a month after she died, deep in to my second bottle of wine, listening to some gut-wrenching songs on my iPod. My heart and my head were full of this contempt of my behavior toward her, especially in the previous decade. It was then that I had the realization that if I continued to think this way, and continued to analyze all of the things I should have said or should have done, that I was going to dishonor her memory and her role as my mother. It was in this intricate moment of grief that I remembered all of the things she did for me—that despite my haughtiness at times she still loved me with such dedicated concentration, the way a mother can only love her child—and I remembered how significant my role would be in serving my son in the same manner. So I made the decision in this moment of extreme loss to begin living each day as though it were my last, the way she would have wanted me to keep living. I knew then that in order for me to honor her as my mother that I had to do this because it is what she would have expected me to do. She was always so proud of my strength and tenacity and approach to life. If I gave up on these things in this moment of remorse, I would be giving up on what she held so dear with respect to me. In spite of how awful I was toward her at times, I never lost sight of the fact that she was and will always be the one who heard my heartbeat before anyone else and she knew me better than most ever will.
In the months following both of these life events, I grew more personally than I ever have before. I’m thankful for those moments because without them I wouldn’t be where I am today. I’m still not perfect, but I will never give up on my quest to work hard. I will never be perfect, but I will wake up every day with a sense of purpose and a sense of dedication to the day—not the person I want to be 10 years from today. I will never know every thing, but I will never give up on learning new things and growing.
And just when you think things are starting to settle down, the universe will often remind you of the need to continue growing…you know, like having your company announce that your job role is being eliminated.
So if I can offer any lessons to anyone these days it would be these: just when you think things are going to settle down, the universe will always throw another monkey wrench at you while riding your bicycle on the path to utopia. So abandon perfection; it’s not real. Quit looking at Facebook wishing your life was like someone else’s; you’re only getting a glimpse of a moment of happiness. Pay attention to the little things; they are often the biggest indicator that something amazing will happen. Pay attention to people and listen to them. Be open to possibilities because you never know the end result. Wake up every morning with the thought that you can reinvent yourself, even if the day before was your worst one yet. Quit over-planning everything because a toddler or "adultyness" will inevitably napalm the best laid plans. Love and invest in those who mirror your soul and embrace all you are without judgment. Give these people the same in return because tomorrow isn’t promised and you never know how deep of an impact you may be offering. Always trust your instincts; it's your body's way of telling you it's time to keep moving.
And just when you get comfortable again, the unexpected will happen and it may be the greatest love, lesson, or surprise of your life so pay attention.
-BWT
“To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.”