I’m going to just come out and admit it. My world and my mindset can feel pretty small these days. There are periods where I may not leave my house for two or three days.

I’m a hustler.

Don’t believe me? It’s true. I say yes to just about anything asked of me. I go way above and beyond for the people I care about. I’m the one who can always be counted on to show up and take charge. That’s my hustle.

Several years ago, I was promoted from a Director to a VP at the medical device company I was working for. Following the announcement, there were many warm congratulations from my colleagues. I remember feeling somewhat embarrassed and uncomfortable during these conversations, even though I was very excited about my new role.

I saw a clever yoga t-shirt once. It said “I’m just in it for Shavasana.”  For all non-yogis, this is the pose at the end of yoga class that has you lying flat on your mat with your eyes closed. 

“I just want to throw myself in the garbage, Mama.”

My smart, vibrant seven-year-old daughter was upset and angry with herself. Tears tracked down her hot cheeks as she tensed every part of her face and body.

I was sitting in the backyard in the late afternoon, soaking in the sun after staring at the computer screen all day.  There was a tentative rustling in the bushes. Great, the racoon has decided to resume his squatter status under the deck again.

My family recently and very reluctantly decided to take on a home maintenance project that we’d been putting off for years: the dreaded deck refinishing. Our big, beautiful deck had fallen into disarray, with paint shedding and boards rotting.

I filled my water bottle, pulled out my dusty hiking boots and wooly socks, and packed the snacks. It was a Tuesday morning and I was getting ready for a much-needed bath. A forest bath.

I recently drove from Seattle out to the desert. It’s a long drive across mountain passes, vast stretches of open fields and small scattered towns. After months of feeling like a dog being crate trained, driving across the open, expansive country side felt exhilarating.

I’m a planner. When I decide that I want to achieve something, I map out a plan and go after it. Like when I was in high school and I made a foolproof ten-year plan for career success. Never mind that it went to hell around year six, leaving me with law school debt, no Juris Doctorate, and no new plan. That’s another story.

The COVID-19 pandemic is many things. It can be loss. Loss of livelihood, of education, routines, and tragically, even loss of loved ones. It can be uncertainty. Uncertainty of how to manage the present and of what will happen in the future. The pandemic is also a major disruption, and disruption can be a gift.

Rounding into my eighth week of the pandemic, I’m continuing to reflect on the changes in my behaviors and what I think of them. Perhaps the most visible change is in my personal hygiene. (YES, I’m still showering!)

My mission to become a coach was shaped in phases. There were insights over the years that pointed me to this profession, not all of which were pleasant or very straightforward.

It’s Wednesday morning. My son is sick again and I had just emailed my client to let her know that I wouldn’t be able to facilitate the workshop we had scheduled that morning.