I just don’t think I’m ready,” shared a close friend as we were discussing her manager’s departure. She didn’t want to put herself forward for her boss’ role. My heart sank. “Why don’t you think you’re ready?” I asked carefully. “I don’t know that I have the experience, and I’m not sure I want that much responsibility,” she explained. She has two children under the age of four, and an already demanding job that puts her back at her desk most nights after the kids are in bed. I get it. And it sounds so familiar.

“Hmm, this is strangely good,” my husband commented around a bite of chicken satay burger. It was a new paleo recipe I’d tried for dinner, no longer paleo with the burger bun added into the mix, but close enough. “How was your day?” I inquired. (We try to have family meals together during the week and catch up as much as our kids will let us get a word in.) “It was ok. I ended up in call after call and felt like I didn’t get anything done,” he responded. “Daddy did nothing today?!” my daughter interjects with a mischievous smile.

A few years ago, as I was planning for a weekend getaway with my husband, I bought a deck of Conversation Cards. The deck description promised “Conversation starters for great relationships.” Great relationships? Yes please! The deck arrived in the mail a few days before our trip, a black box of cards labeled Our Moments. Yes, the marketing was painfully cheesy. And I couldn’t wait to bust them out.

I’m bent over the tiny table in my grandmother’s small assisted living apartment, hungrily slurping pho noodles, when I inhale something unsavory. I look up at my son who has just come through the sliding glass door and taken several steps into the apartment. He’s the source of the stink. My little guy has tracked dog poop all over the carpet, even managing to step on my white sneakers resting by the door. I put down my chopsticks and stop him in his tracks. Chaos ensues.

It’s being called The Great Resignation. Millions of professionals are leaving their jobs, and many more are strongly considering it. Some are just so burnt out that they need a real break. They’re the ones taking a year off to travel the world or live on an exotic beach. Others are disillusioned with the companies they work at for so many reasons and are looking for an employer that more closely aligns with their values. And then there’s my favorite group of professionals taking part in the Big Quit: the ones who have decided to pursue their true passions.

I come from a long line of women who have been betrayed and abandoned. Dramatic, I know. But it’s true. My great grandmother told me stories about her husband showing up after a night out and demanding that she cook both him and his mistress breakfast. At some point, he stopped coming home at all. And good riddance. She raised four children on her own, growing vegetables, tending chickens and taking care of the elderly.

I took special care that morning with the foam roller, making sure my legs were loose and ready to go. My playlist had three hours’ worth of great house music cued up to keep me moving. I laced up my shoes just so and stepped outside. I was ready to run a half marathon.

This was supposed to be our summer of glory. A big, open, expansive summer to catch up on all of the things that we missed from life during the pandemic. We were vaccinated, our loved ones were vaccinated, and we were going to get out and enjoy life. Things were going to feel more normal, even if we didn’t ever expect them to return to the blissfully predictable rhythms of pre-pandemic life.

I connected with a friend recently who shared some of the big challenges she’s facing in the workplace. Maybe you’ve experienced this one. Her boss routinely ignores her ideas and then when her male counterpart makes the same suggestion, her boss perks up and tells him it’s a great idea. Ugh. Unfortunately, my brilliant, talented friend is not alone in this experience.

If you don’t know where you’re going, how are you going to get there?
A coach recently asked me this, as I was in the process of working through my third personal vision statement in as many years. This didn’t use to be an annual activity for me. I created my first vision statement while sitting in a conference room at a Holiday Inn in the Seattle suburbs.

A good friend of mine taught me years ago that it’s ok to speak the truth about being a mom, even when the world tells us that we should make it look effortless. When I had my first child, it felt taboo to talk about all of the dark and deeply frustrating parts of motherhood.

I lost a friend two weeks ago. I knew she was sick. Maybe I should have known she wouldn’t get better. Somehow though, it was a shock to me that this open-hearted, vibrant, creative woman was gone.

I had surgery last week. I hadn’t been under general anesthesia since having my wisdom teeth out in my early 20’s. I remember that experience as being pretty disorienting- a tangle of wires and sensors, an IV going in and a breathing mask going on. I felt disoriented and alone as I slipped under the waves of my own babbling.

I recently started working with a new coach. Of course I have my own coach! My new coach asked me when in my life I’ve felt ecstatic, and how I describe that feeling.

I honeymooned in Bali years ago. In my imagination, it was the most exotic and beautiful place I could visit in celebration of marrying my soulmate. The Bali idea had been planted in my mind more than a decade earlier, as a college student with an old TV that got just a few basic channels.

I’m smack in the middle of one of those tough life transitions that are right up there with changing jobs or getting a divorce: I’m moving. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that I’m moving. I’m also grateful that I’m gainfully self employed and enjoying a happy marriage of 12 years. But moving is Just. So. Hard. The main thing keeping me going: I’m moving into a beautiful house that better accommodates my family’s ever growing during the pandemic space needs.

On a cozy, quiet night just before the holidays, my husband and I nested on the couch with our current favorite bourbon cocktail (a Paper Plane) and a notebook. Well, I had a notebook.

As the year draws to a close, it’s a natural period of reflection on what we accomplished this year and what we want from the next one. Such as, this year, stayed sane through it all.

I leaned intently over the steering wheel, gloved hands gripping both sides as I took the steeped bank of the California Speedway. With the instructor’s voice steady in my headset, I pushed the IROC stock car up into the higher gears. 130 mph, then 140. Steady, keep pace with the car in front of you, don’t freak out. Don’t. Freak. Out!

I was on a video chat with a coaching client recently, deep into a conversation about issues on their team at work. It was an intense conversation and as usual, I was taking a few notes as we talked. I had one of my favorite pens in hand, a black Uniball Vision pen.