Change is a'coming!!

It can never be good news when an e-mail arrives from your CEO at 5pm on a Friday night letting you know that this is their last e-mail as CEO and that a new CEO will be starting on Monday!  Sending it out just before the weekend may be a delaying tactic or just a "sod it, not my problem" issue but either way it sent me and my team into a bit of a panic.

 

Why, who, when and more importantly what will this mean for me?  These were the questions running through everyone's heads on Friday night.  Some decided to foretell the unknown over a glass of wine whilst some of us decided that the weekend had started and what was an unknown quantity on Friday would still be there waiting for us on Monday!  I tried to console my team by throwing down a few trite phrases such as "a change is as good as a rest" but they just rang a little hollow.  It got me thinking about change and why it is so hard to embrace it.

 

Change as a verb means to make or become different and as a noun it means an act or process through which something becomes different.  Why does something which we subconsciously seek to do every day frighten us when it smacks us in the face with a big screaming neon sign "CHANGE".  Why is it easy to change your mascara, change your diet, change your evening plans but the thought of a changing jobs. changing hair styles and changing friends is so terrifying?

 

When you are small you cannot wait to change.  Being fourteen was going to be amazing.  I was going to be madly in love with Bros and have incredible eyelashes like the supercool 14 year old who lived next door.  When the big 1 4 cam around I was planning my academic career and wanted to be prime minister!  These were big life changing decisions that I was planning and I could not have been more excited and determined to make them happen. 

 

But thinking back somewhere around my 21st birthday the unknown became less exciting and a little more daunting and it has been a downward spiral ever since.    I no longer became excited about not knowing what was next for me.  It stopped being full of endless possibilities and instead became full of the possibility that it was all going to go wrong.  There was a pervading fear that if I made the wrong choice and changed something it would all be horribly disappointing and I would be foolish and sad.  At what point does the optimism of childhood give way to the fears and self doubt of adulthood?

 

Change that doesn't come from us is scary.  Who wants to relinquish control of their happiness and career to someone else?

NYE 2013.....all change!!! Ding Ding!!

Here it is ... 2014.  Now as a budding writer I have put bum to seat and fingers to keys with a sense that I should be writing something momentous.  Well if not momentous then circumspect, funny, charming, insightful.... Ok!  who am I kidding?

I had actually just re-read a fantastic quote from Neil Gaiman's 2012 / 2013 blog and it made me feel inspired to write a little more.

“I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes.

Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You're doing things you've never done before, and more importantly, you're Doing Something.

So that's my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make New Mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody's ever made before. Don't freeze, don't stop, don't worry that it isn't good enough, or it isn't perfect, whatever it is: art, or love, or work or family or life.

Whatever it is you're scared of doing, Do it.

Make your mistakes, next year and forever.”
― Neil Gaiman

Now I am pretty much guaranteed to make mistakes on a regular basis but are they really the mistakes that count? Are they the really big life changing, challenging ones or the silly mistakes we make out of panic and worry and general lack of caffeine?  If I am being honest (and if I cannot be honest here where can I) the mistakes of 2013 were motivated by fear and personal weakness.  So I have decided that this coming year I will try new things no matter how scary or daunting, no matter how I may appear to others and that I will be brave to enough to face down those who try to put me off.

I have made the first start and accepted a promotion to Manager of a new division for the consultancy that I work with. Now this is not the first management post I have been offered over the last few years but this offer came with a genuine push from my mentor who highlighted the point that I was a very confident consultant who takes on all and sundry but that my capacity to affect real change was limited by my refusal to take responsibility.  My last senior management post and promotion sparked briefly to life and then sputtered out like a dimly lit candle during the period following my father's death.  

I have been scared to try again as the thought of that intense pressure to perform and achieve made me feel naive and weak.  However, it is a new year and I owe it to myself and my passion for my role to try and succeed. I also need to accept the fact that my bossy yet engaging nature may just make me perfect for this role.  

So that changes myself but what will I do to change my world?  I think that they are the same thing or certainly feed into each other so for a start I will make resolutions that I actually intend to keep.  I will make sure that I listen to my partner no matter how tired I am, I will play with my dogs every day, I will stop spending money like it is water and I will make a complete commitment to losing weight. Only a few there but all hugely important to changing me and my world.

I hope that you will have a chance to join me in 2014 as I try so very hard to succeed but whether they are mistakes or not.... I will run at them as fast and as hard as I can and enjoy the fallout and remember that I am lucky every day to have the chance to choose to make mistakes when so many have no choice at all.

Sunday Mornings and Soccer Moms

Sunday mornings for me normally involve as much sleep as possible, boiled egg on toast and rooting through Sky Planner to decide what will hold my attention as I emerge from my Saturday night cocoon.  This Sunday was a little different as I was asked by my rather charming 6 year old nephew to cheer on at the sidelines of his first football game of the season. Now there are not many people who could get me up at 7.30am on a Sunday morning but the pleas of my tongue tangled nephew clearly did the job.  After a 45 minute drive to pick him up, a pit stop for a McMuffin and a coffee for my hungover brother, we arrived at a small field in the middle of nowhere and I was given an introduction to the world of Sunday Soccer Moms!

Now I'll be honest here and admit that I was expecting a high turnout of dads in tracksuit bottoms and Sunday stubble, giving lots of advice to their respective mini-me and the resulting back slapping and arguments with the referee.  What I was not prepared for were the ferocious mums on the sidelines, their in-depth knowledge of the off-side rule and strategy! 

After being introduced to two serious looking ladies in wellies, padded jackets (in team colours of course!) and being offered coffee or tea from flasks the size of a bucket, I was welcomed into the collective on the understanding that I was not to utter the phrase "it's only a game" one more time.  After we all cooed over the under 7's in their kits which came down to their knees and in some cases ankles, it was all down to business.  These ladies knew exactly what they wanted and it was a WIN.  They ran through last season's stats and highlights, just so I knew what to look for over the next forty minutes.  I was treated to a review of Saturday's training session and some pointers on how I could help my nephew focus because he is apparently too friendly!

As the whistle blew and the game started I found myself having a little inner chuckle at the pithy comments and barbed glances being directed at the other teams mummy cheerleaders.  I glanced around to see where my lovable rogue of a nephew was waiting on the sub bench, and was pleasantly surprised to see him chatting amicably with the opposition subs and setting up a mini pitch so that they could all play together.  My nephew's general amiability and love of, well, just about everyone, then manifested itself on the pitch as he waved to the other team's goalkeeper, gave them a thumbs up every time that they scored and even shared his juice at half time with his new "friends".

My brother and I were in hysterics but soon realised that we were getting tutted at for not taking the game seriously.  I made myself shout and cheer at a suitable decibel level but deep down I was incredibly proud of my nephew's attitude and ability to make friends.  He is also a pretty good football player for a six-year old in shorts the size of a double duvet.  After winning 6-2, yes I did keep track of the score, we rushed back to the car to avoid the rain and blustery wind which had been lurking all morning.  I had offered a lift to one of my nephew's team mates as his brother and my step-nephew (complicated) were playing in an under-12 match in the next village.  Listening to them chattering and doing their own review of the match, I realised just how important these games were for their confidence and social skills.  My nephew has a terrible stammer at times but after scoring a goal and getting a big hug from the man of the match he was talking with confidence and excitement.  

I think I have been converted to the Sunday morning football run and when my favourite player tucked his hand in mine and asked me to come to his next game "because I make him play better because I smile at him", I only hesitated for a second and then made a promise to be there. I guess the soccer mums will have to make room in their gang for a soccer auntie.

It began at the end.

Two weeks ago I turned 34, which I know is not a momentous age.  It isn't a special age or even a particularly interesting one.  Nothing dramatic happened on the day and it is not one that is typically associated with exciting events or life's milestones.  But for me it kick started a sense of purpose and woke up an inner voice that had always been there, whispering in the background, if only I would stop and listen.  I would like to say at this point that my inner voice certainly doesn't take on the form of a goddess and have silly remarks like "Oh My" on a playback loop and I also have no intention of adding to the newest genre of "mummy porn".  (Very imaginative label I am sure!)

I have always wanted to write and be read but never really pushed myself to do it.  I never felt grown up enough. I never felt that the life I had lived had given me enough life experience to allow me to write of others lives and feelings with authenticity.  As an avid reader I know the crushing disappointment of picking up the latest "bestseller" and finding it hollow and two-dimensional. 

I was also scared that I would fail.  I am for the record what is commonly termed an "over-achiever", or "know-it-all" as my little sister would say. The thought of creating something and opening myself up to criticism was frightening and daunting. 

I decided that blogging would be a start, a foray if you like into the unknown, and a way to marshal my thoughts and experiences. 

So, where to start.....well you could say that it began with an ending.  I went from receiving a love that was "bigger than the sky" to having that same sky crumble and fall down around me. At the age of 27, my father passed away suddenly leaving my family and I floating adrift like jetsam after a flood.  We navigated the whirls and eddies of decision making in the wake of his death like bedraggled victims of an apocalyptic event.  Vacant stares, frightened faces and an inability to do little more than just survive, than just put one foot in front of the other, than just wake up, when the longest sleep seemed more appealing.

I drifted for nearly a year, unable to leave a job that I hated, too blinkered to fight for my relationship and unwilling to help myself, until I had an encounter with a counsellor that changed the course that my life was taking.  It took an hour, just one hour for a small elderly lady, an open fire and a big box of tissues as well as some very direct questions, to make me realise that I had to change something and that it had to be immediate.  I resigned from a director role and made a decision to join a West End firm as a consultant and began working with a team of people whom I hope you will become familiar with over the coming months as their larger than life personalities colour the pages of this blog as they have coloured my life since meeting them.

So here I am six years later with a whole lot of history in between (I plan to share but not all at once!) and still something is missing.  Writing these last few paragraphs has shown me that I may be on the way to finding out what that is.  If you want to join me as I spend the next year writing, creating, sharing and shaping my memories into stories I would love your company, advice and the chance to hear stories of your own.

For now it is goodnight and I hope that you will wish me luck!

WestEndGirl79