Part 17 - What This Is Not

Dear Addie,

It feels like an eternity ago that we were in our little temporary accommodation. Addie was a little bit upset that she didn’t have the energy to go exploring. She couldn’t go out on the town. Couldn’t have a drink at all. She whimpered, “This isn’t Emily in Paris.”

When we’re lonely there’s nothing to do but wallow in it. We penned ourselves in by bringing the dog, so explorations are a little more limited.

Other key differences here: you can’t have a firearm to protect yourself. Not that you’d want one, unless you stumble onto a homeless person asleep in your entryway. You can’t return expensive items, and even when you can, the best you get is a store credit of equivalent value. People in the hardware store will lie to your face about where a thing is just to have you move on. Then you’re somebody else’s problem.

It feels really bad to be made somebody else’s problem. To be maneuvered in such a way that you know they’re not on the hook. You’re paying the price because they moved you along, but they didn’t do any real work. That feels bad.

And we can do something about it. We can raise our hand and exercise our agency. We can ask for decency. We can bear it when the decency isn’t forthcoming.

We can learn, and improve. And put ourselves on the hook to do better next time. We can stop getting swindled by salespeople. We can stop swindling our employers. We can be the best versions of ourselves.

We can be honest with ourselves about what we want. And what the pathway is to get there. We can vocalize what hurts, how much it hurts, and what we plan to do about it. And when none of that is working, we can seek help.

When we get lied to, and we accept it, we’re culpable. Damn it, I’m tired of being culpable. Mostly I’m tired of screwing up when I’m culpable.

Yet… every engagement is an opportunity to learn and improve. Maybe it was nine straight no’s. The tenth interaction can bring a yes. Maybe it was the 15th bad blog post. The 16th can be good.

Liz says: “If fortune finds you, let it find you hard at work.”

That’s all we can decide. Are we engaged in trying to be better? Are we actively doing the work? Are we checking out and letting others bear the burden (even if that other is a tool)?

Last week I was chatting with my brother and I came up. He said, “somebody has to go to jail. Somebody has to be accountable. While it’s human beings that we’re working for, still, somebody has to be accountable.”

Others are likely to play the victim card, if we allow it. We can absorb that load and do the best we can to make the best contribution we can.

At some point, someone will see that we’re putting ourselves on the line. They might push us over the edge, because in a scarcity mode that’s their only move. But we can take that fall. Others will reach out and catch us. They’ll want us to hold our spot on the edge because they can count on us to do the work there. To hold our spot in the phalanx.

In a group project, it’s never fun to be the one accountable for the deliverable. But someone has to be or we pass the buck all the way down. And when you’re on a group project where everyone is willing to take accountability. Well, that’s when the fun starts.

That begs the question of who you’re accountable to, and why. If it’s your family, are you showing up the way you should? If it’s yourself, are you eating right, drinking enough water, and pursuing craft that lights you up? If it’s your partner, maybe you’re pushing pause on more professional moves to hold space. For work to be “good enough” for a while so life can rotate nicely on other axes.

Maybe you can have it all. The work you want, the family you want, the stuff you want, the time you want. And I’d bet you have to iterate your way there. And the mix is likely to change over time.

But let’s try to bring this back on topic, at least a hair.

There are many things this trip is not. It’s not Emily in Paris, and it’s not a ton of fun right now. It’s a scary-as-all-hell learning adventure that we’re on, together.

So let’s ground in gratitude. Thank you for being a supportive partner. For building with me in grace. For having the strength to drive ahead. For having the strength to admit that, in some ways, this move was a run away from trauma we weren’t sure how to process. For having the courage to also run towards a career opportunity.

Let’s invert away from the things that this is not, and focus on what it is. A chance to build a unique family. A chance to build stories we’ll tell for the rest of our lives. A chance to fall more deeply in love than we were before. To show each other compassion and patience. Far from home. To build a new home. Just us, and Bump, and Bubbas.

The head follows the eyes. The body follows the head. We’ll end up where we’re looking. So, let’s look to a brighter future.

Forever yours,
JT