Do the hard thing. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s right.

I experienced a rough few weeks at the beginning of summer.  This is part of why I’m glad I write ahead.  I plan for disruption because I rarely know where it’s coming from.  This time, I knew and it still threw me for a loop.

I was in the process of transitioning roles at work.  At the same time, my son was finishing his assignments for 8^thgrade, leading up to a graduation ceremony.  They were both converging to a 24 hour period of change.  Saying “I’ll see you later” to both my team and my son.

During those weeks, I had to make some choices about how I’d show up.  There were the right things to, which I knew would be hard for me personally and professionally.  Avoidance would be easier and more comfortable.  But rarely is the road to who we want to be and how we want to see ourselves comfortable.

A difficult transition

I was trying to figure out how to say goodbye to my team.  We are all moving to new leaders, organizations, and roles.  We’ve been together for 2.5 years and even have a theme song (a first…and won’t be the last).

We knew for a few weeks the day was coming and I was struggling.  I could just write a goodbye email.  There’s precedent for that.  It would be easier, as written words are my jam.  It would also be good for their new leaders, as it would allow folks to face forward without a lot of looks back.

There were all sorts of reasons and ways to transition quietly.  It would have been easier for me, but likely harder for the team.  So quiet was out.  The quickest way to get me to do or not do something is to tell me how it will help or hurt others.  

I wanted to help my team with the change.  I’ve been reading the book “Transitions” and the first step is to acknowledge the loss.  We were all losing a team and theme song and sense of belonging with one another.

To help signal the end of one stage, and help us all look forward into the neutral zone of change, I brought us all together.  There were tears and I felt like an exposed wire.  But I gave them a chance to say goodbye to our team.  Even though it was hard.  Maybe because it was hard.

Because if it’s ever their turn to do the hard thing, as they step forward into the next phase of change, they’ll remember to create space for letting go.  For grief and loss.  And joy and gratitude for what was.

An anxious reunion

Shortly after, it was time to prepare for graduation.  My ex-husband was coming into town to share in the experience.  As soon as I heard there would be a ceremony, I reached out to invite him.  Because if the situation was reversed, I’d want to go and would be hurt to be excluded.

It would be the first time we were coming together for a major life event for our son since the divorce.  The kiddo was anxious about it and didn’t want to pretend we were a whole family in front of others.  I was anxious for a slew of reasons, including how to best support him through it.

The easy answer would have been to avoid it.  However, as the kid of divorced parents, I knew better.  I didn’t include my mother in my wedding due to our troubled history, but she was at my brother’s.  It was as painful and drama-filled as I expected.  I don’t want that for my son.

This is the first of potentially several life events we will need to navigate together.  There are only a few that are our choice – 8^th grade and High School graduations are pretty much it.  After that, it’s up to my son to choose.

Was it uncomfortable?  Yes.  But we got through it.  We took photos, not as a whole family but as one committed to our son and his future.  He now knows we can do this, so he doesn’t have to choose who to include in his college graduation (assuming he goes that route) or a wedding or a birth.  He should never have to choose.

Do the hard thing

From the outside, these hard things might have looked easy.  Of course you met with your folks to help them with the transition.  Of course you co-parented your child through his graduation and took photos.

Yet there is no of course.  There may be very valid reasons not to have the meeting or invite the ex.  I just don’t believe personal feelings of discomfort should be one of them.

The hard things today set the stage for good things in the future.  The team members I said farewell to one day could be on my new team the next.  They will remember, and tell others, of their experience.  My son will have seen his anxiety was manageable, and be more likely to include both of us in major life events.

Discomfort is a small price to invest towards the future.  Future relationships, future outcomes, and the future self we want to be.  So do the hard thing.  Your future self will thank you.