Moving up the ladder

A few years back I was a single mom working my way through a successful career, gaining notoriety and recognition, receiving honors, awards, and traveling.  I was even recruited to teach and serve on a variety of industry panels of experts.  

I loved the feeling of becoming a force, but soon, there was corporate pressure to take on more responsibility. In my industry that meant moving, plain and simple. It’s how everyone came up through the ranks. And after all, as a first-generation college graduate with a so-called fancy job, I’d been groomed since grade school to be a successful leader. A proud product of the industrial age. 

Trouble is, I have a deep respect for my sense of place. I dearly loved my home base, where everyone has a nickname and a story to tell. I’ve always been truly grateful for my life so the thought of moving away was not easy. I’d done it before and it was hard to leave that familiar place where everybody knows your name. My parents had never ventured more than 50 miles from home in their whole life. I was in a comfortable place surrounded by family helping me raise my daughter. Things were pretty good. 

Despite all that, I had an ever-growing case of FOMO gnawing inside. 

Knock knock, who’s there? A terrific job offer, that’s who. Naturally it was in a city 1000 miles away. Big sigh. In order to keep advancing in my career, I would have to move. Or, should I?   

Moving meant taking my young daughter away from the only family she’d ever known and starting over. On the flip side, I’d visited the target city a year earlier and absolutely loved it. A beautiful place nestled in the Rockies full of creatives, artists, cowboy poets and horses. Be still my heart. It checked all my boxes and with all the stars seemingly aligned I wondered if I’d ever get a chance like this again. The mountains called me – perhaps it was a New sense of place. 

Still, it was an unknown place and I’d be there with no support and a small daughter with some challenging disabilities. Could I handle all this by myself? 

Weighing the pros and cons of family or career was one of the hardest things ever. Do I follow my head or my heart? After sleepless nights and many agonizing miles on the treadmill, I decided. Yup, I made the logical decision and accepted the offer. 

Once the decision was made, things took off like a rocket. I found a place to live, ending up on a charming street in a great neighborhood filled with hoo-doos and a small creek out back called Dancing Horse. A coincidence?  

I was earning good money - bonuses, stock options, and investment opportunities. It was the image of perfection. Climbing the ladder of success.  

Climbing, though is hard work, and in no time, I found myself in this crazy stressful lifestyle, commuting for hours playing mom, dad, friend, bread winner, teacher, carpenter, electrician, realtor, dishwasher and dog catcher. By the end of the day, my energy was drained. Plus, instead of being a top contributor I found myself forced to play corporate politics, and dealing with the after-effects of internal power struggles.  

I was exhausted trying to keep up. What happened? Hadn’t I done everything right? I was a model employee. But at what cost? I’d sacrificed any real freedom choosing instead a version of meaningless status and position in a dying industry. I thought about leaving, but with a dip in the economy, that little voice inside threw up red flags warning me it might be better to suck it up, keep climbing, ride it out. Besides, it was too hard to leave. Until that is, I was unceremoniously pushed out. Sorry. Next?   

I’d hit a ceiling alright, but it wasn’t made of glass. Apparently, ladders can be replaced. Feeling abandoned and duped by the system, my big takeaway was that in the end, it was my choice.  I was a sell-out to my own values, turning the other way, time and again.  In search of more.

So, now here I was. Too disgusted and too old to continue playing in that toxic sandbox, I took some time to mourn my losses and lick my wounds. Then, I set my sights on figuring out what was next. And, putting that ladder away in the shed.  

It occurred to me that maybe this new place was … a gift? Get true to myself. Re-discover my voice. The voice that used to be full of drive and purpose, creativity and joy. Free up my inner artist to play again while using what I’d learned to serve others. Focus on giving back, helping one another. 

I think I’ll trade that ladder for a 5-gallon bucket of paint this time around. I can see the possibilities now…