Fizzy Pop Whoosh, or Why I'm Going to Celebrate

For the past 14 months, I’ve been in training, in a cohort, or both, and sometimes all at the same time. It’s exhausting work, but necessary and needed.

And then, it came, an email notification that with those magical words, “Congratulations!”

I’m often asked how I got from there (a technical writer for engineering teams) to where I am now (coach, mentor, speaker, <insert favorite noun here>). And the answer is simple: a whole lot of very hard work. And a lot of very expensive training that I go out of my way to practice and to use. But the answer goes deeper than that. I am here because my past experiences forged the woman you see before you. Who I am now is because of what I survived.

But I get ahead of myself, so let me back up a bit.

In 2013, my dad had a stroke. Up until the morning of that stroke, he had a thriving veterinary practice in southern Montana. Rather than watch everything my parents had worked for over the past 40 years slide away, I pulled double-duty for a couple of years, working for IBM in Texas while managing the family vet practice in Montana. I crawled through financial records, hired staff, learned to market and advertise, remembered calving cycles and breeding cycles, and screwed up a whole lot. That experience, however, laid the groundwork for me thinking that I could have my own business. I learned that I had the tenacity and drive if I wanted to apply those skills for myself.

• Lesson learned: I could have my own business. My options were greater than using my time and talent for another company.

2015 was a doozy of a year. We had just gotten the vet clinic leased when I rolled in with my own diagnosis of inflammatory breast cancer. Things didn’t improve from there. I spent the next 18 months in chemotherapy, radiation, and in three fairly brutal surgeries. When I wasn’t in the infusion room or the surgery table, our house was trying to kill us. That year alone, we had a major leak under the floor, the HVAC system died, and we learned that we would have to have our house pinned to keep it from sliding off the foundation. And then, one month after returning from what I still view as the scariest surgery of my life, I was part of a mass workforce reduction. It was a crap year, yes, but at some point you just have a boob voyage party (which I really did, inviting all of my girlfriends) and laugh at everything. I always knew that my job was to survive the year and move forward.

• Lesson learned: grit. And I’ve got more of it than just about anyone.

I began the coactive coach training in August of 2019. Every month, August thru December, I drove from Austin to Denver for a three-day training cycle. 2019 wound down with another large workforce reduction. This time, however, I hadn’t even left the building before I began thinking that I was going into business for myself. I knew that I had the experience and the grit, and all that remained was opportunity. If the universe was opening the door for me, this time I was going through it.

• Lesson learned: audacity. And never let a crisis go to waste.

2020 began in Tanzania, a failed attempt to summit Kilimanjaro, and the full-fledged launch of my own coaching practice just as the world went into lockdown. Then, in March, I began the six-month certification cohort for coactive coaching, which culminated in oral exams that I am just now celebrating. I’ve spent this unorthodox year receiving tough feedback from supervisors about my own judgement and curiosity, learning about selling my own coaching and consulting services, and fumbling through setting up global coaching initiatives. I also learned about taxes, why relationships with accountants and bankers are important, and that I miss being able to have breakfast with friends.

• Lesson learned: humility. And when you think you’ve leaned in as far as you need to, lean a lot further. And then some more.

I spoke with my own coach the day I received my good news. She asked all kinds of good questions, helping me to process and to fully experience this joy, and she also asked what I planned to do next. “ORSC,” I said, “and that integral facilitation work, and probably an ORSC cohort. I feel like this coactive certification is just the first stop on my way up an entirely new mountain.” We laughed and agreed. True, my idea of celebration is a bit different than what people might expect. My big expenditures this year have been training, training, and more training, and 2021 looks to be more of the same. And I’m okay with that.

As an agile coach, I often talk with teams about celebrating the small wins. Story estimation was more consistent within the team. Scrum masters exhibited better in-the-moment teaching capabilities. The facilitation of the strategy workshop exercise resulted in greater alignment and focus for the executive team. As a coactive coach, I ask questions like “What was the learning you want to take from this?” or “What do you need to celebrate?” But celebrating me? Yeah….not so much. I’d rather that someone else be in that spotlight.

Except now. If I’m honest, I’m (over)due a good year, although who would have thought that 2020 might be it. And tomorrow, tomorrow I launch my own product, my very first. Magnesium 2020, my group coaching initiative for people that want transformational clarity and change, goes live tomorrow. This is the first time I’ve ever launched something that was all me, all my work. This is the gift of 2020: going all in on me.

If the past few years have taught me anything, it is that I don’t know what tomorrow or next week or next year will bring, and that is why I’m going to rejoice in this day. Fizzy pop whoosh? Darn right. I’m ready. Let’s do more of this.