How do you recover?
The first half of 2024 was utterly hellish for me. It started off with a bad three months of business invoicing and revenue, which led to some unwelcomed staff reductions. The economic uncertainty had a negative ripple throughout the organization and several other people ended up leaving that we really couldn’t afford to lose. I had one of my senior leaders resign unexpectedly. Another close friend informed me that their marriage was falling apart and needed to take some extended time off. I had yet another senior leader who I had allowed to transition to a four-day work week the year prior as they were winding down towards retirement; I had to ask them to step in and cover some essential tasks temporarily while we built up enough cash to hire more help. That didn’t go over too well. My business partner took a scheduled, but inconveniently timed, mission trip and had to take an extra week on the back end to recover from COVID. By the time July rolled around, I was completely fried. Fried like that piece of bacon that’s been left in the skillet too long; I was ready to break into pieces with just a little snap. I had spent all my reserves, and no one really cared, because I was just doing my job.
After the July 4th Holiday, I made the decision to take some extended time off in August. Typically, I would give myself and my organization much more time to prepare for a four-week vacation, but I felt like Rocky after fourteen rounds with Apollo. I was sucking wind, I looked terrible, and I was about to hit the mat hard. I found myself browsing vacation rentals in Vermont and I came across something that just called to my soul. It was a small one room cabin sitting just off the banks of a clear water pond. I booked it immediately. The intermittent weeks leading up to my time off were filled with visions of Golden Pond and sweet isolation. I was in the middle of trying to write my first book, and I could see myself enveloped with endless inspiration to make some significant progress. Finally, after a twenty-two- hour drive from Arkansas, I arrived and took a deep breath. Peace at least.
It took me all of ten minutes to unpack my meager provisions. I took a quick lap around the pond and then sat down in the cabin to be still for a moment. And then it hit me. My brain immediately pushed me to start reaching for my phone. I was painfully aware of the lack of television. I was at least a mile from the nearest living soul. How was I going to survive being alone and cutoff from media for an entire week? I didn’t even have air conditioning! I did the only thing I could think to do; I fell asleep. After a nice 12 hours of sleep, I figured I would be ready to write. I opened my laptop, but nothing happened. My soul was giving me nothing. I started to panic, because I knew I would have limited time to be alone and away from the day to day. I calmed myself and decided instead to pick up a book and read. After about an hour I put the book down and just walked out on to the front porch of the cabin. It was stunningly beautiful. It was in that moment that I made a decision that would change the trajectory of my entire vacation: Instead of trying to force my soul to respond, I decided to listen to it instead.
I spent the rest of my time in Vermont just letting my soul lead. My brain on the other hand fought hard to get its fixes of accomplishment, a clean inbox, and sending out a few texts. It was a battle initially, but eventually there was a comforting calm as the anxiety gave way to peace. I got bored, and it was absolutely wonderful. After a week at the cabin, I had accomplished almost nothing of note. I packed up my things and made the drive back to Arkansas feeling lighter than I had in years. The solitude and intentional boredom did more for my soul than any amount of accomplishment could ever provide. It got me to thinking about leadership.
Expectations for leaders are often too high. When I told people about my time in Vermont, they were a little nonplussed and almost sad that I hadn’t written the next great book on leadership or achieved some new powerful vision for the future of our organization. However, I did learn an important truth about recovery during the leadership process. Sometimes the leader just needs to stop. Stop striving, stop achieving, stop trying to have the most awesome vacation, stop trying to lead every single thing in their lives. This was a hard for me. I’m used to the high expectations at work, but I was amazed at how much of it carried over into my time-off. I brought the same expectations for myself from work right into vacation. That’s exactly the thing I needed to get away from.
You’re probably doing this too at some level. Trying to create monumental experiences out of every banal part of your life. You want the interior of your house to be ready for that surprise visit from Joanna Gaines, you want your wardrobe to be trendy, you spend absurd hours keeping up with fleeting social trends, the latest music, and the latest streaming series. You are trying to raise perfect kids, develop a healthy portfolio for retirement, and keep the lawn looking better than the derelict property of your neighbor. What you are really doing is killing the soul of what really makes you a leader.
Take five minutes and consider, do I have any margin in my life for true stillness and solitude? Am I pushing myself to succeed in all parts of my life while my soul is slowly starving to death?
Real recovery for the soul is not going to happen simply because you are away from your desk or work environment. You could take six months off work or relocate across the country, but until you are able to lay down the unrealistic expectations you are carrying around, your soul cannot be nourished. Put the brakes on your brain when you get home at night. Stop filling it with an endless list of projects, self-improvements, playlists, and once-in-a-lifetime getaway experiences. You don’t need any of that to restore your soul, you just need to stop and listen.
