You got this, bitch
And other things I tell myself to keep it all going
Today during my annual shareholder’s meeting for Coalition, I was asked how much fight I have left in me. Fair question given the less-than-stellar report I delivered. There was quite a bit stacked against us between the outdoor industry unraveling, the high cost of living impacting discretionary spending, lack of consumer confidence, a shit snow year, and the Mens™. And my financials reflected all of it.
Have there been moments where I’ve seriously considered walking away from the business I’ve built over the past decade? Absolutely. But there’s plenty that keeps me going. Keeping the scales tipped toward the latter is the goal, and here’s how I do it.
1.
I allow myself to have nice things: rest, play, time with friends, a night out, time in the outdoors. All too often when we’re in the weeds we feel like that’s where we’re supposed to be. If we work harder, everything will sort itself out. But we need time to refuel and refresh. We need time to free up the space in our heads to expand our capacity to work through the difficult things that require our thoughtfulness and intention. It may not be every day, or as long as I would necessarily like to, but I prioritize doing things that keep me from burning out. I block off my mornings to ski, nor will I explain why I’m not free; I’m simply not available. I go to yoga on the weekends when I could be sorting through my disaster of an inbox (currently at 666 unread messages). I cook fancy dinners instead of working 14-hour days. And this is key: I don’t feel guilty about any of it.
2.
When cooking said fancy dinners, I will walk around my kitchen with a wooden spoon in hand and say out loud and loudly, “You’ve got this, bitch. You fucking got this.” And I mean it.
3.
I remind myself about the very difficult things I thought I could not do that I actually did, which included filing for a restraining order when I thought that a man was going to murder me, subsequently filing for bankruptcy to extricate myself from that relationship, leaving a relatively stable job at UC Berkeley because it wasn’t my calling, firing a “co-founder” (parenthesis used liberally), cycling across the continent of Africa, and summitting the second highest peak in Africa with a bully to snowboard the receding Lewis Glacier. Do look back and wish I had done many things differently? Yes. But I am stronger and more resilient even with all of my stumbling.
4.
I become expansive in my community. We believe we have to keep so-called failures to ourselves. I have found the more honest I am with my trusted and dearest friends, I am able to work through the pain, uncertainty, and imposter syndrome in a way I would never be able to do on my own. I laugh with them, I cry, I yell, and I am reminded that I am loved.
5.
I work very hard to define what success is for me. Often that goes against everything we have been sold in our lives—the messaging from our families, our friends, the media, Instatrash™, and society in general. Happiness doesn’t stem from six figures and the accumulation of possessions, and yet if we aren’t on a path to achieve both, we feel inferior. I know my life looks different than most people’s—no children, no spouse, no home, no big paycheck—and I’m at peace with that because…
6.
I practice gratitude. I know that’s super woo, but I have enough and I am enough. I have more material possessions than the global majority. I am not fleeing from Israeli forces. I am relatively healthy. I am alive. I am uniquely me. I can get the fuck over myself and recognize that while my problems are hard for me, in the grand scheme of things, they are insignificant AF.
7.
I experiment. I try not to exist in forever thinking. Experimenting sets reasonable expectations. It opens us up to assessing what works and what doesn’t. It allows for freedom and grace when things don’t go according to plan. Nothing we begin must exist forever in its original form. If it’s an experiment, it’s impossible not to learn and evolve.
8.
I sleep, which is what my body is calling me to do at this moment, so I must say goodbye. Tomorrow is a new day, and sometimes that is all we need to keep on going.