Embracing the Work/Life Pendulum

Make hay while the sun shines. (A quote attributed to medieval English farmers)

This one is for the self-employed and the small business owners — these are a lot of my people.

It was jarring recently, when surfing past my own profile on LinkedIn, to see that I’d been self-employed for 26 years.

There have times I’ve been jealous of people with a more regular work schedule than my own. Monday through Friday, out the door and back with a consistent rhythm.

These days, I’m envious of those who are retired, having planned and saved and spent and invested their pennies thoughtfully, balancing living life fully and reaping the rewards of their wisdom, self-restraint and hard work.

For me, work/life balance has always been an elusive unicorn, a myth really, particularly since I’ve been self-employed <yikes!> for more than half of my adult life.

The first several years of my life as a consultant was focused on classroom safety training. No one wanted to schedule safety training during the summer, so those months were slow, my calendar a barren stretch of blank days with nothing booked. A downswing.

At that time, my nieces were toddlers, and my brother was keeping the in-ground pool at his house –affectionately tagged “my pool” because I’m that sort of annoying sister– thoughtfully maintained. There I was, with idle time galore, and lots of time to spend with my sister-in-law, Jackie, and the kids, in that glorious pool, during the magnificent summers that WNY offered.

Pool time, yes. But with a little trepidation, maybe more than a little. Was this the beginning of the end? Was my business tanking before my very eyes? While I splashed and sunbathed and tossed plastic rings into the pool for my nieces to dive and collect?

It took nearly a decade — yes, I’m the slowest of studies — to relax into my summers’ almost-off downswing. It became a predictable thing, finally.

The pendulum would swing to hay-making time, weeks of back to back travel, where it seemed I was only home on weekends to do paperwork and invoicing, unpacking and laundry and re-packing, to hit the road again on Sunday evening or Monday morning.

Saying no didn’t feel like an option. The rest of my life was squeezed in the spaces between my clients’ needs.

I’m not sure I ever really understood the slight thrum of anxiety that I felt whenever I wasn’t overly busy. My husband, Tom, has a similar vibration. What we both have in common? A childhood where our dads were suddenly laid off from good-paying jobs. We both felt acutely the lack of financial security that resonated quietly, or not so quietly, in our homes. Never again, I suspect we both vowed, knowingly or not.

(Or maybe we were just wired that way. A matter of nature versus nurture, if you will.)

For me, downtime has always been horse time, and endurance riding has the added bonus of rewarding steady and focused legging up, with the post-competition rest and recovery time. That oscillation seemed to work well with my work/life pendulum. Business downswing, focus on conditioning and competing. Business upswing, oh look, my horses are getting some much needed rest time.

For Tom, downtime always meant more work, projects around the house, things to fix, a house and yard and barn to maintain. Between Buffalo Bills’ and Danny’s football games, of course.

Now, as we look down the road to retirement, it was obvious that horses would figure prominently in mine. Tom, on the other hand, had to actually think about what he’d do with all of his time. (Don’t laugh. The struggle is real.)

Since I started my eLearning business nearly a decade ago, the whole venture has a different vibe. It’s no longer just about me, earning income as a consultant. Now it’s about a whole team of people who I admire and respect and rely on who have their own work/life pendulum swinging, marking their ‘busy’ and ‘not so busy’ time. I do my best to manage their level of project demands, checking in, communicating, celebrating new projects and new clients, not just for the business, but for all of us.

It had been so busy for so long, growing and growing, that I kept saying it couldn’t possibly continue forever. And it didn’t. Last year was on the slower side, which simply meant steady. A predictable downswing. Emotionally, I swung too. Between my old “is this the beginning of the end?” scarcity-based mindset and the mantras I’d learned by meditating–

What if this is unfolding exactly as it was meant to?

I propagated plants. I became just slightly obsessed with the wild creatures who come to our bird feeders and fox squirrels and bluebird houses, and just how many fledglings our little private sanctuary could generate. I trimmed hooves and rode and saw friends and family, and cooked and started focusing on strength training again.

I wrote “ENOUGH!” on an index card and taped it to my external monitor. On some days I believed it. Other days I shook the trees for new projects, reaching out to potential new clients, knowing that’s part of the entrepreneurial gig. Most sharks need to swim just to keep breathing. Having a business feels like being a shark, swimming, swimming, swimming.

There was still that thrum. That anxiety that will always crave security, will look for the disaster coming around each blind corner. That little voice that asked if my comments to my team about “feeling the avalanche of work coming” for all of us was starting to feel like forced optimism.

Tom, who could not be a better partner for such insecure moments, would bust out his Excel spreadsheets, help me crunch numbers, align our budget with a ‘new normal’ should things get tight. He’d shake his head, watching me ride the rollercoaster. “I had no idea what it was like to be in business, to ride this wave.” Just hearing that made it all okay.

It is a ride indeed.

I texted a friend in a similar situation as we commiserated:

Owning a Business: The Best Worst Gig Ever.

And yet. I was starting to truly embrace the downswing, finding a rhythm, beginning to imagine retirement someday. Seeing myself tending gardens, feeding birds, some day having the time to learn the song of a cardinal from a chickadee from a house finch. Giddily looking forward to mowing time, and dragging pastures. Actually buying books to read.

 

And then the upswing. Inevitable. Fated. Right there, hiding behind the curtain, while I enjoyed the breather I’d gotten during the downswing.

Be careful what you wish for.

I am not complaining. I’m giggling a little inside. It is precisely the level of intensity I crave. I love what I do. What could possibly be better than fixing a dilemma for a client that they don’t have the time or resources to fix themselves? Typically in a hurry. Often the messiest of problems. With a talented team curated to do just that.

But I’m reaping the reward of that quieter time. Carving out time for the Important Things, reminding myself they differ from the Urgent Things.

Riding. Time with family and friends. Motorcycle rides with Tom. Endurance rides with my most special people. Walking with the dogs; daily, always, rain or shine or recently, bundled up in all the winter gear from my former life.

 

 

I laugh and roll my eyes at what I jettison from my day when work is in full-on upswing. Dog walks? Never. Riding time carved out with a friend? Rarely. Side planks? Yes, ‘forgotten’ in my squeezed-in workout. Cooking? Often. Tom cheerfully fends for himself.

 

We met with my longtime financial planner and friend about retirement a couple of weekends ago. Had we been saving enough? Were we living too indulgently? Both of us are the type to save money but not averse to a toy or two –motorcycle, horse trailer, trucks, anyone?– we both held our breath as Bob told us the age he thought we’d be able to retire.

Okay, got it. Objectively, it is a reasonable number. It is conservative by design, neither of us wishing to bank on an overly optimistic view of the financial future. Both of us planning to live, really live, for a long time.

Then something happened in my brain.

Immediately I pictured that little ETA on the bottom of the GPS when I’m on a road trip. So many road trips. Work, fun, heading north/south to see family, hauling a horse. A bit of a game, always, driving back and forth, here and there. Displayed, updating as I hit a rest area, or stop for fuel, or drive through Charlotte at just the right time to avoid traffic.

Can we beat this date-of-retirement ETA?

Can this business grow just enough for me to squeeze in all the good stuff AND get us to that retirement date sooner?

Will I be able to continue to embrace that back-and-forth swing so I can jump off like a ten year old girl, at its apex, and stick the landing?

Here, hold my beer!

Cheers!