Military families experience change more often than most. Those that are good at it, learn to accept and go with the flow.  Resistance only heightens the stress and the dizziness of it all.

I know.  I am the mom of a deploying soldier. He left six days ago. Military life truly is a “hurry up and wait” world.  And as a professional in the world of change and transition, I find it particularly fascinating to observe my own behavior and that of friends and family around me.

I am beginning to understand the fundamentals of transition in an even deeper way, as this is our second turn at this experience.  First, the military experience teaches you much about patience in the face of that which you cannot control.  I cannot control that my country chooses to be at war in Afghanistan.  While I can make my personal wishes known in my vote, I am subject to the wishes of all my countrymen.

Second, I cannot control the choices my son makes. He chose to be in the military, and it is a career choice that has served him well.  Though none of us is excited about deployment, I can be proud that his sense of service and duty rises above his personal needs, and he performs his duty.  I, on the other hand, got drafted into this job.

Doesn’t the most profound change often come when we are drafted into it? Whether it is a lay off from a job, the arrival of children, or someone falling ill in the family, drafted we are.  Curve balls like this force us into the best possible opportunities for choosing on purpose.  We work very hard in our family to not wallow and worry about our son.  To worry is human.  But to wallow is giving in to stuckness.  We choose to talk the experience through, to find ways to stay busy (which is why I’m training for a triathlon), and to keep our eye on the ball of living life.

Getting drafted into a change isn’t easy, but the steps to manage it are simple. We launch ourselves into work that is fulfilling, seek to discover what else we can learn from it, and decide to dock in a place that keeps our spirits up and the worries at bay.

Support above all. I tell people about my situation.  It allows me to experience the pride of having others recognize my son’s service, appreciate their gratitude, and talk about the experience in a positive way.  I used to think this was kind of selfish, but I got over myself on that, and decided that it’s OK to put out there what I need during a time like this.

So put yourself out there. Let others know what you’re all about and what you need to survive and thrive.  You’ll be there for them when they need it.

There is a certain social stigma that accompanies intentional solitude.  Many undergraduates cannot translate the concept of eating alone in the presence of meandering thoughts.  It is unnatural, unsocial.  To eat alone or venture unaccompanied provokes judgments of misplacement.

Why do our social circles treat solitude with a sense of disdain? This exigency could be uniquely mine, but I am positive all of us have encountered a peer who doubted our sociability.   Do we re-evaluate our empty table and silence or do we question our friend’s need for social security?  Forget the stigma, I won’t judge.

I cast away inquires concerning my empty dinner table on a regular basis with the belief those who question me have yet to find the bliss of solitude.  Although our ideas occupy an impenetrable tank, our schedules can hinder the need to formulate associations without the threat of interruption.  Sometimes, we need time to recuperate from a poor exam score or plan the upcoming week.

Many times I respond to judgments with, “I run on my own schedule.” During the nights, when I transverse back to my dormitory alone, I take in the serene atmosphere of a fading night.  I cannot share the interpretation with anyone else because few could understand my perspective.  There are times when another social presence would prove an injustice to the moment of self-evaluation.  Like many forms of indulgence, solitude is best served in moderation.

In certain situations we seek the comfort of aloneness.  In other scenarios, we cherish the energy emitted by our close friends; however, never doubt your sanity if you seek solitude.  Run on your own time and your own needs.  One plate of food and an empty table is threatening only to those who lack the confidence.

While we often think it’s toughest to deal with people who are contrary and difficult, truth is the top of the heap in the tough department is those who don’t communicate at all.  Even when we find colleagues to be difficult and hard to work, at least we have some sense of what we’re working with.  When we don’t get a response, though, this is where time wasting and frustration is taken to new heights.

No response at all jangles our nerves and pushes our emotions and our brains into overdrive.  Why didn’t they bother to respond to me?  Am I not worth their time?  What’s really going on?  And then we do it, what all human brains do when they don’t have enough information.  We fill in the blanks, and if we don’t have enough information, we just make it up.  It’s not like we’re trying to conjure up some kind of fabrication, it’s simply that our brain has a need for a full picture, so we use hints, tidbits, partial information, and start to piece it together.

While dealing with noxious people can be challenging, dealing with mystery people is taxing.  We end up working ten times as hard on wasteful pastimes.  If we’re working in overdrive to fill in the blanks, then our emotions start spinning out of control too.  And before we know it, we’re not concentrating on our work, we’re living in the land of imaginary relationships.

Often, getting responses can be out of our control, and we have to learn to manage through the mystery.  But more often than we would like to think, we have the ability to manage non-responsiveness and the mystery world.

One situation is when the people who are being mysterious to us are actually available for discussion, but we don’t approach because we’re afraid, or worse, don’t really want to find out that it’s better than we’d thought.  Because, let’s face it, sometimes we kind of like making demons out of other people so we don’t have to take any responsibility.  But a funny thing happens when we take the first move to remove the mystery.  We find out the other person is struggling too, and wants things to be better.  Just finding this out takes the pressure off.  We don’t have to keep making up things.

Another situation is when we really can’t get to the mystery person.  Then it’s up to us to put the brakes on our own imagination and stop letting ourselves spin out of control.  Challenging, but indeed possible to do.  We have to pay attention to our own thoughts, and be willing to derail ourselves from wasteful, toxic imaginings.

So let’s de-mystify our lives wherever we can, first by facing up to having grown-up talks with people within our reach.  And second, we can have a grown up talk with ourselves about dealing with the life we have and not worrying about things out of our control.

It’s possible, it really is.  After all, who wants to waste their energy and live in mystery all the time.  It’s not very fruitful or fulfilling.  This is the root of choosing on purpose.

The power of a partner is undeniable. Being the social animals we are, humans naturally pair up and team up to get things done.  But partnering is especially important when you are pioneering in new territory and building new things.  It’s why there was a Lewis AND Clark.  Breaking new ground needs extra brain-power, a shoulder to lean on, and someone to bounce ideas off of.

For most of the last two years I have been building a new program on resilience with my partner Rick.  Not only do we have complementary skills, but we are willing to support one another through the product development process—putting up with writer’s block, personal setbacks, and time to let ideas stew.  Though a little slower than we would like (and we get impatient at times), we are realizing that accepting the pace and the environment we are in is actually contributing to the depth and richness of the product we are developing.  After all, resilience requires strength building, as well as making time to absorb the hits we take, recover from them, and renew our commitment to our work or our people.

What’s exceptional about working with the right person is the feeling of undeniable trust and acceptance you feel.  It helps you believe you can conquer the world.  And when you’re building something from scratch, that requires weeks of research, writing, design, and the usual blood, sweat and tears, it’s trust and belief in one another and your cause that gets you through.

We find ourselves setting deadlines, pushing our ideas out there, and when they don’t quite land where we want, helping each other step back and be patient.  There’s a funny relationship between pushing and pulling, surrendering and not grasping.  It might sound counterintuitive to not keep pushing, especially when you’re building a new business.  But we are finding that rather than constantly hunting, which can be forcing something before it’s ready, we are far better served by slowing down and sitting still.  Rather than grasping and clutching, we are looking for the openings, staying tuned to the vibes that resonate to the work we are producing, and trusting that when the time is right, we’ll be ready for the sprint.

It is like being in training when you’re building a new product. You have to stay disciplined, keep up the routine, invest in strengthening, stay prepped for the race.  It’s a new experience, not pushing for the adrenaline rush, but making steady progress.  I don’t think it’s for everyone, but I feel it building an increasing sense of purpose around our new program.

What I know is that trust allows you to survive while you’re in building mode, whether it’s pioneering a new continent or a new way of helping people stay strong and resilient in the 21^st Century.  When the mood swings low, this trust and confidence keeps you going.

So I hope you have a buddy, a partner to share your growing times with — be they growing pains or growth spurts.  It makes all the difference in the world.

I worked on-site with a client team this week that desperately needs change, but is walking through molasses to get there.  Like the image above, change requires the birth of an idea, gears to put it into action, and a clear target to hit.

Sounds so simple, doesn’t it?  But as we’ve said before, simple isn’t easy to do.  I was reminded by this group in particular about how we cling to the past, and have this habit of harkening back to “better days”.  It’s so ironic isn’t it?  The only reason to change is to make things better, but the discipline it takes and the anxiety we produce about it puts us in slow motion.

Hmmm.  What to do about this?  There is clearly no silver bullet, for if there were, it would have received a Nobel Peace Prize by now.  What we do know though, is that finding support, surrounding ourselves with other people who need to go through this too, makes a big difference.

It’s why, when I work with a business group going through change, I always do it in a way that puts them and their conversations at the center.  Sometimes in these situations people need to vent or let out their anger.  Despite this, it never fails that there is at least a 51% trend toward what my clients this week love to call ELMO (enough, let’s move on!).  It seems no matter how much we drag our feet, when we put a whole team of brains together, we get it faster and harder that it’s important to move NOW.

We muck around in the past, figure out what’s really affecting us in the present, and then through a process of finding common ground, pick a place to start that we all agree on, to build a better future.  The process is called Future Search (see info about our work at http://futuresearch.net).

I can’t emphasize enough how important it is to talk this through TOGETHER, and figure out what we want to do TOGETHER.  What I know or you know, or have an opinion about, is just our own (often whiny) perspective.  But something magical happens to that opinion when it is expressed openly in a team, and we then work it together to an agreed upon start.

Now there’s some energy about doing something about the mess we are in.  And sometimes the starting place isn’t what we pictured as a manager, but it doesn’t matter.  Start where the energy is, and it’s more likely that more change will come, and faster.

It’s not so hard to change when everyone decides to get down on the floor and clean up the molasses around their feet, since the guy and gal next them is doing it too.  And amazing, when we all do a little, the path is suddenly much clearer to move ahead.  There’s really something to that old saying, “Many hands make the work light.”

On a request from my friend and piano teacher, Lori, I did a workshop today for moms in my community.  Turns out it was an eye opening experience for all of us.  They got a chance to explore what’s next for them, as they look at transitioning out of the role of full time mom.  And I got a chance to see how much each of us is twentysomething again when we face big change.

Even though I wrote my book Choose on Purpose (for twentysomethings) with twentysomethings in mind, in my heart I knew it applies to all of us.  Even my major reviewer said so, when she commented “Clear ideas for planning and implementing objectives are presented in a fun, accessible format… job seekers of any age would benefit from this book.”

But what you know, as I tell myself and others often, is not necessarily what you do.  Seeing opportunity through someone’s else’s eyes is itself an eye opener.  Much like young people seeking their first life steps, from career finding to partner finding, and location finding to friend finding, looking up ten years after your children’s birth can be a phase full of confusion and bewilderment.

This phase bewilders we think that ten or fifteen more years of life experience should somehow make us “know better.”  Fact is, whether we get comfortable in the routines of college life or first job life, spousal life or parenting life, we’re always twentysomething in spirit when we face a change.

We have trapped ourselves into believing that the only time we “have our whole life ahead of us” is when we are young.  But every time we pick ourselves up, pay attention to the choices we are making, and decide to change, we still have our whole lives in front of us.

I told the story today of my dear friend Mary who got her college degree in her late thirties, then went on for her doctorate in rehabilitation psychology in the tender years of her mid forties. The moms hearing that story today were so encouraged.  How did we manage to make ourselves feel old at thirty-eight?

Never blame anything on menopause or old age, says my wise friend Ginny.  I think we’d best heed that advice, follow Mary’s path of re-inventing ourselves at whatever age, and remember that twentysomething is a state of mind, not a state of chronological age.

Habit busting. The endeavor is arduous considering relapse is a constant possibility.  After successful trips to the gym and continuous study sessions in the library, we tend to assume the old demons have been cleansed.   The exhaustive effort to alter engrained routines leaves us ragged.  Motivation wavers as we consciously press forward to stamp out the restraining habits.

Unfortunately, we hit a wall. A week of gym attendance is cut short by an all-nighter that parches the soul of sleep.  Weeks of rejuvenated church attendance are blotched by a Saturday night of overindulgence.  At this point we accept failure and our motivation is unhinged.  The evils we fought off—sloth, lethargy, apathy—worm their vice back into our daily lives.  But in the hour of disappointment we must remain strong or as the British motto firmly states, “Keep calm and carry on.”

Carrying on the battle against our restraining habits is damn difficult.  Our shaky resolve is suspended when we fall back into the pit of vice.  Sleep is splendid.  The gym is Spartan.  Pizza is delicious.  Iceberg lettuce is tasteless.  Video games are addicting.  Studying is numbing.

When the road to self-actualization becomes treacherous, we jump into the HOV lane.  One driver, no passengers: completely illegal.  And we get an ear-full from our rational mind.  It sparks our motivation and reforms our attention.  Sleep is glorious, but the gym provides results.  Pizza is wonderful, but not in a bikini.  Video games are intense, but studying pays the mortgage.  Passion and logic struggle waist deep in our muddled self-compass in a match of soul defining tug-of-war.

To ease the psychological conflict, we must not remain a spectator.  Drafting a weekly schedule, cementing non-negotiable rules of engagement, and learning to liberally use the word “no” to unjust demands of our time are perfected methods to re-correct productive habits.

Most importantly, we must come to the realization that the war will not be pleasant.  Habits, good or bad, once engrained, are extremely difficult to be excavated.  Bad habits, in particular, can vex and constrain without us knowing the full extent until the subtle problem becomes a curse.  Stay strong and fight on.

A good friend recently wrote an article about fitness for the new year, and she titled it I Go to the Gym. I liked the notion so much, that I’ve stolen her core concept to talk about the first triathlon I’ve signed up to compete in.

The core concept is that once we name a goal, and share it with other people, we bolster our ability to reach our goal.  Not new news, but worth revisiting.  Sometimes we just announce it to ourselves in the mirror, so we’ll have the fortitude to go to the gym today.  And sometimes we tell other people.  “Hey, guess what I’m doing this year?  I signed up to do a triathlon.  Crazy, huh?!”

Whichever it is, the more we say it out loud, the more we believe in our ability to accomplish it.  So I researched online about triathlons before New Year’s Day.  I told my husband, my kids, and a couple of friends I was training for a triathlon.  I had a workout plan, a race picked out. I was ready.

Then I got distracted, busy, didn’t quite keep up with the schedule.  So I sat myself down for a good talking to.  Really, I had already told a few people.  Was I going to turn into a little liar?  Why hadn’t I signed up?  Was I afraid of the commitment?

I was afraid. Afraid of taking on something new.  Particularly afraid of getting back on my bike, as I had a bad fall a few years ago and haven’t biked much since.  But there was a deeper fear.  You see, my son is about to deploy to Afghanistan for a second time, and that makes me scared.

So where to put all this fear? It’s normal to be afraid of war.  There would be something wrong with me if I weren’t.  But my son has trained for this dangerous job, and the best way to honor him is to get past my own fears.  So I’m getting busy working on a new goal.

Hard?  Yes.  Challenging?  You bet.  Will there be tears along the way?  Of course—some because I’ve pushed my body too hard, and some out of worry about him.

But I love that I can shout out to the world, “I am a triathlete!”  It doesn’t matter if I’m slow, or not a great swimmer.  What matters is that I’m aware of my fears and I’m channeling them somewhere productive.  I’ll keep you posted on the progress.

I’m proud to report that I finally did sign up for the race two days ago.  And since it’s a hundred buck investment, you can be sure I’m going to show up for it.

So how are you channeling your fears? Not every one is as big as this one, but I can vouch for the importance of moving your body to move past the fear.  It focuses my heart in a new direction and keeps my mind sharp.  And what better way to face fear than that?

The bane of deep, serene slumber stands idly waiting for the moment to explode into unwanted pandemonium.  As soon as the demon erupts in the serenity of untainted airwaves, there passes a few moments of inaction.  As we sprint from the closing figure in our unexplainable dreams, we are unfortunately (or thankfully) ripped from the unconscious limbo to address the sudden disturbance.

Our eyelids unravel to reveal two weary lenses straining to survey the environment for the nuisance.  Like a dormant volcano bellowing its century-old contents, we unwillingly tear ourselves from the warm cocoon and gingerly place our feet onto the chilled floor.

Our body moans with cracks and pains from the hiatus from movement.  Our tender muscles contract to bring life to our vessel.  In a zombie-like motion, we clumsily struggle to the squawking box.  Squinting through the darkness, we vaguely identify the master controls and silence the perpetrator.

Following our triumph we are faced with the morning debacle: to sleep or not to sleep?  Our body, heart, and tired soul crave for a few, supposedly beneficial minutes of tranquility, but our rationale begins prepping for a day of achievement.

We can only thank one entity for this exigency: the alarm clock.  As much as we despise its rude introductions to an otherwise blissful morning, we must appreciate its underlying love: allowing us to be kings of the day.

As much as we complain about change, when we don’t have it, we know something is wrong. This is part of what is happening in countries like Tunisia, Egypt and Jordan today.  When people don’t feel the momentum and pulse of change that helps make their own lives a little better each day, they get weary and frustrated.

A recent article in the Los Angeles Times hinted that what is happening in northern Africa may be something like the fall of the Berlin Wall in the late 80s.  Once the first domino falls, the momentum is unstoppable.

This kind of change is good, but there is a price to pay for it.  It’s kind of like a natural disaster hitting an area.  The ecologists have been studying this for decades, and the biggest lesson they have to teach is about “looseness” and variability.

Ecosystems have lots of variety in them, and that is the very secret to their success.  When floods or fires hit, some hardy little plant and animal creatures survive, start to come back first, and then bring along all the other critters and plant life over time.

“Stay loose” isn’t just a cool slogan, it’s the secret to resilient living.

In general, democracies tend to have more variability and looseness in them—lots of opinions get heard, and arguments are had.  These democracies don’t have to be perfect, but they do need an element of “we’re all in this together”, and the support and sharing, including differences, that comes with it.

Depending on how mature a democracy is—be it nation, family or business—it will be in various states of democratic functioning.  Truth is, we all need a lead dog now and again to create order when things get chaotic.  But a lead dog that stays there too long, and robs people of their creativity and their contribution—well, that can’t last forever.

So change is in the air.  It could get rough for a while, but we know about that as Americans.  A super speech, delivered by Michael Douglas in the movie The American President, puts it perfectly:

“America isn’t easy.  America is advanced citizenship.  You’ve got to want it bad, cause it’s going to put up a fight.”

As we all know, change of any kind puts up a fight. And it’s good for us, because it forces us to decide how much we want it, and to find the best way to shout it out to the world and make it happen.

So let’s not judge the change afloat, or how or why it’s happening.  Let’s learn from it, and remember that variety is the name of the game.  It gives us different opinions, it improves how we explain ourselves and improves our logic and our ability to bring about the very change we desire.

By looking hard at the differences we will eventually find some common ground, and that is where positive action comes from.  When we all agree to start somewhere, then change is really possible.  Let’s stay tuned…