Human Soup

I am the only daughter of a woman who once heard a voice while she was ironing underwear. Her husband’s boxer shorts, to be more specific. The voice came from over her right shoulder and it was clear and real and said simply, “What are you doing?” At least, that is how the legend goes. 

This woman from small-town middle-of-nowhere Indiana had done everything right. She had been a good Indiana girl (poodle skirts were involved…really) gone to college, married a kind, if kind-of boring man, and now she was standing in the kitchen ironing his underwear. 

What came next is not legend. She packed up her green Volkswagen full of cats and whatever else would fit, and she left. She left a note. I actually think his name was John. She went on to crack, if not shatter, glass ceilings in multiple industries, battle #metoo before it had a name, and is still breaking hearts and changing the world. That’s what she’s doing. 

That’s where I came from (not from John, from the next one), but it’s not where I was.  I was a child of divorce (the next one didn’t work out either) and a people-pleaser by nature, so I, too, tried to do everything right. I quietly finished college, and I was with a man named John, who was also kind. I was working in the family business – which, if it wasn’t expected, was greatly appreciated.

One day, I was sitting at my desk and found myself sobbing uncontrollably. It was a nice enough office with exposed brick, an actual locking door, and four solid walls. It showed the world that, on some level, I had made it…somewhere. 

No matter the weather, it was always overcast because a parking garage had long ago blocked the sun. I would watch the cars go up, but I could never see them come down. The red message light was constantly blinking. I could hear lunchmeat sandwiches crinkling out of plastic bags in the kitchen. And me sobbing. I knew Eric in the next office could hear me, but he didn’t say anything.

At that moment, I felt something inside me ask, ”What are you doing?” I saw so much around me that I wanted to change, in the world, in my life, in the business, but felt powerless to change any of it. 

So I left all of it. My job, the relationship, the underwater condo. This was not necessarily a “good” decision, but it was the choice that I made. I left it all without a plan and started traveling, staying in $5 hostels, and teaching yoga to make ends meet. I did less self-exploration than you might think and drank more than you might expect from a yoga teacher, but I saw a lot and I met a lot of people. Mostly, I was simply… Away. 

I eventually came back and re-engaged with real-life and slowly re-built it. (When I say slowly. I mean SLOWLY, and I’m leaving out a lot here). 

And this is where the real work began. It’s easier to break things than to put them back together, but that’s where the real beauty is. I tried to approach decisions big and small with curiosity, questioning the ‘why’ behind everything.  That’s not possible. Why not? That’s not normal.. Why? You can’t do that… Let me show you I can. 

I’ve realized that you don’t have to break everything to move in a new direction. You put one foot in the direction you want to go and start going.

Making change starts with being open to possibilities. It means knowing that there isn’t just one right way. This applies to social and organizational change as much as it does to our own lives. 

We should always be asking ourselves and others, What are you doing? Why are you doing it that way? What can I learn from you, what can I learn from this experience, and how can we learn from each other? How can we make change happen together? Is cereal soup? How can your experience and your point of view make things better in ways I have not even imagined? 

So what am I doing now? Honestly, I have no idea. And if I knew, this story would have a much tighter ending. But I am open to creating new possibilities. And I’m not sitting still. That’s what I’m doing.