Category: Chit Chat

Have you ever sat back and asked yourself, “how will I know when it’s time to leave my organization”? Well, I suggest that if you’re asking that question, it’s probably time for a check in. How’s it going, Unicorn? Want to have some tea?  Do you have a plan in place or have you been thinking about one?

I remember taking my very first leadership position (queue the rainbows and Erykah Badu’s “Love of my Life” <—— my favorite song for almost every personal celebration) and I thought that everything was in place if anything ever happened to my ED. I lived in this ignorant bliss for 3 years. I did all of my assigned tasks: I pushed program growth, grew the collective skills of the team, added structure where structure didn’t exist, peeked at the budget, you know… all the things.  Then, one morning I got to work and everything was different. The normal pictures I was so used to seeing in weekly supervision were down from the wall, and boxes were on the desk. My ED gave her notice. MY ED GAVE HER NOTICE.

MY.EXECUTIVE.DIRECTOR.GAVE.HER.NOTICE

No, I wasn’t shocked. It was fine, I was fine, everything was fine. I knew we were going to get through it. I knew that the Board had a plan. I mean, they HAD to have a plan, right? I knew I had never SEEN someone else in the building learning the tricks of the trade, but that didn’t mean things weren’t in motion. I was safe in that thinking until the call came. Their plan was ME.  In all of my time there, this was NEVER once a discourse I entered into. Not one single conversation. Not for a moment did I feel set up for success. The Board was pretty much hands off and said, just business as usual. I had never attended a board meeting. I didn’t know what to prepare (turns out, my predecessor didn’t really prepare anything and my Board didn’t really know how to be a Board) so I got to work, and so did they. We came through that period of transition as a team. We all understood what needed to be done, and how we were going to accomplish it. After my first year, I started my succession planning. It looked like this

PK’S BINDER OF KNOWLEDGE

•  A copy of all grant reports, ever. (seriously, every one you write)
• A copy of important donor profiles- the one’s that the new person should probably contact in the first month
• A Board Binder- complete with the last several months board reports you put together
• The strategic plan
• Any Employee evaluations you’ve done in the past year
• Any employee Performance Improvement Plans
• Copies of grants
• An indication of where they can find all the financials they need and at least a quarters worth of P&L’s
• Your Board list and a list of any potential board members that may be in the queue
• Any outstanding issues (especially the bad ones), partnerships or MOU’s
• Anything else you think is important to pass along. This can be anything from a list of vendors to your favorite local ED support group to memberships your org holds.

Most of all, when you are getting ready to transition, don’t hold on to any ill will (if it exists). Set your predecessor up for the success you wish you’d been set up for, or better. Bring them out for lunch and have a really candid conversation about the job, the hard parts and the best parts. Make sure they aren’t surprised by ANYTHING (especially if it’s financial). Most of all, Unicorn, help them shine. Even if your time stewarding the mission is over, the mission must carry on. It is still going to be all of the good things you imagined it would be, all of the good things you dreamed for it, but now it’s just time for someone else to take charge and live their dream (queue the rainbows and Erykah Badu)

PK

So we have either all been there, or you will get there. We run across a donor who is adamant that they don’t want a thank you; not a card, not a letter, not an email, not even a wave across the counter at the Starbucks in acknowledgement of their gift to your org. HOLD ON TO THOSE PEOPLE!  When you get the initial rebuff of your offering, it’s important to listen to WHY the donor doesn’t want you to take the time out to thank them. You will get a myriad of answers from “don’t waste my donation on a stamp and paper” to “thanks you-s make me uncomfortable” to “you have so many better things that need to be done with your time”. Each of these is valid, and deserves to be respected. It is also fair to ask (I mean, you’re ALREADY speaking), how CAN I acknowledge your donation? If they don’t know, it’s ok, but make a suggestion. Try asking if their cancelled check from their bank is enough of an acknowledgement, or ask if a phone call is appropriate.  They may say, don’t ever contact me, I’ll contact you!  Take them at their word. I know, it’s hard, but it’s all part of stewardship. Think of how much more that donor will feel like they can give because they were heard! And anyway, at the end of the year when you are sending out all of those cumulative “this is how much you donated this year” letters, they’ll see it, and be thankful that you listened.

This definitely isn’t an easy one for me to write, or to admit, but I’ve lost myself in a deep spiral to the mission. And not only did I lose myself, but there was collateral damage,  A LOT of it.  Just to give you an example:

• My 23 year marriage
• Endless numbers of my kids school events
• Several family holidays (the big ones)
• I don’t exist in pictures with people I love
• Vacations, daytrips and escape rooms
• Friendships
• All of my hobbies
• Baby showers
• Weddings

You get the picture. I put the mission before anything and everything. It was a convenient escape and a terrifying realization. Now, 2600 miles away from the only place I’ve known as “Home” for the last 25 years, 2600 miles away from my teenage son, 2600 miles away from my sister and brothers, I’m rebuilding. I’m grateful to the ones that stuck around to help me through this, because they deserve better from me. I’m thankful for better boundaries and for people who hold me accountable to the life I said I want to create for myself. But it makes me sad to know that I am definitely not alone in this. There are so many of us who lose ourselves to our missions, and we don’t talk about it enough.

So I think it’s time to recommit to ourselves. With all the pivots, and quarantines, and endless meetings, it’s time to really evaluate what we are doing. I realized today that it is easier for me to say yes to more meetings because I don’t have to drive anymore. It’s easier for me to schedule six, one hour long zoom meetings because non of it requires any travel for me. It’s easy for me to not take a lunch break because I feel like stepping away, while working from home makes me feel like I am not holding up my end of the deal. But you know what, the narrative I am speaking to myself is in direct opposition to how I truly feel.

It’s ok to say no to the 5th meeting. It’s ok to not turn your camera on. It’s ok to take a sick day. It’s ok to plan a day off and sit on the couch and comfort eat chips and dip (Original Ruffles are my favorite). It’s ok to want to snuggle your pets or partner at 2 in the afternoon after a marathon morning. It’s OK to not be productive for 12 hours a day!! Mostly, it OK to find your personal joy. Give yourself permission to acknowledge that you deserve it. For all of you Unicorns that are losing people, losing your passion, losing your wits…It’s ok to ask for help. I wish I would have listened to myself sooner.

PK

I’m feeling it, you’re feeling it. It’s ok to admit it. Covid has been a real strain on our resources, our emotions, and on our positivity. I feel like the messages of “just keep swimming” are falling over into the toxically positive realm and as much as I want to be here for it, I’m not here for it.

Self care looks different for everyone. For some it really is taking a long hot bath and reading a book. For others, its a hike or a really aggressive bike ride. Finding what works for you is like shoe shopping, keep trying pairs on until something feels just right. I used to have a really good self-care routine. It involved a lot of time sitting in front of the ocean, picking up rocks and throwing them is. The thing about it was that each rock and I had a long conversation about what was troubling me, and when I felt strong enough to let that go, I threw the rock in the ocean and literally let it go. Sometimes, rocks would stay with me for a week or more. Every time I had to take it home with me, I wrote a little something on the rock as a reminder that I still had much to work through. But, my friends, I moved away from the Atlantic Ocean and I have yet to find anything as therapeutic as the rock throwing. I’m toxically positive that I will find a replacement though! California living is kind of a cool thing in that I have “access” to all the seasons that I want to access, and I can literally find an activity to do indoors or out during every season of the year!

For now, I still seek some solace in rocks. I find myself picking them up, even collecting a few. I found one that looks like my old home state of NH and I hold onto it a lot. Me and NH have history y’all.

How’s self care looking for you in this Covid spun world? I’d like to feel the burn of the sun on my skin soon (not in a melanoma kind of way, but with plenty of SPF for sure) and I’d like to get on a plane soon. What has your journey looked like? I feel like some people were just born with an understanding of how to care for themselves emotionally and physically, and me, well, for now it’s just me and this rock.

PK