Five years ago, I was in a lab, surrounded by phones and telephone switching equipment, isolated from the rest of the workplace by locked doors that required special security to pass through.  It was a place littered with old test cases and outdated manuals and post-it notes with passwords and logins.  Only the hum of machines kept me company. 

Five years ago, I had been away from technical work for 18 months, having created my own position as Retention Leader. My creativity had been unleashed and then stopped up again, like a genie in a bottle. My analytical side was called back into service by managers who had laid-off one too many employees and still had to deliver software to customers.   

I was scheduled to be in the lab for three months, testing software for telephone switches. I focused on getting through the assignment as quickly as I could. There was no joy in this work. It had little meaning for me. Test case by test case, I went through the motions, girded not by spirit but by professional integrity. I met my deliverables a month early.

At the end of each day, I was lifeless, depressed. I felt like a third of my usual self.  My interactions with others were brief and reserved.  At home, my husband saw the toll this assignment was taking on me but could only stand by, helpless.

This experience, after having blossomed half-way and then having the sun and water taken away, gave me a new appreciation for what others face on a daily basis. I knew my assignment would be over in two months and then I could go back to being in the groove. I also knew that others didn’t have the certainty of an end date for their misery.  I had indeed crossed over, from being a techie to being, well, someone else. And there was no going back without doing alot of harm to my soul. 

Today, my work space is comfortable and warm.  I work in a home office, surrounded by photos of my friends and family, walls painted a deep red and buttercream yellow.  On my desk is a thank you card from a favorite niece and a fragrant candle from a colleague who just vacationed in Hawaii.

Each day, I look at my schedule and smile at what is in store for the day–whether it’s working with a client, collaborating with a colleague, giving a presentation or blogging about something I’ve read or experienced. These are all things that I’ve chosen.  My work is suffused with joy, heartfulness, and meaning. 

At the end of the day, I usually feel satisfied and grateful.  Satisfied because I’ve seen the impact of using my gifts.  Grateful because I know that this life fits me.  Sometimes I’m tired, but it’s not the tired that feels like I’ve been beaten down. It’s the kind of tired that says I’ve been at the computer too long or need a break from being on the phone.

Rather than trying to make it through the day, there are plenty of moments to savor. I am more than I was five years ago–more vibrant, more visionary, more optimistic. 

What I am most surprised by in looking back five years ago is how I could not see the possibilities for my life.  Yes, I knew that I would not be in that lab for more than a few months. But I had no idea that I had the power to create and shape my life as much as I have. Five years ago, no words could have convinced me of this truth.  Some truths are only accepted after living them.