Some of you may know that I’m a career transition coach. What you might not know is that I’m in the middle of experiencing a career transition of my own. I’ve been offered what seems like my dream job. I will get to go to an organization whose culture is struggling and bring my passion with me to do everything I can to effect a positive change.

The thing about transitions is, it’s exciting (I’ll talk more about the difference between a transition you create vs. a transition you are forced into), it’s exhausting, and it’s overwhelming. It’s an emotional roller-coaster and it’s a huge way of getting out of your comfort zone. It’s also very rewarding once you find yourself on the other side.

I’ve spent just over 9 years at the organization I am currently with. Six of those years were filled with more angst and misery than I would care to admit. But these last three years, everything changed.

Now, having experienced two transitions in the last three years, I’d like to share what I’ve learned.

It’s ok to grieve

If you’ve read my bio, you know that I went through a transition 3 years ago but that it wasn’t of my choosing. That was hard. Nevertheless, I found my own way. What I’m not sure comes across so clearly is how much I grew to love my colleagues in the time since then. Not just the immediate team I was working with. I made real connections, real friendships, all across the organization; something I never thought was possible for me in that place.

Then I was offered this position, out of the blue. At first I kept thinking something would go wrong. “They’ll change their minds. They don’t really want ME. What’s so special about me anyway?” Those Fear Gremlins never disappoint. But as each step of the process was reached, and it became more and more clear that I was really going, I grew more and more stressed. I grew more and more sad.

And I felt alone.

You see, in my industry, you don’t talk about having received a job offer until it’s handed to you in written form, in an official letter. I’d heard too many horror stories of people burning their bridges early and then some freak thing happens and the deal gets taken off the table.  The problem is, months can go by between a verbal offer and a written one.

I’d known of this offer for 5 months.

I’d only told a few people who were close to me, but I didn’t dare speak of it too much for fear that it would cause the whole thing to blow up. This meant I had to keep my thoughts, my excitement, my sadness, and my stress, mostly bottled up. I coped by telling myself it wasn’t real. I actually appreciated the Fear Gremlins for telling me those lies. I could go on clocking in and out of my job, business as usual; and yet taking on only short-term projects, not knowing how much longer I’d have to wait. Reconciling both of those things was tricky at best.

So for 5 months, I felt useless at work. I know that’s not entirely true. I know I contributed the best I could and found ways to be valuable. That’s just who I am. I’m not one to just twiddle my thumbs all day long waiting for the day when I can leave.

But I still felt useless.

And then, finally, I got my letter; and everything suddenly became real.

Waves of grief suddenly washed over me, every time someone acknowledged my departure. A simple “you will be missed” had me quietly wiping tears away at my desk. Fortunately, I lead a meditation group every day at lunchtime. On one of those particularly difficult days, I was lucky enough to be alone in the meditation room, so I sat quietly and asked “Shouldn’t I be happy to finally be leaving for this so-called dream job? Why am I so sad about this?”

And the answer I received was “Because you love them”.

And I sobbed; complete with big heaving breaths, wet face, and blowing my nose disgustingly.

I loved them. I hadn’t realized that the changes that I had made within myself in those three years, to help myself find joy in my work, to help myself connect with the deeper meaning of the work that I was doing, to find purpose in my career, also meant that I connected deeply with the people I interacted with.

Three years ago, when I was given the news of my demotion I sobbed too. I grieved the end of an era, sad and relieved at the same time, and I felt fearful for the future, not knowing what would become of me. I felt a lot of anger too, to have been unceremoniously tossed into this position I didn’t want. It was a different kind of grieving process because it wasn’t a situation of my own making, but it was still grief.

When you’re in a transition, it’s ok to grieve the end of the previous era of your life; even if it’s something as simple as changing jobs.

Years ago, I would have felt stupid for feeling that way. My practical nature would have me metaphorically slap myself in the face saying “Get your shit together Mel. It’s not like somebody died.” But my years of practicing compassion, and especially self-compassion, mean that I’m working on being kinder to myself now.

You can call it grief with a small “g” if you want, but if you allow yourself to feel through the discomfort, whatever it may be, it will pass much quicker and you’ll be able to bounce back much more easily.

It’s ok to rest

At the end of the week, I was exhausted. You would too if you spent a week going through constant emotional highs and lows.

But I had work to do; both at my job and for my business. As the weekend approached, however, I felt numb. You know that feeling you get when you’ve cried so much you have nothing left to expel? Yeah, that kind of numb. I had no energy. No will. No drive.

But I was behind on finalizing some projects I’d been working on. I was behind on my writing. So I brought work home, and although I did do some minor tasks, I only spent a fraction of the time I had planned to spend wrapping things up.

You want to know what I did? I slept, and I watched Netflix. I totally binged.

Some of you might think: “So? What’s wrong with watching a bit of Netflix?”. You see, I don’t watch TV anymore. I cancelled my cable years ago, and I only keep Netflix because it gives my daughter something to watch other than our Disney movie collection (there’s only so many times even she will want to watch Moana).

I spend most of my free time writing, or working on my business, connecting with clients, or diving into my own personal development. But once in a while, my brain gets exhausted too, and mindlessly watching Netflix becomes my guilty, lazy indulgence.

Guilty being the operative word.

I have trouble allowing myself time to rest.

But when I chose to go the route of the entrepreneur, I looked at business owners of all kinds, men and women, in all kinds of industries, experienced and new, and saw how exhausted, stressed, and burned out so many of them were. Even those that had now found some form of balance, had spent years burning themselves out, and learned the hard way to make self-care a priority.

I swore to myself that I would not kill myself for my business.

I refuse to burnout for this; no matter how bad I want it. That is not what success looks like to me.

What good would it do me to have financial and career success if everything else around me is disintegrating?

It won’t do me any good. It won’t set the right kind of example for my daughter, and it won’t do my clients any good for me to show up exhausted and barely able to focus on them or support them in the way they need me to.

So even though sitting on my couch and “doing nothing (productive)” makes me feel all kinds of uncomfortable, I forced myself to do it anyway.

Prioritizing self-care means just that: making it a priority

Listen to any successful entrepreneur. Start with the ones who do either lots of speaking or who have podcasts. Listen to any motivational or inspirational YouTube video. There is no shortage of successful people who have stories of struggle and major breakdowns on their way to success.

That’s all fine, but when did it become a badge of honor to have a mental breakdown on your way to success? I’m certain that’s not why they’re sharing their stories.

What if I don’t want to have a mental breakdown on my way to a successful career, to a successful business? Does it mean I can’t truly be successful?

If I work my ass off to prevent burnout or any other major mental health issue, on my way to success, will that make me less legit as a business owner?

If it does, I don’t care. I still refuse to burn out. Taking care of myself needs to be my FIRST priority.

For me, as stress starts to take hold, I start to eat less healthy foods. I reach for the take-out, the Ramen noodle bowls for lunch, the pastries for breakfast (and lunch), the 2^nd or 3^rd cup of coffee in the afternoon, the ice cream for dinner (I’m an adult and I can eat ice cream for dinner if I want to!).

Pretty soon, my body’s full of toxins and screaming at me for nutrients.

My brain gets foggy. I sleep for 8-9 hours and still feel exhausted when I wake up. I’m emotional (even more than usual), I have no energy and I can’t focus.

I’m not a super clean eater or anything but I do know that when I make more of an effort to eat more fresh foods, and drink a ton more water, I feel much better.

Then, once I’ve got that under control, it’s making the effort to get back to my regular meditation and exercise routine. It’s by no means perfect, but I stay on it and keep practicing.

When you’re a high achiever, and you’re in a career transition, it’s easy to get stuck in the process and the tasks that need to get done to wrap up at one job, and then dive into the learning curve that inevitably comes at the new job.

Just don’t forget to allow yourself the space to emotionally process the transition too, however that may look like for you.

I want to hear from you

Have you gone through a transition before? Does what I wrote above resonate with you, or are there pieces that you feel are missing from your own experience?

Do you know any successful people who prioritized balance from the beginning, who didn’t experience some kind of major mental health crisis somewhere along the way? If so, please point me in their direction. I would love to learn from their experiences.

And as always, if you need someone to help you through your own transition, even if it’s just someone to share with who will listen unconditionally, I am here for you.