What got you here won’t get you there

Newsletter #17 | May 2024

After taking a two-month break for compassionate leave, starting my Substack On Coping and raising the curtain on Act Two of my life, I’m back with words made to move you.

I hope you find them true, hopeful and helpful as you journey from where you are to where you want to be.

I’d love to know if you do.

What got me here won’t get me there

When I was in my 20s and it was the done thing to stay out all night partying with shots and strangers in search of one-night stands, I secretly looked forward to the decade when social norms would finally align with my behavioural preferences; staying in all night with a good book, a bottle of wine, a warm fire and my soul mate.

My 30s were a blur of work and toddlers; three births bookended by marriage and a career change.

So when I hit 40, I wasn’t bemoaning the loss of my youth or hurtling headlong into a crisis; I was finally arriving.

This is my time, I said to myself.

You can imagine my surprise and disappointment then, as it has gradually dawned on me since turning 43 last month, that what got me here isn’t going to get me there.

So as I navigate my fifth decade, keenly conscious how precious each passing year becomes, here are five things that - having brought me this far - I’m now leaving behind.

1. Judgement

As an aspiring theatre director, figuring out my taste was essential. And to do that I had to sit in judgement.

I would ask myself, do I like this? Is it clear? Is it any good?

By working out what I wanted to see, I began to figure out what I wanted to show. Using the external to get to the internal.

And so, my taste eventually became my identity.

Once I had confidence in what I liked, I could begin to express who I was; through curation (selecting based on standards and then sharing those selections) - or creation (making something from my imagination manifest in the real world).

But as I’ve got older, those same standards have become a weight, anchoring me to the past.

Times change; so too with them fashions, styles, aesthetics. Suddenly my taste is out-dated; my standards from a different era. Similarly, that same need to define my identify by what I like has evolved; now I am not a director whose worth is determined by how good what I show and say is: but a coach whose value lies in how clearly I see and hear.

So thank you judgement; you helped me show and tell.

But from here on out, I think I’ll just watch and listen.

2. Control

When we’re young, we’re taught actions have consequences.

Share your toys, others will share too. Work hard, you’ll pass your exams. Eat your greens, get big and strong.

So some of us grow up believing that we can control outcomes with inputs.

That we can create order from chaos. If only we work hard enough. Learn enough skills. Play by the rules.

And sometimes that is true. Reward can equal effort. We do encounter meritocracies. Meaning may be made from mayhem.

But it is also true that life is unpredictable. People do unexpected things. Actions have unintended consequences. Stuff happens for no reason at all.

Life will give you lemons. And you’ll end up not making lemonade, but with stinging hands.

I always thought that the idea was to control enough of the actions to bring about the consequences I wanted to see.

But now I think I’ll try to let go of how I want things to be and focus on accepting how they are.

3. Independence

Brought up with a belief that I can do anything as long as I set my mind to it, perseverance has long been my super-power. Never give up running through me like a stick of rock.

And to a large extent, it has given me the confidence, drive and clarity of focus to design a glorious life.

But after 43 years defining strength as stoicism, integrity as independence, freedom as fortitude and self-determination as defiance, I now realise the opposite is true.

That courage is found in community. Resilience in relationships. Inner strength in inter-dependence.

It has taken the most almighty of obstacles; the ultimate unplanned unimagined event; the kind of thing no amount of perseverance, stoicism, fortitude or defiance can prepare you for.

And so instead of fiercely clinging to independence, after four and a bit decades, I’ve learned the hard way how to ask for help.

4. Suppression

I am a professional processor of feelings. The 20 years I worked as a Director and Artistic Director were spent diagnosing, decoding, understanding, articulating, recreating, evoking and provoking feeling. Then transmuting it from page to actor to audience.

As a Coach, my job is to hold a safe and confidential space for my clients to feel the full depth and breadth of what is happening; to heed what those feelings are telling them and to intentionally respond in accordance.

Put simply then, my life’s work is to package up my emotional intelligence and sell on my empathy to facilitate transcendence or transformation.

But it turns out I have feelings too. And guess what? It seems I can’t just give them all names, diagnose their origin, box them up and carry on with my day.

I actually have to feel them.

And for someone who prides themselves on being so careful with the feelings of others, I’ve not been very considerate of my own.

And that has to change.

5. Competition

In school you can’t avoid competition. In sport, it’s the whole point.

So as someone who loved school and played a lot of sport, it’s maybe no surprise that when I set my sights on breaking into the theatre industry, I leant heavily on my will to win.

I persevered despite 57 rejected Assistant Director applications. I found team-mates whose strengths my own could compliment so we were stronger together. I drove 10 years of growth at Paines Plough, motivated in large part by wanting to be the best new writing touring company in the world.

I owe a lot to comparison, collaboration and competitiveness.

But you can’t win at life. And the one thing we need more than to climb above others is for them to catch us when we fall.

Ultimately, you can’t beat them. The sooner you realise that, the sooner you can join them.

-

All of which begs the question:

If what got me here won’t get me there - then what will?

Hopefully I won’t have to wait another 43 years to find out.

Inwards, onwards & upwards.