My health wasn't all that suffered from my multi-year career sprint.
That'd been a known sacrifice. Not a smart one, but one that I was at least aware of. The thing I hadn't quite realized until recently was that, on top of my friendships and social circle, it cost me my network, too. Which feels ironic.
I was on a walk today, lost in thought and dodging puddles with Ava in tow. In a nice change of pace, it was unseasonably warm; but it was also windy as all hell. Between the rain and the melting snow, entire chunks of both the sidewalk and the street were underwater. I clumsily stepped ankle-deep into more than one puddle that felt like it could've been a pond. Even Ava seemed to look at me like I should be embarrassed.
Since I've spent years at this point walking with headphones and a podcast for company, I've been trying to go without them lately. The idea had been to give my brain a break and let it chill. But it seems to be doing the opposite... not necessarily in a bad way, though.
Walking through the neighborhood, I caught glimpses of other folks doing the same. People stopped and talked or smiled and waved. When I did it, it was more of a friendly greeting but it looked like a lot of the others were much more familiar check-ins. I'd been thinking about the past two years and the arc of what I've been working on. Turning the corner, and successfully side-stepping a puddle for once, I'd been mulling over some thoughts on what's next. And I came to a bitter-sweet realization: my singular-focus had carved out an especially-solo space.
For all the clarity I've gained and milestones I've reached, I've noticed that things have shifted. Over the past five years while I've had my head down, I successfully leveled up my skills but have become increasingly aware that I lack people to talk to about it. And I don't get to hear what others are working on in return.
The gut punch is realizing that the personal and professional network I built over a bunch of years didn't pivot with me. I didn't put myself out there to connect with new people, either.
On the one hand, I feel like I really stepped in it. And on the other, I'm no stranger to putting one foot in front of the other when it feels like I'm starting from scratch.
How do you deal with false summits—where you reach a milestone only to realize how much further you have yet to go?
onward.
For more on this daily column and The MAP Year Project, read the backstory here. And if you know someone who'd appreciate this, pass it along.