By Donna Hoffmeyer
(original post on Medium)
I wrote this article almost 3 years ago. I had been retired from the military for about 6 months and struggling with “what’s next.” Although every person’s transition journey is different, I think, in general, this represents our difficulty with just letting it go.
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I crashed and burned a couple of weeks ago. Out. Of. The. Blue. Okay, if I am being honest with myself, out of the blue might be a little stretch. However, my reaction completely shocked me. I’ll rewind.
I have been retired for nearly 6 months now. Overall, it has been pretty dang nice. I still don’t get to sleep in with two school-aged kiddos, but coming home to walk the dogs, meditate, eat breakfast, and get errands done during the daytime has felt luxurious. Yet, in the background, my mind continues to whir. I’m still planning projects, considering my options for my next adventure, and remaining open to opportunities. Yeah, sadly and reluctantly I’ll admit, I’m still trying to find ways to be my version of productive.
I have way too many ideas, each one just as exciting as the next one. The possibilities in my mind are endless…write another book, start a blog on transition, consult, build The Transitioning Warrior into a resource for Veterans, and many other ideas in between. Where to start has the question. My overactive brain hollers, “Try them all at once!”
I decided to meet with a good friend of mine, Jay, who also happens to be a business consultant, to get his perspective. After an awesome 3 hours of conversation, I felt motivated…and overwhelmed. I figured the overwhelmed part was simply because it was a new adventure. Since I don’t show that soft underside to anyone, I tucked that overwhelming feeling into one of my many emotional storage compartments.
The next day I talked to a web developer I was referred to by Jay and he was great. Very smart, kind, honest, and direct…my type of person. He started asking me questions and I quickly realized I had not organized my thoughts enough to have this discussion. One poignant question he asked was if I intended to make money. I said it would be nice to be paid for my work. Then he asked what my revenue streams would be. I gave him generalities at best, about making content and having resources. He nicely called me out and said he heard lots of ideas, but no focused plan. He didn’t want to waste both our time and my money developing a website I may or may not need. Ouch…that was a sharp stinger, but exactly what I needed to hear.
Now, this is where it went south. Typical Donna would have taken notes, and felt a little ego bruise, but used that to motivate her to get organized. Some of that happened. I took notes, reflected on the conversation, and then proceeded to fall apart. I felt shattered, overwhelmed, worried, scared, frustrated, and about 100 other emotions all at the same time.
I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact I had it together at my last job and now couldn’t figure out how to get my head out of my back end. This made no sense. At my last job, I was organized(ish), handled many tenuous situations, functioned as an SME to other headquarters, commanders, and service members, and more times than not, was on point. (I even fact-checked this with previous co-workers to make sure I wasn’t thinking with some overinflated ego. Hey, we’re human, it happens.) Here I am now, crying.
What the hell happened?
I’ve had a few days to think about this and here are my thoughts.
- Money was never in the picture. I know that might sound crazy, but when I had all these ideas it never came to mind how to monetize it. I talked to another military friend of mine, who is also a bit business savvy and mentioned this to him. He said that is not uncommon. The military is not in the business of making money; they spend it to accomplish the mission. So when we get out, we’re looking for another mission and undervaluing ourselves.
- I put myself on a time limit. Jim commented a new business does not want to be without revenue for very long. He used the breadcrumb analogy for revenue. The pricier the product/service the longer the breadcrumb trail needs to be for the customer to determine if the product/service is worth the purchase. The less expensive, the shorter the breadcrumb trail. In my head, my services would have fallen into the less expensive and my trail needed to be short. Hence, in my head, I needed to work fast.
- I tried to eat the whole elephant in one bite. Something about Jim discussing the revenue portion caused my brain to go into overdrive and I felt I needed to write my book, start a blog, build content, and start a new website all at the same time.
- I compared myself in two very different environments. I asked my husband how I could have it mostly together (keeping it real here) at my last job but fell flat on my face at my first civilian challenge. He said it was simple, in the military we had a vested audience. When I worked with other entities, we were all working from different angles of the same mission. I was also networked, knew the system, knew how to navigate the system, and was an expert in my field. Out here, I am in a completely foreign environment. No one knows me or knows my background/knowledge/expertise; nor do I have a uniform, rank, or some fancy title to convey that information. I have a teeny network; minimal knowledge in setting up a business; no idea how to build an audience or revenue streams; and shudder at the phrase “marketing myself”.
If I had to summarize all this, a long-time friend of mine said it best. “Donna, in the 51 years of my life, I have never seen anyone that can mindf*ck themselves as well as you.” Ouch…shot to the core taken, thank you. (FYI…those are the friends you need in your life.)
My ego hijacked my brain.
As much as I hated to admit it, she was right. I let my insecurities get the best of me and started to doubt myself. Ego loves to impart self-doubt and tries to keep it real…just in a destructive kind of way. “There’s no way you can do that.” “Ha! No more military security blanket, no uniform to hide behind. Now, what are you going to do?” “What experience do you have?” “Ummm…hello, you’ve never done this before!”
Not one of my shinier moments; it’s even a little hard to write about it, let alone have other people read this. However, I needed to have that moment. It’s better I faced myself right then and there, and duke it out with my ego, than have it all blow up in my face later.
’Cause you know it will.
The following week, Jay asked me to fill in for him for a business networking group he belongs to and read the information he sent me…easy peasy.
“Oh and Jim is in this group too.” he casually mentioned, having no idea of the conversation that transpired between Jim (web developer) and me. My fragile ego stuffed that away and is now wondering what he’ll think when he sees I am in the Zoom meeting. On days like this, I would be grateful for spotty internet.
The premise of this group was organized networking. Each person was a business owner and gave a 1 min talk on something specific they want people to know about their business…whether that be what they offer or how they handle business.
Jim essentially summarized a conversation he had with a “very sweet lady” and explained that the lady had lots of ideas but little focus. (Yep, that’s me…all thrust, wide vector.) He went on to say that he could have tried to build a website for her, but he knew it would cost her a lot of money because she didn’t have good clarity. He pointed out another company could have easily taken her for a ride.
I had a lot of respect for him at that moment. I was also profusely sweating from multiple body parts when I realized he was summarizing our encounter. At the same time, it was a bit liberating to hear him put my “hot-messness” (Urban Dictionary, I got a new one for you) out there and see their responses. No one laughed, giggled, or made snide comments. Most people commended him for his business ethics.
Then it was my turn to speak. I debated if I should fess up to the group, I was the “very sweet lady” hot mess. It didn’t seem like the right time, so I held off. Besides, I was too focused on how to get my palms to stop sweating.
About 30 seconds after I spoke, Jim hit me with a private message apologizing for what he said. He stated he didn’t see me at the meeting and out of respect, he would not have used our discussion as an example. I told him I was actually happy he used me as an example of how he runs his business. My ego was still intact and happy, knowing no one knew who the person was he spoke about.
Ironically, I had another opportunity to speak. I had a brief thought. What would happen if I opened the vulnerability compartment and let it all hang out? My ego was hollering, “Are you nuts? No one knows, let’s keep it that way.”
My vulnerable side whispered, “Why not?”. The odds of seeing most of them again were pretty slim. (Yes, I know…famous last words.) After I mentally bound and gagged my ego, I told the group I was the “very sweet lady” Jim had a discussion with and I was grateful he was honest with me. Amazingly, what I received was quite a few nods of understanding, as if reminiscing back to when they were first starting, and discussion opened up on ethical business practices. My Ego was now relieved it had not been publicly shamed and my palms finally stopped sweating.
Vulnerability is hard, it sucks and I am not very good at it. It is even harder when you have been in a career that views it as a disability. I feel like the awkward teen that had her diary stolen and shared around the school. Really uncomfortable.
No matter, the older, wiser chic knows one thing…vulnerability tames that damn ego.
