A Hard Truth: To Grow We Must Feel Our Feelings

Sunflowers growing in Provincetown's East End

Several weeks ago I wrote about how I use some mantras (and lessons from cormorants) to remind myself of the progress I’m making, even if I think I’m not nearing my goal fast enough.

And although I stand by my cormorant-derived wisdom, there is sometimes deeper work to do to figure out why we’re not making progress toward a goal or a desired change.

Because change is often really hard for humans. In the past couple of weeks, I’ve witnessed several people in my life (some personal and some professional) struggle to implement changes that they want to see.

Someone wants to change the way they show up and are perceived at work.

Someone else wants to leave their job and change careers.

A good friend wants to stop people pleasing.

Another person wants to stop eating dessert three times a day (ok maybe that’s me).

These are all examples of people who know something in their life isn’t going the way they want it to, but are struggling to make a change. And that’s not unusual. Life is often complicated and many things can stand between us and the life we want–health issues, money challenges, and family obligations can all prove to be stubborn obstacles. And I just happen to really like chocolate.

And beyond my dessert issues, a recent session with Kim Gattle, a good friend and great coach, helped me to see what was standing in my way of fully embracing the changes I’ve made in recent years.

In the past couple of years I’ve made a lot of professional changes, with my professional goals shifting drastically (at one time, I wanted to work in the White House, loved the noise of the city, and actually wanted to go to networking events. Who was that person??).

As I begin my third year of consulting and coaching full-time–far from any city and the White House–I’m very happy with the choices and changes I’ve made. And a big part of my professional (and, really, personal) transition is creating time and head space to pursue creative photography as something more than a hobby but not quite yet my profession.

I’m not shy about networking around or otherwise discussing my consulting and coaching work. On some level it makes sense–this is the work that pays most of the bills, and I love doing it. Although I was fortunate enough to be able to step away from a full-time salaried job, I’m far from being able to exist without an income. So, sure, it’s important and practical for me to devote a lot of time not only doing the consulting and coaching work but also positioning myself so I can keep doing it.

But in the conversation with Kim, I expressed frustration over what I perceive to be the slowness with which my photography work is progressing. I have a plan in place (or, at least, the idea of a plan), but I haven’t been able to advance it in the way I’d like. I was stumped, because I love the work, I had a vision for what I want it to become, and yet I was still struggling to get out of the rut I feel like I’m in.

We then started talking about my recent visit to Washington, DC, where I had lived for nearly 22 years. I talked about how on this visit–my 6th or 7th since I moved to Provincetown in August 2019–felt different than the others. For one thing, most of the past visits were during the pandemic. I had made a professional change but I didn’t feel drastically different from my friends and former colleagues who I saw on those past visits. Life for everyone was different and a little–or a lot, depending on the exact timing–scary.

But for this recent visit in spring 2023, I experienced DC and my friends and former colleagues very much like I did in 2019. Now whether everyone actually feels the same as they did in 2019 is a different matter. But for all intents and purposes, life was pretty much back to normal.

For the first part of this five-week visit, I felt out of sorts. My life now was nothing like my life from 2019 and earlier. I live in a tiny seaside fishing village/art colony with a population of 3,000. Some nights in the winter I literally see more coyotes on the streets than humans. My goals have nothing to do with the White House, and instead are focused on my coaching and consulting practice, and selling more of my photos to people who are not my mother or close friends.

As I talked to Kim, I realized that I hadn’t come to terms with the change I’d made. Most days, I’m very happy with the change, but because I started making the bulk of this switch while the world was coming undone, I hadn’t fully absorbed that it was in fact a big change. And I had feelings about that! Because although I wanted to make this change and I am grateful I did, I still lost some things in the process: the work itself, but also many of the people I did it with. And, I’m not embarrassed to admit, the pride that comes from getting invited to the White House for a bill signing or reception with the President. Not something I ever thought would be available to me as a small closeted gay kid growing up in Trucksville, PA.

This conversation made me realize that for me to really embrace the photography part of my new life, I had to acknowledge the changes I’ve made in a deeper and more serious way. That old life was great for a lot of reasons, but it wasn’t one that made much space for creativity–at least not at the level I now want to pursue. The things I had let go of mattered to me, and I need to be real about that before I can go forward.

In particular, I had to:

• Feel any sadness around the good things I lost by making the change. And, actually, all the things I lost, the good and the bad.

• Remember and stay connected to the people who mattered the most from those years and that life.

• Acknowledge and actually celebrate the change (I’m not good at doing this, but I’m very good at pushing my coaching clients to do it. Those are the rules!)

• And, most of all, be patient with myself as the world comes out of the pandemic and I adjust to this latest new reality.

I’m also taking these lessons with me into my conversations with my coaching clients who feel particularly stuck. The best plan–and the best intentions–won’t matter if we’re not willing to face our feelings. As a coach, I guide my clients toward the future, but in a way that acknowledges the past.

It’s hard work–for both the coach and the client–but it’s essential if you want to take the right steps forward for yourself.