Choosing Joy

Last year, I was asked to speak to a group of women at my church. Now…I’m a trained accountant, not a motivational speaker. My wheelhouse is numbers and spreadsheets. The only speaking I’ve done to a group has involved a PowerPoint presentation backed by data-loaded Excel files in a room of other accountants and corporate types. Believe me, it’s as riveting as you’re imagining right now. So, when I was asked by my friend to speak at our women’s Christmas dinner, the conversation went something like this:

My friend: Hey, I had this crazy idea that you should speak at our Christmas dinner.

Me: Bwaahahahaha

My friend: No really.

Me: I’m not a “speaker”. And I’m the last person who should be allowed to speak in a church. …Is this because you don’t have a budget for a real speaker? (Did I mention my brain always goes to numbers?)

My Friend: No, I’m really just feeling like you should do this.

Me: And what am I supposed to talk about?

My Friend: Joy.

::Lingering silence while she hit me in my soft spot::

My Friend: So just let me know how much time I should allot for you during the dinner and if you need any props.

Her request totally caught me off guard. I don’t know about you, but I have a lot of labels for myself: wife, mom, woman, financial professional, anxious, wine-drinker (yes, that label is related to the previous label), planner, maker-of-dinners, the list goes on. But I don’t wear the “speaker” label. And more importantly, I felt like I had zero qualifications to speak to church-goers. But she picked the one topic I had a passion for and felt like I could speak on. Maybe she was on to something. So, I went for it…

Like most life wisdom we acquire, my passion for joy comes from learning the hard way. Back in 2012, I was in my late 20’s and riding my corporate high horse. My husband and I had a baby whom I woke up at 6am every morning to nurse, so we could be in the car by 6:30am and at my work’s on-site childcare center by 7am. We did this only 4 days a week though, because before my maternity leave, I had made a hormonal, but convincing push to negotiate a reduced work schedule.

Non-traditional work arrangements were unheard of in my male-dominated department and 100-year-old company, so they originally didn’t know what to do with the request other than tell me a big fat “No”. But I had done the math and I didn’t like it. If I worked a traditional 5-day work schedule, my baby would see her day care providers more waking hours than she saw me – even when I tacked on 2 full days with her on the weekend. That didn’t sit well with me. If I got 1 more day with her each week, the scale would tip in my favor. (I think you’re getting the gist of how my brain works around numbers.)

So, I went back to my department and told them I would need a reduced schedule once I was a mom and that if they weren’t able to provide that, I would have to find a job that would. …Wait – did I just suggest I would quit my job? I had financially planned for my salary to decrease, but not eliminated! I don’t think I’ve ever given anyone such a demanding ultimatum in my life. But I was hormonal and had “mama bear” instincts growing inside of me. So, I waddled me and my belly out of my boss’s office and let the request hang out there for a few days.

Shockingly, it worked. I happily traded 20% of my salary for 1 extra day with my baby. All things considered, I had a really good gig going. When our baby finally came, I got to be Corporate Accounting Nerd four days a week and Mama Bear three days a week.

Apparently, my hormonal audacity didn’t put my department heads off, because about a year after I came back from maternity leave, I was asked to apply for a role that was opening up. It would be a huge promotion with a sizable pay increase, but it would require me to regain a 40-hour week schedule. (And I think we all know that 40 hours stretches into 50+ hours in most salaried jobs these days)

I didn’t want to give up my extra Mom-day. I had been given the gift of an unheard-of reduced work schedule. I felt like I had already struck gold. But I interviewed for the job and was extended a lucrative offer. My heart told me to decline the offer. Don’t lose the good thing you have. The money and title aren’t worth it. But my head was saying the opposite. Lean in. You should do this to keep your career on course. You should do this to have more money for your family…for college savings. And more than that, in a seemingly selfless position, you should do this for all working moms! To prove we can do it all!

I was Working Mom – hear me roar!

So I accepted the role - a role that was frankly over my head. But my male department heads (you know, the ones who have never been a mom or juggled a laptop bag, lunch bag, and breast pump bag into their office) said I could do. I could do this…right? I took the money. I took the bigger title. I took the nicer office with the ergonomically perfect leather chair. I was going to prove working moms could do it all without missing a beat.

You can guess how this went.

It. Was. Terrible.

Not only was I new to my role, but my new boss was new to her role too. We both had big learning curves and it seemed like we were both in over our heads. The company was demanding on her; she was demanding on me. It was a bad situation, to put it lightly. I lost the extra day with my baby, and late nights and weekend work slowly drained my soul in the following months. Neither my boss nor I were compassionate to each other. How could we be? We were both in our own personal hells.

I developed a near-constant stress-induced eye twitch. Did you know stress can make your eye twitch? I got into the habit of sitting in meetings with my index and middle finger on my eyebrow. I looked like I was deep in thought, but really, I was holding my eye twitch in place. On another occasion, I went to my annual wellness check-up during lunch and my blood pressure came in at 140/90. The nurse looked me up and down, questioning the accuracy of the read, because an average-weight female under 30 has no good reason to register that high of blood pressure. Except stress. I told her it was a bad day at work, and she brushed it off. But it wasn’t a bad day. It was a bad season.

Well, I only lasted 7 months in that role. I asked, no, begged, for a demotion. Please, reduce my salary and take back the title and fancy office chair. Thankfully, I was awarded my request. Congrats…?

When I initially accepted the promotion, my husband and I popped an expensive bottle of champagne to celebrate – because I “deserved” it, of course. Seven months later, I dragged my empty being onto the couch at the end of that last day and popped a couple of Ibuprofen. No one has ever been as happy to be demoted as I was on that day. And, not surprisingly, my eye stopped twitching that evening.

Willingly taking a demotion and staying at the same company is nothing short of an ego blow. I would spend the next couple years recovering my reputation and nursing my bruised ego. But as embarrassing as that was, I learned.

I learned that we have the power to choose happiness – even if the choice seems counter-cultural or abnormal to everyone else. Why would you want to be demoted? Surely the stress is worth the money!

Is it?

Our culture is so good at telling us what we should be doing to make us happy. That promotion should make you happy. That fancier car and bigger house should make you happy. Having your kids do “all the things” should make them happy.

Suddenly, the world around us is defining our happiness. If we’re not careful, we find ourselves should-ing all over ourselves. Up to our elbows in should.

Perhaps…the should has hit the fan.

Maybe the world around us is wrong? Or maybe our perception of what’s making everyone else happy is wrong. (Social media envy anyone?) Maybe what you think is making everyone else happy…isn’t.

My guess is that you already have a really good sense for the pieces of your life that bring you joy and the pieces that don’t. Everyone else is vying for promotions and you’re content in your current role? Then choose joy. Everyone wants to go out to happy hour and you want to curl up with a book? Then choose joy. Everyone else’s kids are in 3 sports and your kid would rather pick flowers in the field? Then help them find their joy.

Know that it’s okay to choose your joy, even if it doesn’t look like the world around you.