Taking Pause
In the Summer of 2011, I was sitting in a bar with my best friend, coworker, and roommate in Providence, Rhode Island. We had just graduated from RISD with degrees in industrial design, and we were working at a design studio together, making $20 an hour. Our monthly rent was just $375 each. Even at that pay, we were making enough money to live like kings (at least the 21-year-old vision of living like kings).
We were grateful to have a job at all. Some of our classmates were still searching for work. We were learning a ton about the professional practice of design. But being in our college town, we couldn’t help but feel static. Nothing makes you feel that more acutely than going to a party and someone asks you, “Didn’t you graduate last year?”. (Read: why are you at this college party, you loser?).
What we were looking for was momentum. Somewhere to aim our energy and create movement. So sitting at the bar that evening, we hatched a plan.
We would get out of our current lease. We would find whatever design jobs we could and move to San Francisco, the shining beacon of high technology and modern American design on the West Coast. Some friends had already made the move, and they generously offered their couch and living room as a home base.
Ready. Set. Go.
Looking back over a decade later, everything about both our lives today are the result of the momentum we set into motion that evening. We’ve both made successful careers in design. He made a move into UI/UX, and has worked at some of the biggest names in tech. I’ve worked as an industrial designer and became a partner at a top-tier Silicon Valley design firm. We both met our significant others and created lifelong friendships by living and working in San Francisco.
Is it naivete, bravery, or stupidity that allows a 21-year-old to make far-reaching decisions that dramatically alter the course of one’s life over a beer?
Over the past ten years, aside from a very brief interlude where I shot myself in the foot, most of my waking hours have been dedicated to the design studio I eventually became a partner in, Bould Design.
First I applied myself to becoming a capable design professional, then to building up a strong organization that could scale the design values and processes that I had learned. I had a kind and giving mentor, great business partners, stellar clients, and a wonderful team. We did design work I’m proud of, nurtured strong partnerships with our customers, and made an amazing place to work, learn, and grow for young designers. This will always be one of the major achievements of my career.
By all external measures, things were going swimmingly well. We had built a world-class design organization. But over the course of the last year or so I, like many others, had come to re-evaluate my priorities. I still strongly believe in the values and the mission of the studio. I believe I accomplished many of the things I set out to achieve when I became a partner and put the company on a positive trajectory that continues after my departure. I believe in the leadership and the team. But I also believe I needed a change.
So last month, I left Bould Design and forced all of that momentum in my life to a pause.
Over the last few months, I’ve focused all my efforts to executing a smooth transition with my team and business partners, with the goal of giving myself time to pause and re-evaluate once things were buttoned up. I deliberately didn’t line up another opportunity or venture to afford myself this time. Now that time has come.
This week, I’m reading a lot about a wave of layoffs hitting San Francisco. This isn’t unique to just the Bay Area or the technology sector. Due to world events and the current state of the economy, many people all over the world are being forced to take a pause. If the Great Resignation is any indicator, many people, like me, have also chosen to do so voluntarily.
Though I recognize my pause was self-imposed and I had the luxury of being prepared for it, I think some of my thoughts and feelings after such a sudden change might be relatable, so I’m sharing some things that have been going through my mind.
Accept
Much has been said about people defining their identity through work. I am no different. Willingly or unwillingly, I derived a significant part of my sense of self from being a “designer” and a “partner” and a “director”. These became pillars that held up my sense of self. Suddenly, none of that is there to prop up my identity anymore.
Since leaving full-time employment, when I wake up in the morning there is a certain sense of existential dread. Questions like, “What are you doing with your life?” or, “Have you made a huge mistake?” invade the conscious mind. I have to remind myself that this is natural, and try to avoid pushing these feelings away or seeking temporary salves. Like a process of grieving, you have to feel and process this loss of identity to come to a point of acceptance.
A wise friend told me, “You have to sit with the uncomfortable feelings to move past them”. Whatever my identity was before I instigated this huge change, it is no longer my reality. I must sit with the discomfort that comes with that and seek ways of establishing a new identity. Perhaps one not so rooted in work.
One aspect I will hold on to is being a designer, not only because whatever I do next will be firmly rooted in design, but because it is core to my way of processing the world. As Victor Papanek wrote in Design for the Real World, “All men are designers. All that we do, almost all the time, is design, for design is basic to all human activity”. This rings true to me, and being a designer and applying the design process has only ever been a positive in my life, so I see no reason to abandon it.
A month in, I am still on a journey towards acceptance, but the feelings of dread and loss slowly subside with each passing day. Time and reflection brings me closer and closer, and knowing that acceptance will come one way or another makes it easier.
Do nothing
When was the last time you gave yourself permission to just do nothing?
No 5-year plan. No quarterly goals. No 30 day challenges. No sprints.
If you consider yourself a constantly striving, high-achieving individual (as I do), probably never.
Over the course of my career, I’ve gotten very good at doing things. I pride myself on efficiency, getting things done fast and well. Getting a lot of stuff done by meticulously planning and executing. If you ask my partner, she’ll tell you that whether at work or at home, I’m always doing something.
Sometimes those things were worth doing. Sometimes not. Some were successes, some were a colossal waste of time. My bias towards action and efficiency have allowed me to accomplish a lot, but it doesn’t leave much space to reflect or even just relax.
Last month I gave myself permission to do nothing. I told myself that no significant progress would need to be made in any aspect of my life or career for 30 days. That was hugely freeing and gave me the mental bandwidth to process some of the complicated emotions that came from my recent major life change.
That’s not to say I literally sat on the couch for a month and did nothing. I went on a trip, I continued to write when I felt like it, I caught up with friends, I engaged with the design community. I just took the (largely self-imposed) pressure away to be constantly doing productive things, and tried to let life flow naturally. I’m making more time for things that have no clear output, and doing things just for the joy of it. Things like daily walks and reading for pleasure.
This turned out to be much-needed. I am already starting to feel lighter and more ready to take on what’s next.
“Creative people need time to just sit around and do nothing.”
— Austin Kleon, Steal Like an Artist: 10 Things Nobody Told You About Being Creative
Reflect
As the time comes to be doing things again, I want to be doing the right things that are in line with my values and bringing me closer to a life I want to live. It is better to be inefficient at doing the right things than efficient at doing the wrong things. To better understand what those things are, I’ve been using the newfound time and space to reflect.
Some questions I’ve been contemplating:
What am I good at? What do I want to become good at?
Conversely, what am I not good at, and should stop investing in?
What is the right balance of striving for a achievement vs. enjoying life as it is?
What is the role of a designer in our current world?
How can I best apply the skills I’ve developed for a positive impact?
How do I live a fulfilling, creative life? What does that look like to me?
How do I achieve the freedom of time and location that I want?
What relationships do I value? How do I actively invest in the ones that mean most to me?
I have no clear answers for these big questions yet, but I am relishing the time and space to be able to review the last ten years and reflect on them. I remind myself it is a rare luxury to be able to take a pause from work in order to contemplate these things.
Look forward
I have never been unemployed for any significant period of time. Some friends that have been through such a period found it entirely unpleasant and it shook them to their core. However, one particular friend came out of a year of unemployment visibly happier and clearer on what was next. They told me, “Just focus on your own happiness, and everything else will fall into place”.
Well, “Being happy ain't nothin' more than havin' something to look forward to.”
Even though my unemployment is self-imposed (maybe especially because of this), I knew there was a risk of falling into a dark time and becoming entirely unmoored. I needed a reliable way to keep spirits up. I had heard the quote above before, and generally know that having things to look forward to helps you get through the day, week, or month.
First, I took a much-needed two-week vacation to the UK. Having the trip to look forward to got me through the last few transitional months. Not having traveled internationally in almost two years, it was a refreshing reset to start my period of unstructured time. Getting out of your home environment and seeing how other people live has a way of giving you much-needed perspective. Again, I recognize this is a privilege, and not everyone can do this.
Back at home for the last week, I risked staring into the abyss and getting overwhelmed. So I’ve been scheduling little things to look forward to throughout the week. A drink with a friend, Reconnecting with old professional acquaintances. Calls with people who have reached out to me for advice. An art gallery to visit. A 4th of July barbeque. These joyful moments have punctuated what could have been a period of rumination and negativity and kept me going.
One day at a time
When I decided to stop the momentum of my life and force myself to take a pause, I knew it would be difficult. I knew there would be dark times, there would be joyful times, but most of all I knew it was necessary. For anyone going through a similar upheaval, voluntarily or not, I feel for you. A hard pivot can shake even the most well-grounded individuals. I hope some of what I shared here might be helpful or comforting to you.
I know I will eventually look back on this time as one of reflection, growth, and eventual clarity. Though the new trajectory of my life isn’t clear yet, I do have plans in the works that will reveal it to me.
Just like that evening eleven years ago at the bar with my best friend, I know there will be a day in the near future that I look back on in a decade and see how it injected momentum into a new chapter of my life and career.
Until then, I plan to take it one day at a time.