What if there's no cake?

Special thanks to Dirk Bellamy of The Meaning Map for the inspiration for this post…based on reading his post The day after the cake which I highly recommend if my last post resonated with you.

During the orientation for new faculty at the University of Illinois on the first formal day of my academic career, one of the speakers defined the world of academia as “a collection of solo entrepreneurs connected by a central heating system.” It was a brilliant description of the reality that lay ahead—belonging to a department within a college working in a focused area of interest and expertise responsible for your own success.

The truth is I loved that reality.

It appealed to my introversion and my entrepreneurial spirit. It provided a safe place for exploration, and access to experienced mentors whenever I needed some insight or assistance. It also delivered various opportunities to attract funding support and collegial support for projects that required a team.

When I left academia the path I turned to as a professional speaker, coach, and consultant was quite similar. Ideas were developed, funding was sought, and programs were created and delivered. The freedom in my new career mirrored the freedom in my old one, lacking only colleagues from whom I could solicit advice and counsel.

The early years after academia…

During the early years of my solo career I relied upon local, regional, and national organizations for insight for connection, guidance, and skill development. Those groups provided me with protection from the isolation of being a solo practitioner and kept me engaged during the times when the work dried up.

Most importantly, the connections with others on the same journey provided support and encouragement. We supported one another, learned together, and developed our respective skills. We also leaned upon each other for help and looked for ways to share work opportunities with our colleagues.

As my business grew and I focused my energy on a specific niche, I was able to deepen my client relationships and frame my programs as longer term solutions. That helped me focus and stop chasing clients, as speaking at conferences and conventions and securing referrals became my main path to new clients.

Over time, I established a presence in a niched industry where I was able to regularly publish articles that led to more business opportunities. That made everything easier as it focused my work in a specific industry where my expertise was valued and I was able to attract the kinds of clients I wanted to work with.

The next chapter…

After fifteen years of serving a single industry I grew bored and looked for another challenge. This time it was personal. There were personal issues I had pushed down and ignored for decades that needed to be addressed. And the only logical way I could see to do that was to find a way to weave my healing into my work with clients.

That led to learning how to deliver my messages from the stage in a new way. I was ready to be vulnerable and share my story in the hope it might help others. So I enrolled in a speaker training program and spent a couple of years sorting out my message to create the impact I wanted it to have.

From there I went deeper into the work by engaging with as many people as I could to test the messaging and gain their insights into how to make it more valuable. Ultimately, that led me to create a framework (the one I used to finally move past my past) I could share. (I’ve written about most of this in earlier posts and encourage you to explore the archives if you’d like to know more).

An unexpected discovery and an unexpected decision…

After I shared the framework in a couple of workshops I realized something I didn’t expect—I felt healed and whole again and was no longer driven by the need to keep sharing my story. While that may seem selfish, the reality is my goal was about two things from the start—healing myself from the wounds of the past AND equipping and encouraging others to do the same.

My hope was (and continues to be) that the people I spoke with about my experience were able to use it to help them in their healing journeys. I also hope they are sharing what they learned from the experience with others who cross their paths.

Though the work remains close to my heart, the reality is what I envisioned came true: By sharing my story I was able to help a number of people, and those whom it helped will cross paths with others whom they help.

That is what I set out to do the day I sold my business and signed up for the speaker training program. With that task completed, I realized it was time to move on, and so I made the decision to retire.

You gotta plan your own party…

The big lesson I earned that day (and didn’t realize fully until I read the blog post I mentioned at the beginning of this post) was that when a solo practitioner retires, no one notices. There is no ‘surprise send-off’, no cake with well wishes written upon it, and no real sense of closure.

You just walk away and try to figure it out on your own (or ignore it and assume it will be fine), and my experience has revealed that is less than desirable.

Please understand I share this as a bit of a cautionary tale to those who may be about to retire or know it is coming (or know someone who runs a solo practice who is about to retire). If I did it again today, I’d make sure there was some sort of a moment of demarcation to make it clear to me (and those around me) I was now retired…so the moment of change was acknowledged and accepted…

AND…

there would be cake.