I’m a career-oriented person. I like working. I’m not a dirtbag. I like what I do as a means to itself. I want to keep growing in my career as a product leader. I am also growing two high-risk humans and raising a toddler. The thing about growing two high-risk humans is that you can’t leave them at home, and the “life” part of the equation follows you everywhere.

People like to think that we can have this fantasy of work/life balance. I never really bought into that concept because I don’t really like to do anything in moderation–work or life. Regardless of whether or not I believe in that fantasy, I’m finding that this situation is throwing me over the edge of any semblance of balance more often than I would like to admit.

Normally, I can take feedback. Normally, I can stand in front of a group of executives and talk about bad news. Normally, I can let all the political BS that comes with my job pass me by. But it’s harder now. I’m tired. I feel frustrated about having to step away from my work just as I’m getting into the swing of things. In addition to that, I feel stressed about how I only have 4 weeks until my hospital sentencing, and stressed that I might not be able to give 3 small humans the attention they need when the hospital stay is over. I am also physically different. I get out of breath more easily. I get dizzy more easily. I cry more easily. And I hate it. That’s just the current baseline, and for the most part, I’ve learned to manage it, and it’s going pretty well. But if you add in a week of solo parenting with Sam not going to bed until 9:30 pm and some extra work stresses, it’s pretty easy to fall completely out of balance.

It reminds me of this optimal performance graph. When my baseline is at “stress,” it’s really easy to teeter further in the wrong direction.

The corporate world values the tough and the put-together. I often feel pressure to be more like that. But fuck that. I try to remember that there are successful leaders who aren’t always tough and put-together. Maybe that’s more relatable. Maybe that builds a culture of empathy. Maybe that’s human.

Maybe growth is still showing up when stuff is hard and you know you’re not on your A-game. Maybe grit is saying “oops, let’s try not to do that again” when you accidentally push too hard and start crying at things that aren’t important. Maybe grit is going back to human resources three times to get a real answer on what the leave policy options are for your situation. And maybe, if you do these things when you don’t feel like you are at your best, you’ll be stronger in the end. Maybe when your baseline is back to normal, things like this will feel easy. And when other people go through it, you’ll understand. And you’ll lend a hand to them. And you’ll advocate for a more inclusive workplace because you know why it matters.

Maybe how I react right now doesn’t define me or my potential. Or maybe it totally does and it’s a good thing. Or maybe it’s not and I’m going to end up as a total failure. Whatever.

Here’s what I try to remember:

• Other people don’t get to define my career growth. I define that.
• I can control what I take with me from this experience and use it to do better in my work.
• I can still do things to grow my career while I’m away. Last time, I studied sequel with an iPhone app. This time might be harder, but I can choose something new to learn that will help my career. Or I can practice letting go, which is definitely a skill I need to work on, too.
• It’s easy to feel like a victim in a situation like this. I am not a victim, and I do not have to give all my power away.
• Being an advocate for working moms is hard. I don’t always want to be an advocate. I don’t want to have to fight for better policies. I don’t want to have to explain over and over that yes, I am coming back after this. But I have to.

When we’re doing things that are hard, we can’t always be perfect. But we can keep trying to do better every day. We can learn from the things we didn’t do so well, let them go, and say “NEXT!”