Monday November 26, 2007 
Monday November 26, 2007 Five years ago this weekend, I went to bed on the Sunday night of the long holiday weekend and dreamt a dream that changed my life.
At the time, I was stuck in a job I despised. My employee communications company had been acquired by a large agency and I was locked in handcuffs of my own making. With the acquisition a failure on just about every count, my days were filled with cost cutting, painful reductions in force, and political battles over everything from which accounts we could pursue to what services we should offer. Decade-long friendships were destroyed. Personal relationships with people I deeply cared about were dealt near-fatal blows. No surprise that deep depression had become a daily struggle for me. Yet I didn't want to leave, because I felt I would be abandoning my team - and because I didn't want to leave a failure.
So I went to work, every day more miserable than the last. And believe me, I'm no poker player. When I'm up, I can't hide it. When I'm down, there's no disguising it. I struggled to lead from a position of strength, but depression was hurting my performance.
There was one bright spot for me. Thanks to the generous recommendations and support of Marian Davis, a VP of human resources with whom I had worked before at Sun, we were back consulting there, helping out with employee communications as Sun was going through its own battles for survival. I had been asked to come in as the acting director of that communication team, as Sun searched for the right person to take the job. Every time I walked into Sun, my heart soared. Every time I met with my fledging team, I felt good. Despite (or perhaps because of) the intensity of the challenge at Sun, I loved the company, I loved the work, and I loved the people.
Yes, Sun had asked me if I would be interested in the job on a full-time basis, but I was still struggling with my other obligations and I just wasn't ready to pull the plug. Until that holiday weekend, five short years ago. That Sunday night, I went to bed filled with dread at going back to work the next day. I crawled into bed, put the pillow over my head and fell into a deep sleep.
I dreamt that I was sitting in my office at the agency, and that one of the partners was across from me, talking to me about more reductions that needed to be made. As I leaned back in my chair listening to her, I realized that my office walls were moldy, and the paint was peeling. I looked up at the ceiling, and saw brown stained tiles, falling to the floor. When I looked at the floor, I saw it was covered with garbage, and slime, and filth. I put my hands on desk and quckly pulled them away, repelled by the spongy wetness of the rotting wood. Suddenly I knew what I was going to do. I rose from my chair, briskly walked from my office, and ran into the one partner who had been both a friend and confidant to me during my four years with that firm. "I need to talk to you, right now," I said. "I've been offered this job at Sun and I think I need to take it." "Of course you do, Terry," he replied. "It will be good for you, and good for Sun. It's time for you to be happy again."
I awoke with a start. I sat up in bed, shook my husband awake and told him, "I've decided to quit my job and go to work for Sun." He mumbled something to the effect of, "What took you so long...?" before falling back to sleep. I, on the other hand, got up and went downstairs to enjoy the sense of peace that comes with a good decision made after much turmoil.
That was five years ago. The dream is as vivid to me today as the day I dreamed it. And its message as true - we each deserve happiness. We each deserve to be appreciated for what we do well. We each deserve to work for a company in which we believe and with a group of people with whom we are proud to be associated. And because my subconscious chose a dream to give me the kick in the pants I needed to make a change, I have all those opportunities and more. I wish no less for you and yours.
Posted by terrymckenzie ( Nov 26 2007, 10:00:00 AM PST ) Permalink Comments [6]
