I'm going to hug you now.
Team Letter | August 24, 2024
Aug 26, 2024
This week’s letter is a little different. I hope you’ll allow the diversion. Thanks for reading.
Happy Monday, Alpaca,
When I first moved to Omaha twelve years ago, I didn’t know very many people at all. Oddly, it was our realtor that sold us our house who introduced me to a women’s professional network. And at my first meet-up there, an incredibly energetic young fireball invited me out for a glass of wine. She had singled me out because I was new. Because we were part of the same sorority in college (1,000 miles apart and not in the same years, but you know, sisterhood?). And because, well, she’s her.
We hit it off over a shared love of cheese plates, red wine, and ambitious creative pursuits. That night, we shared dreams and stories and then apologetically called our spouses before we headed home far too late. Just before we got in our cars, she declared “I’m going to hug you now!” and did. She is, to this day, a big declarer. An out-loud love and affection kind of girl.
Fast forward a couple of years – new jobs for us both, new happy hour, same laughter and chemistry. But at this one, I managed to convince her that she and her husband needed to get SCUBA-certified and come on vacation with us. She still calls it “the most expensive glass of wine of my life.” As couples, we barely knew each other. All I really knew was that her husband was a brilliant designer, and had worked on the Obama campaign. And here we were, asking them to spend dozens of hours and untold dollars getting their SCUBA certification, only to go to a remote island of 200 people to see under the sea. They failed to mention that she gets incredibly seasick. And that she doesn’t like small planes. And they went anyway, and we had a ball. At the end of her first successful dive, she pulled off her mask and declared “I’m going to hug you now.”
In years to come, we traveled more, and then less. We took bigger jobs. We had our first and third babies. We were struck by the damning isolation of a global pandemic. Her husband – not only a brilliant designer but also a political activist and force for change in our community and nation, was less social. So into his work. I assumed it was the effect of new parenthood, combined with the pandemic and the political climate. Plus, he was out there kicking ass and changing the world!
On our irregular but still delightful morning walks, she and I would catch up, but mostly about all that was going well – both of us now building new businesses, balancing family life, and finding our way back post-pandemic. We shared a lot of victories, but not always the deepest, hardest stuff. I didn’t tell her about my son getting in trouble with bullies and having to transfer schools. She didn’t tell me everything, either.
Three weeks ago, a Saturday morning shattered into a million pieces for so many people when we learned that he was gone, leaving behind my dear friend and their daughter. “He has been struggling for a long time” were the words she choked out that morning on the phone to me.
“He has been struggling for a long time.” It rattled around in my brain alongside “I’m going to hug you now,” the declaration from a decade ago.
In our company, we talk about healthy workplaces and “teacher mental health” a lot. We know it matters a lot right now, and while I hate to admit it, we also know that it’s a selling point – we talk about it in almost every booth conversation and sales pitch. But mental health is much bigger than that. In ourselves and in our friends and loved ones, mental health is worthy of our time and attention. Right now.
Depression, anxiety, and panic are tricky, these guys. They will convince you (and you will convince your loved ones) that if you talk about them, you are weak. They will assert some power over your inner thoughts, and simultaneously help you put on a show for the rest of the world. They are masters of destruction, because they mess with our brain – the very center of logic and sound thinking and healthy human emotion. The only thing these three little gremlins cannot withstand is human connection. Another brain and heart with outside context. Someone saying you’re not alone. Someone declaring “I’m going to hug you now.”
I’ve been thinking a lot about how hard our team works, how steadfast we are after BIG goals. And I love it, so much. It brings me joy and energy like I’ve never known. But I also know that sometimes, the pace and the To Do lists and the opportunities make me move too fast to stop and check in. To connect in real ways. To hug you now (for real or just virtually, whichever you prefer). I have been so grateful the past week to get some time to walk with several of you, and hear about your lives and your challenges. Thank you for trusting me with those conversations. Let’s keep walking.
Today, we are going to close the office at 2 pm, in observance of the mental and emotional health of ourselves and those around us. Many members of our start-up and design communities (including me) will be attending a celebration of his life this afternoon, while also taking good care of each other, and of our friends and family.
I want to encourage you to mindfully act this afternoon in support of mental health and human connection. Take coffee to a friend you haven’t seen in awhile. Surprise your grandmother with a short visit. Go for a walk or a swim to clear your mind. Call a few folks who haven’t heard from you in awhile. Sign up to be a mentor. Hug someone “right now.” It might be the connection you both need today.
Our daily choices add up to our habits. And our habits weave the culture we’re building. May our choices today connect and embrace, support and celebrate. Don’t wait. Just declare it: “I’m going to hug you now.” And then, do.
♥️
Kb
PS: If you or anyone you know is struggling with depression, anxiety, panic, or other mental health challenges, please take it seriously and ask for help, right away. Help is always, always available. ♥️
