Communications Blog • Kristin Magette

When grief is the season

February 2, 2021 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Fulfilling Life, Growth & change, Uncommon Wellness 2 Comments

If you’ve lived through loss or trauma, you know the ways that anniversary sneaks up. You may also have noticed that your body will adapt to the quietly advancing grief, before your brain even took note of the calendar.

For me, that happens in February.

It was five years ago this month when we lost Emily, my husband’s twin sister, deeply loved by so many. She’d been sick a long time and outlasted all predictions after beginning hospice care. I didn’t think the pain of our certain imminent loss — phone call, suitcase packing, three-hour drive, Rosary, funeral, burial, funeral lunch, and aftermath — would hurt quite as much. After all, we had seen it coming for weeks and months, slowly creeping in over the course of years. But I could not have been more wrong. Loss is the deepest of pains, and no planning ahead will change that.

As it turned out, five Februarys ago, we were also embarking on a strange year that would become heap piled with traumas we never could have guessed. We have healed a lot, and our life has mercifully moved forward with growing kids and the passage of time.

But each February I notice that my body remembers what my mind doesn’t. I don’t quite feel myself. I am irritable, emotional, or unfairly critical. Maybe draggy, foggy, or oddly sleepy. And it never makes sense — until I notice the calendar.

A year ago around this time, I was chatting with an older woman whose husband had passed away 21 years prior, and she recalled the same. Even now, her body signals the approaching anniversary of loss before she realizes that date is coming soon, usually a week or so away.

As my friend Shawn once wisely said to me, “The mind doesn’t always remember, but the body never forgets.” My professional therapist calls this the body’s wisdom — that our body will show us what it needs, without fail — often well before our brain even catches on.

But I’ve learned these anniversaries that knock us down, year after year, are seasons.

This is good news — and reason for hope.

Nature’s seasons last for a while, but they always end. And the transition of seasons sweeps us into a continual adjustment — clothing, activities, meals, routines, rituals. Both of of these realities point the way forward for anyone who is grieving.

Last February, with a nudge from my therapist, I made a list of what feels good or nurturing in this difficult season. Returning to it today reminded me how to proceed as the season of grief returned again.

Slow down, reducing unnecessary commitments and lowering (my typically too-high) expectations.
Pray, read, and doodle more.
Carefully limit the inputs and outputs of social media.
Put exercise and activity goals (and related Apple Watch reminders) on hold.
Enjoy meals with my family a bit more, homemade or not.
Allow tears and laughter equal space and time, without trying to understand.
Snuggle in and watch as many episodes of the Great British Baking Show as I want.

Day by day, I can make peace with the anniversary ache that continues to surprise me. And if I slow down with intention – resist the urge to bob and weave to avoid the discomfort — I can make peace with those unexpected fluctuations in mood and energy. I can navigate the days that feel completely upbeat until suddenly and without warning I need to stop, close my eyes, and be very still until I feel myself again. And I can rest in the certain knowledge that seasons always pass with time.

Five years in, February is a month of big feelings – and grace and mercy – on repeat.

It’s messy. It comes, and then it goes.

And through it all, God is good.

If grief is hovering in your life right now, or you expect it will be soon, please know that you’re in good company. Stay connected to people who care about you.

If you have a loved one going through grief, trauma, or an anniversary of either, you have the power to make a caring difference. Here’s a great article to start you off in the right direction, with specific, simple, and powerful steps you can take to provide real and lasting support.

Keeping all these things: A season of quiet

August 20, 2020 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Fulfilling Life, Growth & change 4 Comments

I’m a one-woman word processor. Words are my way to make sense of my thoughts and ideas, fears and disappointments, hopes and joys.

Just ask my husband.

Articulating my experiences in the right combination of words brings me deep satisfaction. And sharing with others feels second-nature. Posting, blogging, commenting, replying.

About a year ago, as I grasped at a new idea — one that I thought could help others — a dear friend startled me with her advice.

It’s okay to be quiet.

She reminded me of Mary. The one who gave birth in a stable and then was visited by shepherds who told her that she was part of a heavenly plan. A plan for the world’s redemption. And what did Mary do?

She “kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart.”

If anyone had words to share in this moment, it was Mary. She no doubt had some engaging content. Of course, she couldn’t start a group text or post to social media. (Much less use a Google map to help poor Joseph find Egypt.) But I do believe her quiet was intentional.

That day, I decided to keep my idea — and this verse — in my heart. To personally prioritize contemplation over communication.

And as time has passed, I now find myself more present with my family, more able to read, pray, or listen to a podcast. I am less likely to be emotionally derailed by a reckless social media rant or overwhelmed by a long list of notifications and unread messages. I’ve even embarked on an online class for mindfulness-based stress reduction.

Life still has ups and downs. Our house is as likely to have laughter and fun, as frustration and tears. I have a heart for the hurting and the marginalized, and I’m driven to act. Work gets overwhelming sometimes. The cooking and cleaning gets ignored sometimes. Pandemic life tantrums (including mine) still catch me by surprise.

And I will always be a compulsive communicator. Just ask my husband.

But experiencing the struggles and celebrations of each day — without a drive to capture and share every reflection — has become a gift.

And in this season, I’m happy to keep most of these things in my heart.

Navigating the weirdness of WFH

March 24, 2020 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Thoughtful work, Work from Home Leave a Comment

In November 2018, work from home (or WFH among the initiated) was completely new to me. I knew it was coming. I was excited for the flexibility I would gain. And it was very, very weird.

As I look around and see friends across North America now setting up home offices, in the midst of a global panic that’s also turned our personal lives upside down, I can only imagine how disorienting it all must be.

Truth be told, I mostly spent the first several weeks and months of my own WFH experience feeling like I was doing it all wrong. Little by little I realized what I was doing was actually never wrong, and I’ve instead grown accustomed to a different rhythm in my work day. As I learned to create that routine, I discovered the key was to set expectations that place equal value on delivering value to my employer and team and understanding my basic needs for well being. Finding joy in working from home — especially when the new routine is thrust on you with little warning — is rooted in adopting a realistic mindset.

Realistic truth #1. A “full day of work” in the typical busy office environment totals maybe five hours of solid, focused work product. Maybe. When you work from home, there is no drive to work or between meetings, no lingering stop by the coffee pot to chat, no casual hallway conversations between meetings or catch-up chats from the game or show that aired the night before.

Realistic truth #2. Downtime feels weird because you’re doing things you could not possibly do in an office. Things like folding a basket of laundry, walking the dog, or putting some ingredients in the crockpot for dinner. Yes, this feels weird — maybe like you’re cheating. But it is totally normal. In fact, I schedule my daily work to include these brain breaks. I use a “do this, then do that” mentality that includes work tasks and mini mental breaks to take a walk, make myself a cup of tea, or complete a quick household chore. I have discovered that forcing myself to focus in silence for more than 45-60 minutes at one time is a recipe for frustration and negative self talk. Knowing this, I break up my to-do list and plan for regular, brief breaks. If a more clearly defined timing structure appeals to you, check out the Pomodoro Method of productivity, which uses regular 25/5-minute intervals of work and rest to improve focus, creativity, and output.

Realistic truth #3. Managing a full-time job in a home office rarely affords you the time, focus, or energy to be a stand-out parent during the day. Rather than thinking about working at home, recall the times you’ve had your child at the office when school dismissed early or daycare had to close suddenly. Did you worry about screen time and healthy snacks? No, you survived and kept the peace. If COVID-19 has forced you to work full time at home, while simultaneously parenting your kids, the realistic daily goal is simply to keep them safe. Spend your evenings and weekends engaging in activities you can enjoy together — and during the work days, offer a quick prayer of thanksgiving for the tools and resources you have today to keep them occupied (yay appropriate technology!) while you master your to-do list.

Finally, as weird as working from home can feel — especially in the age of social distancing and quarantine — pay attention if you notice feelings of being lonely or disconnected. Your short brain breaks can be a perfect moment to call a coworker to bounce a few ideas, invite a friend to FaceTime over a cup of tea, or dial up an elderly neighbor to check in.

As you navigate this strange and stressful time in history, nurture a realistic mindset. Set your multi-tasking expectations lower than usual, keep your kids safe (even if that means more screen time than usual), stay connected by voice and video chat to people you care about, and give yourself and the people around you more grace than necessary.

Who are you letting down?

September 16, 2019 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Thoughtful work 4 Comments

I recently guest hosted a wellness-themed #k12prChat on Twitter, which quickly turned into a busy discussion of various approaches to create wellness in a demanding profession.

As the chat was wrapping up, I saw a tweet that really made me pause. As soon as I read it, I remembered a moment a few months ago when I found myself face-to-face with this struggle — and it wasn’t easy.

In February, just a few months after starting my new job, I was invited to participate in my company’s leadership challenge weekend, a program that connects employees with company leaders, as well as team members across the country. One of the three days we met included reviewing confidential feedback from colleagues who we asked to complete an online leadership inventory prior to the challenge.

If you’re like me, you immediately page through a report like, looking for comments. (Who has time to decode data bars and Group Norm indicators when there are juicy bits of narrative to read?) But as I skimmed through kind praise and positive reflections, my eyes suddenly stopped on a single comment from one of my 10 reviewers, under the “Follows through on commitments” category.

Cue silent freak out: I got ranked down on commitment. I’m not committed enough. I’m not as valuable an employee as I could be. I’m letting down my team. I am letting down the world.

As my thoughts unraveled, I fought to pull myself back to center. (Brene Brown readers will notice this was a textbook shame spiral.) Even the mildest of criticism is hard to swallow when it hits in a place of such great vulnerability.

The weekend wrapped up, and I headed home. A long sit in the San Diego airport allowed me time to decipher the bars of data and Group Norm indicators — which is when I noticed that the lowest score I got on the Commitment category was a 7 out of 10. I found no shame in that. I also remembered that all those who completed the leadership inventory were people I knew and trusted, making me certain that the comment was never intended to be mean.

As I reflected and shared the weekend experience with a few others over the next few weeks, I realized that few things affected me more personally than that comment. But each time I shared the comment — with my husband, with a close friend or two, and eventually with my therapist — I realized that it was far more triumph than failure. After all, I had tried for a solid two years to put my family first. Maybe this is how it looks.

Eventually, I reworked my understanding from letting the world down to ensuring my job doesn’t force me to let myself or my family down. And that, my worried friend, is the importance of boundaries.

Fact: We are master jugglers in life. There are at least a half dozen balls for work, plus balls for our family, our friends, our own wellness.

Fact: We can never juggle all of them, all of the time.

So perhaps instead of asking ourselves who we might let down now and then, we remind ourselves that we’re at our best when our job leaves room for what matters most. And that begins with an honest conversation with your boss about healthy professional boundaries.

This post was first published as an e-mail to the #k12prWell distribution list.

Honey, a funnel, and trauma

August 7, 2019 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Fulfilling Life Leave a Comment

If you didn’t already know, I’m a big fan of psychotherapy. Call it going to a therapist, a counselor, or a shrink. I don’t care about the name; the benefits are what matter.

It’s been awhile since we realized our family needed help finding our way back from a very painful year in 2016. We have since had a lot of therapy — sometimes individually, sometimes together. I’d estimate I have personally attended 17,500 therapy sessions, if I combine my own sessions with the ones I’ve attended with one of my kids, or with my husband. (Actually, that’s probably an exaggeration.)

But the dozens upon dozens of sessions have taught me so much — and they have ultimately led me to try to support others. Help them listen to the wisdom of their bodies. Help them understand the trauma the nervous system navigates on a regular basis. Help them make their wellness a priority.

Think of the last time you’ve found yourself…

raising your voice in an argument with a coworker
driving away from a close call or near-miss accident
watching a violent video clip on the news
receiving rude treatment from a stranger at the store
witnessing a racist or otherwise hurtful confrontation
hearing troubling news about a loved one
being startled by a sound or buzz coming from your phone
reading a hurtful or upsetting comment on social media

Trauma is part of our daily lives — and it’s often much more subtle than a sudden death, natural disaster, or house fire. Those experiences are objectively traumatic, of course. But small things add up, too. And no matter how small or big, our nervous systems process it all.

Having worked in school public relations, I have felt the small things adding up. Planning for unthinkable crises, softening the blow of shocking news, witnessing otherwise-invisible poverty, feeling the exposure of managing high-profile social media accounts. I’ve felt those small things add to the small things that are simply part of everyday life. And I’ve felt the extra weight on top of all that, from the loss of loved ones (three losses in four months — four losses if you count our sweet old dog), and it’s a lot.

Really, it’s too much.

A day not too long ago, I was transferring my favorite local honey — pouring it from the large quart jar a friend delivers, to the small honey bear that sits on my counter. I knew from experience that if I poured too much, or too quickly, I’d have a mess on my hands. After all, honey can only pass through that skinny outlet so quickly.

And I realized: Our nervous system is like that funnel. In fact, scientists tell us that the human body is hard-wired to release a trauma response naturally, using such reflexive responses as tears, goosebumps, spontaneous deep breaths, shaking/tingling, or brief changes in temperature to regulate.

On any given day, one tiny traumatic moment — a few drops of honey — flows through the funnel easily, perhaps even unnoticed. The messy trouble comes when the trauma is either too large, too compounded, or comes too quickly, for our nervous system to process it.

I learned in therapy that anytime we find ourselves saying …

“too much” … “too soon” … “too fast” … or “not enough” for too long

…we need to pay attention. Our nervous system is overwhelmed, and it needs time to release. And as my therapist likes to say,

You get there faster by going slowly.

The things I’m learning from therapy could never be contained in one blog post. There will be more to come.

But to my school PR friends, not to mention all the moms and dads out there: As you navigate the overwhelm of back to school, I hope you’ll pay attention to your funnel. If it’s full to the brim, it will take time (and patience) to empty. If it’s overflowing into a mess, I feel you. Healing is possible, and a great therapist (or counselor, or shrink) can help.

I’m definitely not a therapist, in real life or online. I owe a deep debt of gratitude to my therapist, Candy Smith, and her practice of Somatic Experiencing, a neurobiological approach to treating psychological distress and the many ways it affects our bodies, lives, and wellness. The compassionate work of Candy and another area SE practitioner has helped me heal, and helped my family heal.

(I share because of how profoundly SE has influenced my sense of wellness, as well as my relationships with family and friends. I receive no monetary benefit from sharing, and I don’t even think Candy is taking new clients at the time I’m writing this.)

If you are struggling, no longer feel like yourself, find yourself agitated or anxious for no apparent reason, or otherwise don’t feel like life can be lived fully, please find a SE practitioner near you or consider other options for professional, trauma-informed support. Healing takes courage and patience, but it is possible — and it is entirely worth it.

Priorities of a Joyful Life (Guest Blogger: Lesley Bruinton, APR)

February 17, 2019 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Fulfilling Life 1 Comment

It was a rainy Monday night, and my daughter hopped in the car after a grueling practice. In the process, she stepped on my brand new book. With. Her. Wet. Shoes.

All it took was a glance at my face for her to know I was not pleased. All it took for me, was a look at her face for me to see that I was about to crush her spirit. I knew then: I had an opportunity.

I exhaled and said, “You are worth more to me than the book.”

In an instant, her face softened. I knew then I had been set free.

So many times we tell our kids to get their priorities straight. And then we stand before others and tell them about our focus: Faith. Family. Then Everything Else. The reality is that it is easier said than done.

The pursuit of happiness won’t bring you what you really seek — joy. That deep-down feeling that all is right with your world. But how do you find joy, when women of today are told we can have it all — only to be reminded of this futile pursuit of perfection when we browse Pinterest boards in search of projects to pin that we’ll never complete?

I want to be viewed as a woman who loves big, laughs loud, and creates beauty. I am choosing to create the life I have always wanted to lead.

Strangely, in the past two months, I didn’t just create more minutes in my day — I created more moments. Instead of lamenting that I don’t have time to do this or that, I decided to be more productive by doing the things I value. I’ve had more time to read, write, create, meditate, pray, visit, laugh, love, and share. (I’ve even slept better, too!)

I gave myself permission to focus on the things I find important, by saying no to things that weren’t — instead of feeling obligated to comply.

Six days after that fateful rainy night, my family’s day was jam-packed with activities for kids. I called an audible and announced we’d take a side trip — to a museum and a yummy lunch spot. Instead of complaining about the long wait, we took it in and enjoyed the time together. That’s when my daughter asked me to take a photo of her.

I am convinced that this is the image I was supposed to see: Arms outstretched, head rocked back, and feet off the ground. That is joy!

We cannot help others or express gratitude with our arms folded. We cannot see the beauty in life with our heads down. We cannot experience joy by dragging our feet.

This much, I know: If I want to experience joy, I must have my priorities right: Faith. Family. And Then Everything Else.

Lesley and I met a few years ago through our school PR connections, and this awesome little thing called #k12PRchat. As our friendship has grown over communications strategies and best practices, so has our connection around living our best lives, without excuse. When we started texting about the new book that got stomped on, I knew there was a guest blog waiting to happen.

Lesley took her daughter’s photo at MELT, an Alabama restaurant where restaurant goers can pose with the angel wings mural. Follow Lesley on Twitter here.

Nothing is ever the same

February 10, 2019 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Fulfilling Life, Growth & change 7 Comments

“Everything we know is going to change.”

I will never forget my husband’s words. Although I can’t remember exactly what prompted them, I remember where we were standing. And I remember that he was focused and serious.

It was 2016, and a month or two after colon cancer had taken his 39-year-old twin sister. My one and only twin-law. We were in the kitchen, and it was a short conversation. But his words still ring in my ears, nearly three years later.

Everything is going to change.

The intensity of his eyes and voice were unmistakable; I took note. And I fought the urge to understand exactly what everything is going to change might mean to my nicely engineered life of job and husband teaching and kids growing and summer trips to the lake. Somehow, I resisted the temptation to figure out this passing prophecy. And somehow, I wasn’t afraid.

Today, I can’t help but look back at three years navigating. We have steered through grief, joy, loss, gain, fear, faith — change — and I realize now that I never could have understood the details of those kitchen words in 2016. But, indeed. Everything has changed.

We are growing. The kids are bigger. Our courage is, too.

We are letting go. Of the trap notion that our value comes from what we do — how much — and how quickly.

We are healing. With therapy, self care, and more grace than I can possibly explain.

And while we still live in the same house in the same town — with the same carpet and kitchen appliances that I pray will change soon — nothing is the same.

Emily taught me a lot, both before and after she died. She taught me to get excited about little things. To laugh too loud. To mildly annoy others with how many pictures you take. To trust God with everything. To live a life of loving others.

And whether I learned this from her, or from her passing, Emily also taught me to find happiness. Not to settle. To allow for change. To pursue what’s best for my family, without feeling compelled to explain.

She taught me to accept that everything can — and sometimes should — change. And most importantly, she taught me that the pursuit of uncommon wellness is always worth it.

In this spirit, I hope you’ll keep your eyes open for a new focus on my website. I’m going to start sharing more about the life I’m leading, especially my passion for authenticity, vulnerability, courage, and, of course, health and happiness. I’ll invite you to help me explore how kindness and compassion transform our lives. Together, we’ll navigate a path to live our best life and help others do the same.

We’ll weave it all together with laughter and love — and all the space needed to create uncommon wellness in this crazy and wonderful life.

Everything is going to change. And it’s going to be good.

Work. Live. Be Well.

February 10, 2019 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Uncommon Wellness 1 Comment

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

It was a fair question to ask in a job interview. I was 26 and had my entire adult life ahead.

My answer, “I don’t have any idea,” was just as honest as it may have been ill advised. But he smiled.

I went on to explain that, five years prior I could never have predicted I’d find myself sitting with him at the country club in a small city in central Kansas. So how could I possibly imagine myself five years into the future?

In the nearly 20 years since that interview, it’s become clear to me that he smiled because he knew. Late in his own professional life, he knew a career could rarely be predicted. The opportunities, the barriers, the changes. The nearly constant need for adaptation. He probably knew life’s twists and turns, as well. Relationships, marriages, divorces. Baby showers and funeral dinners.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned since then — as someone who cares about both work and family — it’s how to juggle. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned about this juggling act, it’s that some balls can drop — and others can’t.

When there are too many balls in the air, what do you let drop for a short time? The e-mail replies, the extra project, the laundry folding, or department meeting? Or do you drop the lunch date with your aging parent? The unexpected chat with your teenager before school, or extra toddler snuggles before bed? Do you drop making your own health a priority, cutting back on sleep, physical activity or nourishing food?

The more I saw myself as an overloaded juggler — deciding which balls would fall, and which would continue to get my focus — the more I more clearly I began to see what I now call uncommon wellness. What does it mean to be uncommonly well?

It means investing in your health holistically — body, mind, and spirit.
It means understanding how to use the time you have, for the things you want most.
It means setting (and enforcing) clear boundaries that put you and your family, ahead of work.
It means never apologizing for sick days — mental health days — or vacation days.
It means watching for signs that you need a walk, or a breather. And then doing that.
It means feeding your body the food it needs to be strong and healthy — and enjoying a favorite treat without shame.
It means speaking your truth with conviction. Even when it’s hard. Especially then.
It means treating your gut well, knowing that it affects the rest of your health and happiness.
It means knowing when to let go of unhealthy work, habits, and relationships.
It means making the time to connect and laugh with people you care about.
It means listening to your intuition — and trusting what it says.
It means only saying, Just living the dream!, when you are, indeed, living your dream.
It means knowing your true worth as a human is not tied to what you do — or how much.
And it means the certain belief that your wellness makes you a better employee, parent, spouse, friend, and neighbor.

This has been a learning process for me, a focus that has taken up firm residence in my life since I began to pay attention. It’s a path of reflection and small daily action — certainly not perfection. And it’s available to anyone willing to join me along the way.

And I hope you will join me. Because once you begin to experience uncommon wellness, you realize it’s worth each and every sacrifice required. Your friends and family deserve the best you. And you deserve it, too.

It looks like home. But where am I?

February 9, 2019 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Thoughtful work, Work from Home Leave a Comment

“You sound disoriented,” a friend said.

And three months into my transition from going to the office, to working from a home office, it was the perfect word.

After all, time is a funny thing. And there is a strange sensation that comes with choosing how to spend your time, especially after 12.5 years working in school public relations. It is a wonderfully fulfilling and creative profession that delivers challenges by the moment. Something new, every day, feels like triage at times. And for me, most days felt largely defined by the shifting demands that popped up.

The last three months, waking up to no e-mail messages (or work-related texts, or social media notifications) has been an adjustment. Each morning, I get to choose where to start. And, each morning, I have to choose where to start.

That can be overwhelming.

“I was so used to fitting a lot into the cracks of my day,” I told my friend. “And somehow, even though I have more time, suddenly I feel like I don’t have enough for all of it. I have more time and less time, at the same time. It makes no sense.”

Disoriented indeed.

My challenge in working remotely is to find fulfillment in my work day. A sense of accomplishment, forward motion, and value to my employer. This requires orienting to the time in a day, in a totally different way. Here are three things I’ve found that help:

Time blocking. Without the daily meetings and office drop-in visits, I can largely control my day. Blocking time for short- and long-range deadlines helps me know exactly how to spend each hour of my day to ensure I’m making progress. This scheduling process also ensures I’m focused on high-priority tasks, and not the little, low-priority work that can inadvertently gobble up the minutes and hours. I also identify the non-negotiable time blocks (time sensitive deadline, for example) and the flexible time blocks (I can eat lunch or take a short walk any time). This helps me quickly see exactly where I can give and take in a day.
Personal development. Try as I might, I can’t always drum up work assignments or deadlines. But no matter what a day may (or may not) bring, I can always focus on growing as a person and professional. It is well worth it to set aside an hour to read a professionally useful book or connect with a colleague to discuss big ideas unrelated to a specific project. Setting aside time for personal development was often a goal in my school PR days, but it was rarely reality. I am grateful for the chance now to make up for lost time, and have even kicked off a long-distance book study with a few colleagues in my new job.
Grace and flexibility. Whether you work in an office, or from home, some days are better than others. Remembering that is key, especially in a day in the home office that feels like nothing more than a series of fits and starts. I have found the best months are planned one week at a time, with the room to adjust as needed each day. And challenges certainly still come up without warning, even outside of school PR. Grace and flexibility are the tools I learned long ago to help me adapt, think on my feet, and clear my schedule to meet those moments head-on.

As the weeks and months pass, I know the ebb and flow of my work days will become more familiar. In the meantime, I’m enjoying the process of adjusting to the curious marriage of both discipline and flexibility that are required of working from home.

But really, this process boils down to investing in my own growth. And that’s a win-win, in any job.

Ending. Beginning. Living.

November 5, 2018 by Kristin Magette Filed Under: Fulfilling Life, Growth & change, Thoughtful work 14 Comments

I’m better at beginnings than endings.

Which is why I’ve been staring at this screen for days and thinking about it (actively ignoring it) for weeks.

Because there’s something about saying goodbye to an incredible 12 years working in school public relations — that leaves me speechless. (Never mind that my next job has the word “writer” in the title. And suddenly I have no words.)

Looking forward makes so much sense. It is opportunity. Adventure. Uncharted paths. No details, just broad, beautiful brush strokes.

But looking back is different. It’s a painting with broad and narrow strokes. Dots and lines. Shadows and light. It’s both subtle and loud, at once.

It’s too complex for words.

“But you’ve learned so much,” I tell myself. “You’ve connected with so many. This work has changed your life. Find the words. Write them down. Document.”

It’s true. School PR has changed my life. It’s given me purpose. It’s given me an identity. It’s given me an incredible community of friends who feel like family. It’s made me a better human.

As months became years, school PR became a profession I loved, deep in my soul. A personal calling. The chance to create positive systems and programs that help kids and families. The opportunity to leverage new tools and elevate authentic engagement. Caring for all students and grappling with the issues of cultural competence, from race and religion to the gender spectrum. Doing right when faced with sexual assault, violence, drugs, suicide, mental illness.

If public education is the nation’s guardian of an informed electorate — democracy — then school PR is the conscience that listens, sees, guides and seeks to solve. As practitioners we are at our best, behind closed doors. Wrestling with the most difficult, uncomfortable but impossible-to-ignore problems that society faces. Because those same problems live right here, in our schools and communities. And our students deserve our very best, every day.

My love for this profession runs deep. And it swallowed me whole.

It isn’t easy to admit that last part, mostly because many people probably saw someone who looked at the top of her game. It’s hard to share that my fierce love for this work eventually let me down. That my therapist told me I likely wouldn’t be entirely peaceful and well, so long as I was managing a social media community. That the years of life-and-death political advocacy burned me up. That I cared too much.

I’m guessing my school PR friends can relate to the feelings of overwhelm and burnout that brought me here. The feeling when you know you care, too much. Of surviving to bring the good fight, for one more day.

But this I know: Life isn’t about surviving. It’s about living.

To my school PR friends … I hope you will use boundaries and self care to be well, and keep serving. This profession needs people like you. The world needs people like you, doing this work.

And with that, my new beginning. It will be about seeing my husband and kids more. It will be about being just a mom at school. About snow days without burden. About July and August without the stress of trying to launch that space shuttle we call Back To School. And about school board meeting nights without, well, school board meetings.

Don’t get me wrong: I will always love school PR. And there isn’t a thing on that list, or even over the last 12 years in this work, that triggers regret or resentment. (Well, not counting two complete website migrations in under a year. Ha.)

But it is time to say yes to something new. It is time to listen to friends who have encouraged and nudged me forward.

It is time to rediscover my joy.