I work in a beautiful office building in Downtown LA. You enter on the ground level, and take an elevator to a breathtaking “Sky Lobby” six stories up, where you check in with security, a gregarious group of people dressed in suits, before being let up to my office on the 10th floor.  The Sky Lobby is airy and open. There is a mural on the ceiling, a fountain in the middle, and marble lining the walls. Many of my first-time clients comment on how stunning they find the building.

About three weeks ago, I arrived at work as usual and entered the elevator on the ground floor. When it opened on my beloved Sky Lobby, I had to do a double-take.  There was plastic lining the exit from the elevator. The ceiling had been torn out so that the pipes were exposed. The elegant floor tiling had been covered with cardboard.  And as I entered the security area, I saw scaffolding everywhere.

As the next few weeks progressed, the situation worsened. Scaffolding expanded and appeared on the ground floor.  Plastic lined areas of the Sky Lobby. One day, the security guards had to wear hard hats with their suits. And, as you may imagine, I grew grumpier and grumpier with each development. I even entertained the idea of embarking on a search for a different office.

At least – thank goodness – the floor where I work is unaffected. So I’ll stay put for now. But still, it’s hard.

“Your building is a mess,” commented a new client – a far cry from the awestruck compliments I’d previously received.  I frowned and nodded.

 

Sometimes, Things Are a Mess.

In the last few weeks, I’ve come to embrace the construction in my building – if for no other reason than it makes for a superb metaphor.

Because here’s the thing: I’ve seen the building plans, and the construction that’s being done? It’s all in the name of making the Sky Lobby and ground floor entrance even more dazzling than they used to be. There’s improvement in the works.

And that’s true of life also, isn’t it? I wrote a few months ago how most of my clients come to me when they’re in a state of transition – act 2 of a 3-act play, I called it, taking a page out of the book Rising Strong by Brené Brown. Here’s an excerpt from that blog post, which I wrote as an open letter to my clients:

Some days you come in, and you look like you want to lie down flat on the floor, unable even to muster the energy to cry. You come in other days, brimming with hope, ready to take on the world. Many days, you feel full of doubt, and that’s what we explore together. And often, I hold the hope that things can improve, because you’re just not able to find it for yourself.

In other words, when most people reach out to a therapist, they say:

  • I don’t know who I am anymore.
  • I can’t see any way out of this.
  • I’ve never been this scatterbrained or disorganized.
  • Everything is awful.
  • I’m a complete mess.

As for whether things will get better or easier, that’s different for everyone. But what I do know – because I’ve seen it time and time again – is that the renovations stage looks and feels awful. But that just means there’s a work-in-progress taking place, and perhaps the outcome will be something beautiful.

If you were to walk into my office building right now, it might look like total chaos… but if you visit me next March or April, after the construction has finished, you won’t see a mess. You’ll see something new and improved.

And – I suspect – if you feel like a mess right now, if you are navigating a major life change… that’s also the case with your life.