I’m a Transition Specialist.

I know because that’s what is on my business cards — which are outdated — and in a suitcase — on a ship — somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea.

Feels like a metaphor for my life right now.

My role is to know things.

Important things like how to move from one country to another without finding yourself curled up in the fetal position, sucking your thumb on your bedroom floor six months in.

I’ve got a whole seminar for that.

Just kidding. That’s not a real seminar.

Yet.

But let’s just call it professional development that in the middle of a global pandemic I chose to uproot my family from a 14-year life in China to a European island . . . somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea.

Here’s the thing . . . Transition strips you bare.

It leaves you raw.

It exposes your deepest insecurities.

Exploits your weakest vulnerabilities.

Challenges your firmest principles.

Mocks your best ideas.

And it pokes your confidence right on the forehead with two fingers and says, “Alright tough guy. What do ya’ got now?”

I know. Because I’m a Transition Specialist . . . in transition.

I’m feeling it . . . in my core.

And yet, in all of the chaos, confusion, and mayhem of rearranging your entire, cushy system for getting life accomplished while upending your sense of community and knee-capping your structures of support — in all of the isolation, and frustration, and irritation, and second-guessing . . .

IF YOU ARE WILLING TO PAY ATTENTION . . .

There is NO BETTER PLACE to learn . . . and if you’re not careful, you might just learn something about yourself.

Here’s what I’m learning this time around

Knowing is ONLY half the battle

Sorry, G.I. Joe. I know you meant well but winning half a battle is kind of like jumping halfway over a pit of crocodiles.

Knowing about transition is critical. So important. It helps and it’s why I do what I do.

It’s reassuring to know I’m not going crazy.

It’s comforting to know I’m not alone.

It’s important to be equipped with strategies and tools.

But it’s not a free pass. Regardless of who you are or how much you know about the impact of transition, you don’t get to escape the pile of turds that comes with it.

Pardon my language. I’m a little raw.

Smooth does not mean easy

Full disclosure — I didn’t learn this one this time around. This transition has not been smooth. This transition started with canceled flights and snippy, Chinese airport personnel telling me I couldn’t use the flights that hadn’t been canceled. It was marked by delays and restrictions and days on hold with customer support and fantasizing that I could turn into the Incredible Hulk and throw buses at people.

That was just getting here.

But every transition is different.

I’ve had others that have gone off without a hitch — smooth rides from take-off to landing and instant, supportive community.

And it was still hard.

Go figure.

Rough does not mean bad

This transition has been the roughest — not unlike what I would imagine it might feel like to be strapped to a professional wrestler . . . and then rolled down a mountain . . . during an earthquake . . . while waiting for customer service to take me off of hold.

And still . . . we found golden minutes along the way. People bent over backwards to help us. We had extra outings and sweet moments of connection even in the middle of the ugliest melt-downs

And this one I love the most — I got to see the resilience and flexibility, that has been packed into my kids through all of the crazy changes they’ve been through, shine like diamonds.

None of this has been smooth — but some of it has been really, really good.

Pandemics are stupid

Anyone want to argue? Anyone?

I dare you.

How about you, key stockholders of the surgical mask or hand sanitizer companies?

I didn’t think so.

This is a mess. So if you’re brave (or crazy) enough to be taking on a global move right now (and I know I’m not the only one), just know that transition is hard on a good day. This one is compounded . . . complex . . . and NOT how it is supposed to go.

Be nice to yourself.

Talk shows aren’t funny without an audience

Am I right?

I mean, if Jimmy Kimmel tells a joke in the woods and no one laughs . . . is it still funny?

Turns out it’s not.

Here’s my point — when EVERYTHING around you changes in an instant you can’t pretend like it hasn’t and expect the same results — something has to give.

Figuring that out is called TRANSITION . . . and I’ve got a seminar for that.

For real. I’ll do that one if I get one taker.

But it won’t be free.

Loving something doesn’t always feel good

I love transition. I really do.

Still.

I love day one in a new country.

I love getting lost and finding my way back.

I love figuring out how the jumbled mess of puzzle pieces lock together, one by one, to reveal an incredible landscape that makes you want to frame it and hang it on the wall . . .

and start on the next puzzle.

Even more than that, I love walking with other people who are doing the same thing.

And sometimes . . . it hurts.

And it’s hard.

And it’s confusing.

And it’s lonely.

And you wonder if it was all just a big mistake.

So tell me one thing you’ve ever loved that hasn’t felt the same.

If you’re in the middle of global transition right now let me encourage you with these words:

ARE YOU INSANE?!! Don’t you know it’s 2020?!! What were you thinking?!!

Now soak it up. Don’t miss the good bits. Hang on tight and let’s get through this together.

If that’s you, drop a comment below.

Vent a little.

Tell us about the golden minutes.

Remind us all that we are not alone.

What have you learned . . . about yourself?