Yardstick of Life

Sheri Lynn Fella

Under the cover of darkness with the crunch of rustling leaves underfoot, I took in the crisp, quiet air while the tiniest glimmer of the sunrise started to peek out. The gratitude for this space and the space that I have created across all aspects of my life over these past two years was seeping out onto my face as a smile. As I walked through my new neighborhood, I felt full of knowing ... I feel in my bones that I am exactly where I need to be, surrounded by the people and life meant for me. I not only feel more possibility coming in all its forms, I feel ready for it while still grounded in today. The now.

On my way outside, I passed the hutch from my childhood and noticed on top of it the yardstick my brother, Brad (aka Bub/Bubbie), gave me a few holidays ago. This isn’t just any yardstick – it is a yardstick from the small-town general store I grew up by – Dike’s General Store. I remember seeing Mr. Dike’s big smile and hearing his warm greeting every single time I walked in to buy a piece of penny candy or bubble gum, or if I was splurging - a Crush soda. Man, do I miss those Marathon bars! I vividly remember the wide plank wooden floors that creaked with each step, the tall wooden walls with the old fashion bins that held all kinds of goods. I remember the yardstick – we used them for lots of measuring of course, but also for tearing gift wrap, making the new notches on the wall tracking our heights as kids, holding up window sills inside the frame, and for the occasional play weapon with my siblings. Yes, that was one special yardstick with all of its chipped, aged perfection. Amazing how even though it was over 50 years ago that scene seems so recent.

Yardsticks have played an important role in my life. Just like the Dike’s yardstick brings back such incredible memories of my childhood and the great fortune I had to grow up where and how I did, yardsticks have kept me striving, kept me growing. They’ve also kept me in self-doubt at times because too often my yardsticks weren’t my own. They came from others in various forms – expectations, shoulds, obligations, etc. As I reflect back, many of my yardsticks were just “what was supposed to happen next” or “what a good girl should do.”

As a kid, my parents set my yardstick – at least most of them, and certainly they set the yardstick of our family values – integrity, work ethic, kindness, accountability, humor to name a few. Of course, my people pleasing, high achievement self also decided that grades were an important yardstick. Having Bub as an older brother, who was a phenomenal athlete, and an important role model in my formative years, taught me that succeeding in sports was another yardstick. And it wasn’t only that my brother was amazing on the fields and courts he competed on, he was amazing off of them. He was fun loving, open, and not ego driven – still is, and he was focused and competitive in positive ways that fueled his success and brought others along with him.

As I watched my big brother and my big family navigate life and each other, I also got to witness the vast array of friends my brother, and especially my parents, had in addition to family. They had friends who were other parents of our friends, high school friends who they still connect with some 70 years later, church friends, small town neighbor friends, sports friends, card friends, work friends, camping friends ... I saw early and often how important relationships were through the multiple lenses of my family so my relationships became a yardstick. Which is why changing this yardstick throughout my life has been so very hard to do without feeling guilt, shame, failure, etc., and yet – for me – it has been the yardstick that was most important to my own growth.

When I was off to college and six plus hours away from my childhood and thrust out into the world away from those familiar yardsticks, I started finding my own. Many of my first yardsticks were grabbed as reactions to what was happening around me. In college, grades certainly still mattered as did sports, given I earned a volleyball scholarship, but other things started to become important too. How I was dressing, who I was dating, how I was taking care of myself all those miles from home, what I was studying, what kind of career I was creating, and my friend yardstick blossomed with new people and shrunk in terms of my circle back home.

I was recently at my alma mater, Bowling Green State University (BGSU) for a volleyball alum weekend. We were celebrating the 35th anniversary of our first ever conference championship that happened in 1989 - my senior year. Hard to believe that I landed in Bowling Green, Ohio, 38 years ago. Driving into town and walking on campus was as foreign to me this weekend as it was in 1986. There has been so much change, but the energy of it was still there, especially when I am around my teammates several of whom are still my most trusted sisters in life.

Back then, almost 40 years ago, college was a radically different experience. There were no cell phones, no social media (thankfully or I’d likely never have been employed), and it was for the most part a totally autonomous, independent experience. Not only did I not see my friends and family back home for almost six months, but I also barely talked to them because long distance calls were expensive, and I couldn’t afford that kind of luxury. My bestie, Jebba K, and I were reminiscing this past weekend with the current players about how we couldn’t wait to get mail. To get homemade cookies delivered (no Amazon, Grubhub or Uber existed) or to get a handwritten card or letter, and how we kept that mail and reread it until it fell apart. Those mail deliveries were yardsticks too – they assured us we were still loved, still remembered – even though we were out of sight, we weren’t out of mind. It is why I still send hand written cards every week.

As a very introverted, awkward 17-year-old, country girl tomboy, BGSU was for sure the most transformative four year span of my life. There has been no other span of four years when I have transformed so much. Not through my divorce, not through my career, not through my trauma recovery, not through the twists and turns of my family or even through owning my own company – my most intense period of adult development happened in that small town of Bowling Green. I am so grateful for BG, for the teammates, friends, professors, coaches and trainers that grew me – and for the ones that didn’t. I learned from them too. And it was all that learning and my passion for learning that changed the trajectory of my life in such important ways.

From BG, a new yardstick emerged connected to my career and deciding what success looked like, but rather than me really determining for myself what my yardstick was, I was still heavily influenced by “others.” I picked my major because it was what BGSU was nationally known for and it would give me the opportunity to land “the best” job. That is when “the best” became a yardstick – one that would fuel me and one that would foil me. Striving for the best has served me well in a multitude of ways, but it took me decades to learn that “the best” wasn’t always needed and in fact, my focus on “the best” often got in my way and in the way of others.

Today my yardstick is mine and mine alone. My yardstick isn’t about being the best ... it is about being my TRUEST self. That I am clear about what I value and that I live those values on the daily. That I continue to dream and act on the possibility and abundance around me, for me. That I am taking care of me. Sure, I care for many others – deeply so, but I am clear now that “caring for” versus “taking care of” are vastly different things. The former I can sustain in a healthy way for me. The later I cannot. Nor is it helpful for the other. As Anne Lamott so wisely wrote, “We need to stop getting our help all over each other.” She’s right – more often than not, our help doesn’t actually help in spite of even the most positive intentions.

My yardstick of life now at 56 is all about my ease and my space and how I want to feel about the person in the mirror looking back at me. I am kinder to that woman in the mirror now. I trust her more than anyone else in my life, with my life, and that took a while ... a lifetime so far. I am inspired by her courage and trust her wise knowing. I see her strength and messiness and value both. No one cracks me up more than she does. She’s still clumsy as hell haha – if only a video had captured my latest fall in this new home of mine. But messiness, falls and all, I am proud of her. For all she has lived through, for how she has lived and learned, and that she acknowledges ALL of her. I love that she loves the life she has created for herself. That doesn’t mean every day is easy – it isn’t. But it does mean that the majority of most days are filled with ease, grace and gratitude. Each day feels meaningful, intentional ... and fun. When I lay my head down now at night ... I am smiling. Smiling because I got to have the day I had, and smiling because I can’t wait for tomorrow.

The picture of me by the river is from January of 2022. I wasn’t smiling so much then ... I was exhausted. My business was thriving, but I wasn’t. I had just marked a big milestone – my company that I built from scratch had turned 10. Until I really carved out some space to exhale in late 2022, I don’t think I knew how tired I really was. I needed help to see that (thanks SH, CTG, KD, AC, JJ, AV and so many others), and once I did see it - I couldn’t unsee it. The weekend of that 10-year celebration, I planned some development time with my team and while we were all gathered in person, I shared with them that I needed a sabbatical.

Some were happy for me and supportive of me. Some were terrified they’d fail if I stepped back even momentarily. And some were worried. Not so much for me, but for the legacy and foundation I built and that I was entrusting its next chapter to folks who weren’t ready to hold it without me. While I expected mixed reactions, I felt like they’d have my back in the end, and I was wrong. How the lack of concern felt, how not really being heard by some folks who I thought were closest to me and that I invested so much in felt ... that broke me a little. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. They weren’t bad people – they had their own stuff that was contributing to their reaction, and still ... that realization really cut deep and woke me up. To my part of how we got there and to theirs. I cannot express to you how hard and excruciating it was to accept, but I did. The time was not right for a sabbatical, but it was right for change.

I was so grateful for my own coach and for the wise sage I had guiding us as a team that week – like so many coaches and guides in my life over the years, they held the space for me and wouldn’t let me not see the reality of the situation I had created. I was also grateful for the coach on my team who knew me least to have the courage to say, “Sheri, you cannot go on a sabbatical. Your team is not ready.” She said it with such clarity and such care for all of us that I heard her and relied on her experience a lot over the next year. Her courage was a turning point - as was the day on the river she spent with me (she took the picture), and so many other deeply personal, transformative times that have emerged since. I am grateful she has remained steadfast as an illuminating teammate and friend, and I wonder often what big UNlearning will come from the personal learning journey we are on together right now – stay tuned!

And so, two falls ago, with the insight and support of so many guides and advisors, I began to make changes to give me the exhale I needed and deserved. Most of those changes involved letting relationships go that no longer served me or the other person. And that letting go, let in so many other people and projects and life that filled me up. I embarked on a whole life letting go process. I let go of friends and business partners, of family members and fake leaders. I let go of revenue attached to clients who no longer shared my values. I let go of what I “should” do with a thriving business and instead began to get clarity around what I wanted as a thriving life.

As I look back on that decision point in the fall of 2022 and all the letting go that came after it, I am so proud of myself and the team and family that is now around me. So grateful for the many wise sages, supportive colleagues and friends who told me the truth every day no matter how hard it was for me to hear. Not only do I now have an absolutely incredible, talented, brilliant, energized team, I have people around me with a shared purpose of impact that is grounded in accountability, integrity, professionalism and fun. The impact we have had in our professional space together over this past year and a half has been phenomenal – the proudest I have ever been. The new opportunities we have opened up for 2025 and beyond are thrilling to consider. The same is true for all aspects of my life – not just my business.

I said at the beginning of this message, that I created space in all aspects of my life and I have. I intensely explored the root of my exhaustion. Yes, it was the travel to multiple cities, week in and week out. Yes, it was the lack of sleep from skipping across time zones. Yes, it was the scope and magnitude of growth in my business and the demands on me it took to hold it. There were lots of things that required immense amounts of energy that contributed to the exhaustion. But what contributed most was that I wasn’t getting fueled at a rate that replenished the energy going out. Yes, I loved my work, still do, and I was drained by the fact that I had zero time to create. That I needed to spend so much time with internal team/business issues that my now experienced, mature team handles with ease. I also did not have space to replenish by spending time with loved ones, or spending time with myself just being. So the lack of energy input for me, was a bigger challenge to hold than the energy output.

This clarity on the root cause of my exhaustion helped me choose my actions forward. Since Bloombase is such a big part of my life, as any business owner can relate, I started there with changes. From that process, I got clarity around who fueled me – based on their behaviors and how they were showing up, or not – and I made lots of choices around how I was going to spend my time and with whom. As we began to get ready to launch the podcast, Threads Unseen, in mid 2023, the urgent need to focus on my own wellness came to a head.

We began the work for the podcast in late summer 2022, and I had noticed shifts in my emotional state and sleep that I chalked up to exhaustion, travel, stress – the usual suspects. As I went on the journey with the Swearingen family through their own trauma, it unlocked a trauma door in me that I didn’t even know existed. The context there is for another time as it isn’t a quick side note ... trauma is complex, ever present and ever changing. The more I learn about my own, the more there seems to be to understand and manage, and that management drove the urgency for me to put me and my wellness first – all the way first. Not in pieces or parts, but from a holistic perspective.

Putting me first in all of my relationships caused a lot of shifts and disruption, and in the end, created space for me to BE the coach, teammate, friend, sister, aunt, creator and writer I have always wanted to be. My full potential in all of the roles of my life are not yet fully realized – if they ever are – but arriving to that final dream doesn’t matter as much as the ride does to me. I let go of folks who didn’t want to be on my roller coaster and in the end, it liberated me, and I hope them as well. I must say that the roller coaster I am now choosing to ride for me feels so damn good.

During all of the change, it rarely felt good at all – there were so many hard turns that gutted me. So many disappointments in myself, and of how others showed up or not, and lots of opportunity for me to practice letting people go with love even when their behavior didn’t deserve it. And even more opportunity to embrace gratitude. I have so many bad asses in my life that I am so grateful for and space gave me time back to fuel them as much as they fueled me. For the first time in my life, I forgave myself on the daily through these changes. I let myself be human and stopped expecting myself to handle every situation with perfection. Forgiveness for me was the most important bridge to my own liberation.

Probably the most challenging change of all was changing how I showed up in my family by redefining what MY family was going to be rather than what I thought was expected of me or what I had wrongly expected of myself. For me to say that my family is no longer the most important thing to me makes me gasp still a little, but it is true. My family of both blood and chosen members is essential to me having a well lived, full of love life – I simply wouldn’t be here as I am without them.  But these past two years have proven to me what I already knew and had been teaching my students and clients for decades – if I don’t serve me, I serve no one. I mean really serve me ... really put me first in every way I could choose. That took time and courage, and in the end, it created the beautiful space I craved. I still cannot believe just how beautiful it truly is.

Now my relational yardstick starts with my relationship with myself. I meet hundreds and hundreds of people every year – I feel so fortunate for that opportunity. And because of the sheer volume of relationships that move in and out of my life, I can’t humanly hold all of them so being intentional about choice in my relationships is critical. I focus now intensely on the relationships that fuel me and that yes accept me as I am and always see my potential to grow deeper and reach higher. And I choose those relationships that want the same. My inner circle got smaller and more fueling for me.

I used to say that old friends are the best friends. I am blessed to have so many “old” friends in my life, but they aren’t the best because we have stood the test of time, we are still here in this life together because we have chosen to ride the rollercoaster of life together – we have grown together or at least encouraged each other’s growth in all the ways we could. That is who I choose for my life now. Those people who are owning and choosing their lives – new or old.

Each time I chose myself and my values, I got a little more space, a little freer. I exhaled with a little more ease – even when there were tears of loss or hurt. In time, I changed. I changed my focus and my vision. I changed my team. I changed my inner circle. I changed coaches, advisors, and my focused area of growth. I changed my home, my neighborhood, my car. I changed financial partners, creative partners and I changed my yardstick of what success at Bloombase meant to me now versus when I started it almost 13 years ago. I knew all of that change was right for me and it was solidified when I turned down an incredible offer to buy my business. I didn’t say no because I had anything else to prove. I had accomplished so much more than I ever imagined when Bloombase began. I turned it down because I feel like I am just getting started in many ways and that is thrilling. I said yes to me and whatever I decide is next.

Over the last few months, I have been talking to leaders about how leadership is a roller coaster with so few straight aways. In the current age of leading, we as leaders are either making the climb up the hill anticipating the thrill of the view at the top, or we are screaming downhill fueled with excitement for making it over the top of the latest challenge, and then with little to no warning we are thrown into a gravity defying corkscrew turn, often upside down causing disorientation, and then just for a moment we get to catch our breath before the next climb begins. We are all leaders. So, doesn’t that feel like your life? Lots of uphill and downhill, lots of unexpected twists and turns that test your meddle, and then … from time to time ... we get a few straight aways. That feels right to me.

So what is my yardstick for that roller coaster that is my life? I spend a lot of time now focused intensely on how I want to feel and what good I want to do in the world.  My yardstick is breathing ease in and out. My yardstick is showing up as intentionally and presently as I can. My yardstick is choosing that rollercoaster every damn day especially on the days I know the turns are going to be harder than usual. My yardstick is about impact ... positive impact for me and everyone who chooses to be in my life. And I am currently adding the yardstick of book author ... more to come on that next spring.

These last two years weren’t as transformative as 1986-1990 at BGSU ... but they were damn close.

Here is my mantra to myself ... which feels especially important as the holidays approach and a new year appears on the horizon – “serve me”. That’s it. “Serve. Me.” If I do that, I serve everyone around me in a more positive, sustainable way. Give yourself the gift of you this holiday season and make choices by your own yardstick. Serve you. I think Mr. Dike would be very happy to know that his yardstick is still being put to good use.