Disruption as Opportunity for Growth

My new dog waiting expectantly for a treat. Credit: Myka Kennedy Stephens

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Disruption. This word has been popping into my head frequently over the past few weeks as I’ve reflected on what’s happening in the United States and the world. Through my lived experience, I am convinced that disruptions present us with an opportunity to grow. I first explored this in a brief post on LinkedIn, and since then my thoughts continued to develop and deepen. So here I am, writing about it some more.

Disruptions come in many forms; some cuter and furrier than others.

My current, personal disruption: a middle-aged beagle mix that I willingly brought into our home in mid-February.

Anyone who has known me for a long time will tell you that I am not a dog person. I have firmly been in the cat person camp for decades. I have lived with a cat for most of my life. I enjoy helping friends by taking care of their cats when they are away from home. Curling up with a good book, a cup of tea, and a sleeping cat on my lap is my idea of a relaxing evening.

Dogs bark. They smell different than cats. They run and jump and chew (I guess cats do, too). They lick you. And they don’t use litter boxes.

Also, I’m a librarian by training and I make things out of yarn. If I cater to stereotypes, then I’m almost required to be a cat person. Everyone knows that cats are synonymous with knitting and books.

The question you’re likely asking at this point is, “Why did you adopt a rescue dog?”

The answer is both simple and complex.

Simply put: I found myself pining for the companionship of a dog.

Disruptions and What Soothes Us

It started over a year ago when I took our foreign exchange student to visit an acquaintance with therapy dogs after her grandfather died. Her parents discouraged her from interrupting her exchange year to come home for his funeral and she was missing home in a deep and raw way. In that dark period, being around a couple of friendly and empathetic poodles visibly soothed her in a way that the comfort of our host family, complete with host cat, couldn’t.

Memories of this experience stayed with me and resurfaced in my consciousness when I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder several months later. In my research of treatment options and tools that assist with managing PTSD symptoms, having a canine companion emerged as something that could be extremely helpful for me. As I work on physical healing as well as emotional healing, a dog would provide me with a reason beyond myself to be more active. A dog would be a presence by my side that could confirm or deny the possibility of danger. A dog would offer me a point of connection in the present moment and in the world around me when my instinct is to freeze and withdraw.

The process to apply for and get matched with a trained psychiatric service dog is excruciatingly long. In my case, it would have likely been more than two years. I imagined and hoped that by then the worst of my PTSD symptoms would be easier to manage. After discussing at length with my therapist and my family, it seemed that the general benefits of bringing a dog into my home and work life sooner outweighed the need for a specially trained service dog that could accompany me in public. And so, while I waited for the application window for a service dog to open, I began looking for a dog that would make a steady and reliable companion.

Inviting Disruption

It took months of research, watching rescue listings, and talking with dog people to arrive at the day when we went to meet the dog that would become mine. I looked into his eyes and saw a reflection of the array of emotions I was experiencing: excitement, hope, anxiety, sadness. I felt myself begin to freeze. The decision to adopt him and bring him home was a moment—a split second following a deep breath and a conviction to trust. Trust that we would figure it out, trust that I was prepared in all the ways that mattered, trust that it would turn out alright.

This conviction to trust was not entirely misplaced, however, bringing this new dog into my life was a disruption that I couldn’t fully fathom until I had experienced it. I cried for the better part of a week after bringing him home. Suddenly, I am required to wake up at the same general time every morning and take the dog for a walk: his morning constitutional. I can’t leave the house without planning at least two steps ahead to determine what kind of treat, and how many calories it is, that I will use to entice him into his crate and how long I may be able to stay away before needing to get home to let him out. I’m no longer able to remain absorbed in my work for hours on end since I’m now interrupted to take the dog out every few hours. My cat has retreated to spending most of the day in the basement and I’m convinced he will never forgive me for bringing this intruder into our home.

And then there’s the barking. Barking at anything that moves outside the window. Barking at lights reflected in the window. Barking at the cat sneezing. Barking at anyone who calls out in the house. Barking at the doorbell and the garage door. Barking at anyone who approaches me. While this behavior is getting better, my startle reflex is still occasionally triggered and I tip over the edge into a fight/flight/freeze reaction. This is not what I had in mind when I imagined how a dog might help me with managing my PTSD symptoms.

Disruption’s Invitation

On the other hand, this disruption that I willingly brought into my home and my life has presented me with some opportunities that have helped me to grow. The fact that I’m prevented from getting too hyperfocused on work is helping me to stay attuned to my surroundings, which does contribute to me feeling more grounded in the present. As nerve-wracking as sudden fits of barking can be, I’m starting to see this as an invitation to take a deep breath and reconnect with a sense of calm that I can then pass along to my dog to help him see that not every squirrel is plotting to overtake our house. And when he looks up at me with eyes that tell me I’ve been in my head too much, I’m learning to push my chair away from my desk and welcome his eager jump into my lap, when I can’t help but laugh a true laugh as he leans in and insists on chest rubs and head scratches.

While adopting a rescue dog is a disruption I sought out and welcomed into my life, not all disruptions are invited or welcome. Experiencing the death of a loved one, surviving a traumatic event, losing a job, ending a relationship—these are all disruptive change events that we often have little control over and can be incredibly difficult to reconcile. When trust is damaged, access is impaired, and communication breaks down, we experience disruption.

Any time we are forced to change course, we experience disruption; and we are given an opportunity to grow.

Disruptions invite us to assess what matters. What is truly important? What are my priorities? Do my priorities need to change? What do I need? What do those who depend on me need?

Disruptions invite us to notice where we are. What is happening around me? What can I see, hear, smell, touch, and taste? Which of those things can serve as an anchor, a grounding point, something that I can return to when the change gets to be too overwhelming?

Disruptions also invite us to consider new ways of thinking, new approaches to problem solving. Once we’ve identified what we need and what’s truly important, when we’ve found the thing that can anchor us when everything around us is unfamiliar and chaotic, we might see that there’s an opportunity to introduce our own disruption. Something that disrupts the disruption, something that redirects and focuses the chaos, something that converts destructive energy into a creative force.

Margaret Wheatley writes about the Chaos Cycle in her book Who Do We Choose to Be?. This cycle begins with a profound loss of meaning but it is essential to spark transformation and growth. Significant disruptions often trigger a profound loss of meaning, the result of which is disorienting and troubling. And yet, on the other side is an invitation and an opportunity to grow, to introduce positive change, to create new meaning and receive clarity on who we are and what is truly important.

What are the disruptions that you’re experiencing inviting you to reconsider? What opportunities are opening for you to grow? One way or another, the disruptions we experience will transform us. Let’s take this opportunity and choose to be transformed in life-giving ways.

Invitation to Further Conversation

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If you’re experiencing disruption and would like a safe space to process what this means for your professional wellbeing, you might consider working with me as your coach. Book a free chemistry session to learn more.