Out of the Funk and into Harmony
The Power of Commitment in a World of Chaos
I call it a funk but, let's be honest, I was depressed.
Under the traditional view of success, I had it all: a loving wife, two adorable children, our dream home, a high paying job, a prestigious title, a formidable team, a rental property, a craft beer blog, a fast car, and close friends and family.
I wasn't exactly sad, but I know I wasn't happy.
I was tired. I was anxious. I was restless. I was irritated. I was spent.
I was also clueless. It wasn't something I thought about at all. That's the tricky thing about depression. If you don't recognize when you're in it how can you be sure that you're out of it?
All I know today is that I feel different. I'm happy, relaxed, focused, satisfied, and energized. I'm also grateful for the past version of my self. It was his journey that gave me the understanding of how the descent occurred, and more importantly, how I found my way out.
The Descent
Chaos is the word I explain to my depressive state.
It began with the pandemic. The chaos it introduced is self explanatory. Then our son was born—joining his two-year-old sister. Thirty minutes after giving birth, we purchased a 150 year old brick farmhouse and embarked on an extensive renovation. Politics happened—again and again. At work, I was getting anxious for a new opportunity. I was thrust one. Overnight, I was put into the pole position of a multi-million dollar acquisition. After the renovation—occasional nights and nearly every weekend for two years—we moved. Then we converted our old home to a rental property.
Between the pandemic, a new job, a home renovation, and two small children, there was no consistency, only challenge. Human beings have an incredible ability to adapt. But they have finite resources to navigate change—and I'd run out of them.
The Ascent
I was eating walnuts. One slipped between my teeth where a crown had been removed. I bit down. Pain rocketed through me. If you've had any tooth pain in your life, it was the worst of the worst.
A mild sense of euphoria followed.
That euphoric state was a stark contrast to the pain, but it provided a dose of clarity. That crown was set too high. I'd been biting down on it for years and it contributed to overnight clenching and grinding. My ascent wasn’t solely due to the removal of the tooth but it made me realize that small pains can add up to big problems.
That got me thinking. What other sources of tension could I alleviate? Knowing that iterative change is more sustainable than a compete overhaul, I asked myself: what could I do today that would improve my life tomorrow? I committed to removing the residue of the past few turbulent years—a period of chaos and transition that had taken its toll.
The Theory
When I finally examined my systems, I found ruins. I'd branded my self a "Productivity Wizard" online. Well, the wizard went to lunch and came back four years to an absolute mess.
Patching the old system wasn't an option. It had failed. The world changed. I changed. Something fundamental was missing. So I did what I always do—I overthought it.
The personal development industry has no shortage of advice. Some of it works, but the experience is like having a lock and being given a bag of random keys. There are keys that don't fit at all and others that fit into the mechanism but don't turn. You keep trying, waiting for that satisfying click. But there's no guarantee it will ever come.
You’re left with two choices: try another bag of keys or live with the lock.
My experience solving problems through software taught a more effective strategy. You don't solve problems by starting with solutions—you begin with a deep understanding of the problem. I may be able to find more keys that worked, but I'd be a better locksmith if I could learn to create keys for my own locks.
That's the core problem with advice: keys without knowledge of the locks. There are master keys for many locks and there are keys for specific kinds. When you find keys that work, you grip tightly, afraid to let them go. But what if you could understand your locks well enough to craft custom keys whenever you need them?
I couldn't start with a set of keys. I needed to understand the locks. This project required something foundational—a theory that modeled reality and our ability to modify it. A unified theory of change.
Commitment Theory.
My insight was simple but powerful: human beings are unique in their capacity to create and satisfy commitments. From this observation, the theory emerged, and from that foundation, I developed an approach that would adapt with me and the pressures of the modern world.
Lifesmithing
I call this approach lifesmithing.
Its purpose is to provide the tools to pursue harmony—a state of self characterized by stability, mobility, integrity, and intentionality.
With it in place, I got to work. Over the next year, I accomplished the following:
I shedded obligations, both to my self and to others.
I spent more time with friends.
I listened to the entire Taylor Swift discography.
I invested in sleep.
I removed my phone from the bedroom.
I started writing again.
I unfollowed any content that upset me.
I renovated a rental property with my wife.
I spent more time in happy places.
I stopped drinking alcohol.
I blocked Reddit and Facebook.
I introduced an evening routine.
I stopped using my phone at home.
I stopped watching football.
I started meditating.
I perfected micro-napping.
I started going to bed on time (not early)
I started to wake up on time (not early).
I started reading again.
I started running again.
I got a therapist.
I overcame adolescent trauma.
I discovered my purpose as a healer of systems.
Then I quit my job, and now I'm writing this.
It's easy to see that list as an unsustainable mountain of change. Looking back, it didn't feel like it. All it took was a long series of small commitments.
They say the best products are the ones you create for your self. While I believe I have keys that will work for many locks, I'm more excited to share with you all the ability to make your own keys. I want to share what I've learned about my self and the way in which I view the world. As a healer of systems, I want to help others navigate life and share my insights and ongoing discoveries.
If you're up for it, let's pursue harmony—together.
Let's start lifesmithing.
If you want to keep going, The Architecture of Commitment is your next step.
So much of this resonates!
This is great stuff, Ryan. Looking forward more than ever to catching up!