LINDSEY BOGGS years of marriage. So I brought him to the conference and we were put up at the Ritz-Carlton for the three-day conference and then left for Carmel, CA. Since I felt I had to capitalize on the recent Gary Vaynerchuk encounter( real-time, folks), I ended up working on my entire anniversary trip. Friction escalated greatly and to this day, I cannot look at the fake smiling photos we took in Carmel.
From there, I traveled even more frequently, and from mid-August to late September, I was gone every single week. I hardly knew what my children were working on in school, my husband and I grew further and further apart, and I was only home long enough to do my laundry on the weekends and then head back to the airport early Monday morning. I didn’ t even make an effort to be present when I was home because it became too exhausting to try. My photos that I put out there were sure fun to look at, though— always had a smile and a witty statement on my Snapchats.
Then, on Tuesday, September 27, 2016, my life changed forever. I was in Dallas at a trade show and I got a call saying my sister Melissa had been taken to the hospital for a suspected brain aneurysm. I took a 5 a. m. flight the next day to Washington, DC, and was told upon arrival that there was a 90 percent chance she would die. Ninety percent chance. How could this be? I just talked to her earlier that day.
It took me three attempts to even enter her hospital room upon arrival. All of the machines, wires, tubes— things I want to erase from my memory— scared me to my core. Once I was able to physically walk in the room, I sat with my parents and Melissa for the next three days and played her favorite music— Pink Floyd— while we waited for her to be matched up to people for organ donation. She was a nurse and it was her dying wish to help others, so we helped her fulfill her wish.
On October 1 at noon, my sister Melissa saved eight people’ s lives by donating her organs.
What I realized( and it was probably the most important lesson I learned that year) during those days of sitting with my braindead sister that surgeons and doctors go home every day and think about the patients that they lost— people that died in their care. In my world, I was obsessing over losing a software contract or a speaking gig. It put everything into perspective for me.
Life spiraled downhill quickly from that point forward. Planning a funeral for my one and only sibling was something I never expected I would have to do at this point in my life— she was only 38. On top of all of that, I had just started a new and exciting software sales job at Medallia, and me, the Type A overachiever, expected to achieve top-notch performance and to win right out of the gate. I wasn’ t functioning at full capacity, not even close. I was still traveling a ton, and I missed even more special events at home and became a stranger to my children. My son would cry when I tried to read to him or put him to bed. My husband and I began to question if we were going to be able to sustain the marriage, or what was left of it.
" The problem was that it was all a facade."
It all became too much, and in early December, I went to a hotel’ s 22nd floor balcony and called my husband saying I couldn’ t do life anymore.
On December 14, I was hospitalized for severe depression and sent to a mental hospital for six days. They took my shoelaces, my hairbrush, my hardcover books, my hoodie sweatshirt, my shampoo, and yes, my coveted iPhone. It was exactly how it’ s portrayed in the movies, unfortunately.
Not having any access to technology for six days was another one of the biggest blessings and lessons for me this year. I highly recommend everyone reading this to do a technology detox, and often. And not just your phone— all technology.
So, where am I today? Today, I’ m in a lot of counseling and working with doctors to find the right combination of medicine to fight depression and get me back to full capacity. I’ m working to mend and understand personal relationships and continue to remind myself that I don’ t have people’ s lives in my hand like a surgeon. I’ m selling software, not trying to save a person’ s life. Perspective, people. If you start thinking this way, I promise you’ ll start evaluating life differently. I know I do.
HERE ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT LESSONS I’ VE LEARNED THIS YEAR AFTER LOVE AND LOSS:
• Hug and call your family members often. You never know when it’ ll be your last time. Sometimes unexpected layovers happen for a reason.
• Work can wait. On your deathbed, you’ re not going to wish you had spent more time in the office.
• Remember when you lose a deal or a customer cancels a subscription that doctors and surgeons lose patients daily— PERSPECTIVE.
• Sometimes people are put in your life and you don’ t know why. Be cautious and evaluate if they’ re a blessing or a lesson. This is something I continue to evaluate.
• Work and value your real-life relationships, not your digital relationships. Your real-life relationships are who shape you as a person, not the digital facade you portray.
• Detox from ALL technology often.
• Be authentic and more vulnerable. Don’ t just share the good; share the bad, too.
My experience living with depression and seeing firsthand what goes on in a mental hospital has created a passion and fire in me to do more for the mental health community. Once I recover more, a top focus of mine will be volunteering my time with communities in this arena.
Here’ s to a healthy 2017— both mentally and physically— and to a more authentic, vulnerable self.
In 2016, Lindsey opened up her own consulting business to teach sales organizations social selling practices through Interactive Webinars and Onsite Sales Workshops. In addition, Lindsey provides keynotes for conferences and sales kickoffs throughout the country. lindseyboggs. com
2017 SUMMER 11