On the value of pressing the 'reset' button

Or: What the Washington Wizards revealed to me about life

The big sports story in Washington today is that the Washington Wizards have essentially blown up their roster over the past few days: Trading away stars Bradley Beal and Kristaps Porzingis as they look for a fresh start.

In doing so, the Wizards will almost certainly get worse before they get better. Which is the point. By being bad, the Wizards will get high draft picks that should eventually make them competitive again.

It’s a sea change from the approach the team had taken for much of the last decade — content to be in the middle of the pack (neither bad nor good) and either narrowly make or narrowly miss the playoffs.

That strategy had little chance of long term success. Being ok meant middling draft picks. Trapped in a cycle where winning 40-ish games was the norm. The ceiling was low and the floor was (relatively) high. But they were never going to be an elite team doing what they had been doing.

Because I see everything through the lens of me (who doesn’t?!), the Wizards moves over the past few days have me thinking a lot about myself and my experiences over the last 6 months.

Before CNN laid me off in December, I had been working continuously for the past 25 years. I never imagined not working. It was just not in my frame of reference.

And when the hammer fell, it felt like a cataclysm. I felt like an utter failure. Like I had let people down. Like my whole professional image — competent, utterly irreplaceable — was gone.

It was a dark time. It felt like everything I had built was suddenly stripped away. I was lost. At sea.

It was not a good way to feel!

But, time changes things — as people told me again and again during those darkest days.

And I now see being laid off for what it really was: A pushing of the reset button.

The reality was that I wasn’t thrilled in my job. I had been churning out content for years but was wondering what it all added up to, what it all meant. I was in my mid 40s and still doing what I had been doing in my mid 20s.

And, I wasn’t all that great at home either. I was distracted. I was easily annoyed. I was less than present. I wasn’t living up to my responsibility of being a husband and a dad.

To be clear: I didn’t get any of this in the moment. If you had asked me a year ago if I was happy, I would have probably said yes. Ditto if you had asked me if I was doing a good job as a parent and a husband.

I was largely unaware — gliding through my life, year after year, on the same old trajectory. To borrow the Wizards analogy, I was winning somewhere between 38 and 46 games a year — not terrible but nothing to really write home about.

I could have stayed on that path for years. I have no reason to believe I would have voluntarily hit the reset button on my own life. And I would have missed out on so much.

What have I learned by having the professional part of my life blown up?

• That I love writing — and would do it even if no one was around to read it

• That I am stronger than I thought — I can weather a cataclysm like a job loss and still keep going

• That being a better dad oftentimes means just being there and being present for my kids

• That marriage requires careful care and feeding — you can’t just put it on autopilot.

Without getting laid off, would I have realized any or all of these things? I mean, maybe? But I certainly wouldn’t have realized them as quickly as I have. Of that I have no doubt.

I am not saying that blowing up your life — or at least your professional life — is for everyone. It’s not always been an easy road these last 6 months. In fact, at times, it’s been downright hard. And dispiriting.

But looking back over these last 6 months, I don’t think I would change it either. I feel like I am a better person today than I was my last day at CNN — even if the way I got to this point was not, initially, of my own choosing.

Look. I still worry about what the future holds for me — and for my family. I still get annoyed when an at-bat doesn’t go well for my younger son. I am still a decidedly imperfect husband (just ask my wife!).

But I am also changed — in a good way — because of what happened to me. I am more humble. Kinder. More patient. Better able to see the long view.

Pressing the reset button can be daunting. But I’m here to tell you it can also be rewarding.