Notes from the Messy Middle
Ryan Maxwell was 11 months away from becoming president of his company when he quit. The goal was within reach, but somewhere along the line, something fractured. He caught a glimpse of himself he couldn’t unsee: he cared more about disappointing his boss than his wife. Ryan had spent 23 years in corporate leadership doing what high-achievers do, setting targets, hitting them, and setting bigger ones. He was good at it. The path to president was right there. And then one Tuesday morning, after a run-in with his boss that made it clear where Ryan ranked in his own hierarchy, he knew he no longer belonged there. So he left. He didn’t slow down. He took everything he’d built, all that drive and discipline and relentless forward motion, and poured it directly into his own businesses. They grew fast. Too fast. And in late 2019, before the world had any idea what was coming, the weight of it all came crashing down. Then COVID hit. Then his mother-in-law died in the early days of the pandemic. And then, as Ryan describes it, his entire worldview collapsed. What followed wasn’t a tidy reinvention. It was the slow, disorienting work of figuring out who you are when achievement is no longer the answer. Successful on the outside. Disconnected on the inside. That’s how he describes the version of himself he’d been performing for decades; numb, lost, checking every box that was supposed to lead to fulfillment. It didn’t. Crying Ryan Ryan grew up being called “Crying Ryan” — a nickname that rewired his relationship with himself for decades. He learned early that the path to acceptance was performance. Be what people need you to be. Stay ahead. Don’t let them see you struggle. “I became what I needed to be,” he says, “or so I thought.” That belief drove a lot of his success. It also cost him a lot of his life. One of the things Ryan speaks to most honestly is presence, or the lack of it. For most of his adult life, he was mentally three steps ahead, running calculations, managing outcomes, trying to stay ahead of whatever was coming. He was in the room, but he wasn’t there. “I was so identified with my thinking,” he says, “that I was mentally time-traveling. Missing the tiny, seemingly insignificant moments that make life special.” He watched his wife walk through postpartum depression and realized, with painful clarity, that achievement couldn’t fix what was actually happening. He sat in a church pew one day and felt the full weight of being completely out of alignment with his own life. These are the moments he calls “2x4 moments.” The hits you keep absorbing until you finally stop and pay attention. The Unglamorous Practice of Listen to Himself The work Ryan has done since then is the daily, unglamorous practice of learning to listen to himself. Journaling. Reflecting. Asking hard questions. Naming the gap between who he intends to be and how he’s actually showing up. “What am I protecting right now?” is one he comes back to often. The shift that changed everything, he says, was learning to accept himself. Not perform. Not achieve. Just accept. Once that started to settle, the comparison faded. The judgment of himself and everyone else began to drop away. He named his Substack Chasing Maximus, and the name says everything. It’s not about chasing more. It’s about finding what was buried underneath — what so many sacrifice in the pursuit of success rather than happiness. He still runs businesses. He still has a full life — 26 years of marriage, five kids, two grandkids. But he experiences it differently now. He’s in it. Present. What Ryan’s story makes clear is that the messy middle isn’t one moment. Sometimes it’s a decade of accumulated pressure finally giving way; the slow erosion of presence until one day you look up and realize you’ve been somewhere else this whole time. And sometimes the hardest part isn’t leaving, it’s sitting in the ambiguity of what comes next. “Breakdowns and breakthroughs are inextricably connected,” Ryan says. “What doesn’t kill us has the potential to make us stronger. It all depends on how we make meaning of it.” That distinction is what embracing the messy middle is all about. If this story resonated with you, there are more conversations like this one. Notes from the Messy Middle [https://eringregorycreative.substack.com/podcast] features mission-driven leaders, entrepreneurs, and caregivers navigating the self-led life and building something that actually fits. New episodes release monthly. Be sure to subscribe wherever you listen. Erin Gregory is the founder of Erin Gregory Creative, [http://www.eringregorycreative.com] a strategic communications and brand consultancy serving mission-driven organizations. She writes the Self-Led Life on Substack and hosts Notes from the Messy Middle, a podcast exploring meaningful work, pivots, and the messy reality of building something that lasts. She lives in Columbus, Ohio with her three daughters. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit eringregorycreative.substack.com/subscribe [https://eringregorycreative.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_2]
19 episodios
Comentarios
0Sé la primera persona en comentar
¡Regístrate ahora y únete a la comunidad de Notes from the Messy Middle!