What Happens When You Stop Waiting
Too often, we pause. And we wait for someone else to make something happen for us. Nearly a decade ago, Lauren Adams Lenz was speaking to the design team at Meta. She was sharing the story of her career path and how she had wanted to become a manager. She had shared this goal with her manager, brought it up each quarter, and waited for an opportunity that just wasn’t materializing. Most of us would have gotten frustrated. We might have blamed our manager for not supporting our growth, assumed they didn’t believe in us, or started looking for a different role, on a different team, with a different manager. But Lauren didn’t do any of that. Instead, she had a profound realization: her manager just had other priorities. He wasn’t neglecting her growth or doubting her abilities. But he also wasn’t staying up at night thinking about how to make her a manager. She didn’t blame him for that. But she did stop waiting and made becoming a manager her priority. She figured out what needed to be done, what skills she needed to demonstrate, and what experiences she needed to build. She had a few very clear, specific asks of her manager. And she did the work to get there. This lesson applies far beyond careers. Our priorities aren’t automatically anyone else’s priorities. So at some point, we have to seize ownership of what we want and act on it. At the very end of 2025, I finally did that. I manifested a dream that had been sitting with me for nearly twenty years: I made it to the Sahara desert. When my husband and I started dating in 2006, he had recently organized a trip with friends through Morocco and into the Sahara. His photos of the vast landscape of sand dunes planted a vision in my mind that I couldn’t shake. And yet, twenty years and twenty-some trips to Morocco later, we still hadn’t made it to the desert. There were always obstacles: weather, logistics, babies, time. And it never quite fit into our plans. This year, that changed. We were heading to Morocco for two weeks. The kids were old enough for cold winter nights in the desert and for a multi-day car trip. Instead of blaming logistics or timing, or waiting for my husband to organize the trip, I just made it my priority. I booked hotels and noted what we could visit along the way. Once the plans were in place, everyone else pitched in and helped sort through the details. And then off we went. The Sahara was truly awe-inspiring and unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It felt almost absurd to drive out of town to where the road simply emptied into sand, and then keep going for two more hours through rock and desert until we pulled up between towering dunes. The kids immediately sprinted up the nearest dune and ran back down, only to do it again and again. We all hiked to the top of the largest dune for sunset and a tray of mint tea materialized before us. Then the stars emerged. The night sky completely filled with them. We lay on our backs, gazing up, taking it all in. At sunrise, we crested another dune. Our shadows slowly appeared and grew long as the sun came up, making the dunes shimmer. The dunes spread out before us in all directions. It was almost as if time slowed. Standing on top of that dune with my husband and children beside me, I felt so grounded, grateful, and capable. I had wanted all of this. And rather than waiting, I made it happen. You're currently a free subscriber to Elizabeth Laraki. For the full experience, upgrade your subscription. |
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