“Where is that unbridled optimism?” a potential investor asked me. My answer was honest. I explained the unpleasant circumstances my business was in. I responded that right then, I was merely operating on muscle memory, but that I had confidence I’d get it back to where we used to be. And then he stopped calling. At that moment, I realized the importance of having and using muscle memory. To him, it was a bad thing that after a hit, I hadn’t bounced right back to my cheery self. To me, muscle memory is essential.

Our systems shut down when we are really challenged. That’s scary! And not really an option when you’re a CEO. Someone has to keep leading so the business doesn’t literally shut down too. That’s where muscle memory comes in. Everyone eventually falls out of love, whether it’s with their job, their career, or even the person they are with. But it is an important life skill to be able to cope with that, keep going, and then work your way back to where you were before (or maybe to a place that feels better than before).

We all have to do stuff we don’t want to do. Part of life is just doing those things and trusting that soon you’ll be where you want to be. If you can at least fall back on going through the motions of your job then eventually you’ll find your version of “unbridled optimism” again. But, if you don’t have any muscle memory or any motions to go through, your head and heart will never get back in the game.

Anyone who has worked on developing skills in an area where they have talent or interest has probably ended up in this beautiful space I call flow. It’s an amazing place. It feels like there is no effort, no work, you’re just there. And when you’re there you feel like the greatest person in the world. The best dancer, best swimmer, best singer, best whatever. For most of my career, I’ve been able to work in this place of flow — when I was teaching, when I was in sales, and when I started my first business — and I enjoyed it immensely. But when my business hit the aforementioned rut, I lost my flow. I was so spectacularly bummed out. It is still lost. Here’s the cool thing about flow though — it doesn’t just disappear forever. I know it is still there. More importantly, I know how to go through the motions to get it back.

When someone gets a bad concussion their brain gets jostled around, maybe even bruised, and doesn’t work quite right for a little while. That’s kind of what it felt like to lose my flow. I took a hit, got bumped around, and can’t quite grab ahold of flow. I know I’m close. I can almost smell it. I can almost see it. But I still can’t touch it. I know my synapses will heal and I will feel it all like normal again. Until then, I have to trust my muscle memory and go through the motions to get shit done.  Since I can’t access that fun, flowy place right now, some of the seemingly mundane muscle memory behaviors are surprisingly creating some good discipline for me as a professional. I’m getting really strong because I lost that flow.

Any time you work something difficult you come out stronger and better. But only if you do the work. So I expect to be strong as a motherfucking ox in about six months. I hope I won’t have to handle even more. Ideally, the knowledge I’ve gained in this loss will help me to avoid putting all my eggs in one basket and getting that basket dumped out again.

I don’t have any shiny optimism, but I do have my sleeves rolled up. I feel good as long as the job gets done and I’ll still do the work either way.