I've been reflecting deeply on something that's been on my mind lately. For ten years, I've been working in service design and civic tech—the space of doing good for others. It's clear we're living through difficult times with constant change, and I believe those of us who've chosen mission-driven work are uniquely susceptible to being hurt when things don't work out.

This isn't anyone's fault. People who choose mission-aligned work are highly principled individuals who believe in things and want to see their actions have a real impact. When you have to work, you want that job to produce meaningful change in the world. But that's not always how it unfolds.

I listened to a Dharma talk this morning titled "Is it enough to be kind?" Given what's been on my mind, my main takeaway was: if I put effort out into the world, will my compassion be enough? Will it yield results? People who choose this type of work expose vulnerability. In that vulnerability, they expose some skin, and they can be hurt.

Things don't always work. We have plans and designs, but those plans don't always materialize into outcomes. The world is unpredictable, and I rely on design discipline and product work to give me structure and framework—a way to apply some control to an otherwise chaotic world. Design tools are powerful, but I think people doing mission-aligned work come with certain expectations: if I do this much good, if I put in this much effort, I should see proportional results. That's simply not how it works.

I choose this work because of my own history, biography, and traumas. I want to use my energy to hold up and lift up those experiencing hardship and trouble. If I have to have a job, I want it to be a good one. But I get attached to results, and that attachment doesn't always serve me well.

The world is what it is, and we're all experiencing change. The places and partners that used to support us are on shaky ground, unable to provide the resources they once could to those choosing service-oriented work.

Three common reactions when we don't meet our goals

When people trying to do good don't achieve their goals, I've observed three patterns:

First, we try harder. If you're applying design thinking to a systemic challenge that could benefit someone in need, the immediate emotional reaction is often to lean in further, thinking additional effort will yield greater results. That's not always the case.

Second, we get angry. When results don't come, I sometimes become oppositional and seek someone to blame for why my work isn't having an effect. I position myself in opposition to the world because the change I'm trying to create isn't happening. It becomes someone else's problem—they need to change because my plans align with my principles.

Third, we get sad. After trying harder and getting angry, disillusionment sets in. Despite all my effort and righteousness, I still haven't affected change in the world. I haven't gotten what I think is deserved.

Three things to remember

If you're choosing to be in this world and do this kind of work, here are three things I'm trying to remember:

1. Have boundaries

There's only so much I can do. The Serenity Prayer captures this: "Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." I don't have to like it, but there are certain things I need to accept. Some things will move slower. Some things are outside my control.

What is my job and role as a designer within this space? I can choose to be an activist—that's valid—but I don't think activism is design. I feel design is a function and utility. I've found greater ability to self-regulate when I maintain boundaries around my expectations and lean in only as far as an individual can to effect change while making good decisions and knowing my limits.

2. Practice self-care

Am I taking care of myself? Am I eating, sleeping, living my life? Am I right-sizing my job and putting it in proportion to the rest of my life? This is basic stuff, but I think it's more pertinent for people who choose this type of work.

Self-care takes many forms. I do woodworking in my spare time, which allows me to step away from the immediate, pressing constraints or what I am most personally attached to. It gives me distance and perspective to put my oxygen mask on and come back refreshed.

3. Remember this is a choice

I choose to do this work. The system I'm trying to change exists as it currently is. The organization I work for has a specific function and ability to change that greater system within the scope of work we've been given. Can I operate within that scope?

The things I do as a designer in this space are my choice. At any point, I can walk away from this work. If I stay, I'm choosing to stay. Nobody is making me stay—not the system, not the company. I have chosen to stay, and that's a choice. Once we're participants, we're active participants and adults with agency. We choose our level of investment, we choose how we show up, and if we understand the rock isn't moving, we can walk away from the rock.

Meeting the great suffering

Going back to that Dharma talk: when we do this work, we are opening to suffering and compassion, meeting the great suffering of the world. What is my response to the suffering of the world? What is the scale of my effort as an individual?

I need to understand that my ethics and principles are one thing, while the scope and sustainability of my activities and function as a designer are another. Pain is inevitable, but my personal level of suffering is optional. We have choices.

I hope everyone can take care of themselves.