For the last ten years, I've been working in service design and civic tech—the space of doing good for others. It's clear that we're living through difficult times marked by constant change, and I believe that 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 go to work, you want your 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 and intent be enough? Will it yield results? People who choose this type of work risk vulnerability. In our vulnerability, we expose some skin, and we can be hurt.

Things don't always work out. We have plans and designs, but those plans don't always materialize into predictable outcomes. The world is unpredictable, and I rely on a design discipline and product work to give me structure and provide a framework—a way to assert some control on 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 chose this work because of my own history, family, and traumas. I want to use my energy to hold up and lift up those experiencing hardship. 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 I don't meet my goals

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

First, we try harder. If I'm applying design thinking to a systemic challenge that could benefit someone in significant need, my immediate emotional reaction is 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 outcomes are not aligning with my position and intent.

Third, we are disillusioned. After trying harder and getting angry, a sadness sets in. Despite all my effort and intent, I still haven't affected change in the world. I haven't gotten what I think is just and deserved.

Three things I need 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 says: "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 very slowly. Some things are very much 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 a default aspect of design. I feel design starts as 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 I feel 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 this immediate sense of urgency and see where I am pushing myself too hard. 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 systems I'm trying to change exist for a myriad of historic and interconnected reasons. The organizations I work for have been given a specific set of goals, and our ability to change any system is limited by the scope of our commitments. Can I operate within that scope?

The activities I take on 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 any company. Once we're participants, we're adults with agency. We choose our level of investment, we choose how we show up, and if we find the large stone in front of us isn't moving, we can walk away from that particular stone.

Meeting the great suffering

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

I hope to hold my value as a compassionate human being in one hand, while the scope and success of my actions as a designer are in the other. Pain and failure may be inevitable when attempting change at scale, but the level of my personal suffering is optional. I have choices.

I hope everyone can take care of themselves.