Retreating Forward.

Whenever I get down in the dumps, whether I'm having a rough time with my business, with my wife, with my children, or most-likely with all three, plus the trump government, the dissolution of everything I care about and more, I start thinking about the German invasion of Russia, Operation Barbarossa, in June, 1941.

Though millions died in a short amount of time, many many many of them Jews, I find some comfort in how things unfolded.

As you can see from the map above, from June, 1941 to about September, 1941, the Germans kicked Soviet ass. As I wrote a moment ago, they killed millions and took over an enormous amount of Soviet territory.

The Soviets weren't merely retreating. 

They were being routed.

The Nazis were rolling toward Russia's largest cities, Leningrad, Moscow and Stalingrad, as fast as their tanks could carry them. Leningrad was besieged for 847 days. Stalingrad was almost completely razed. And the Soviet capital was in cannon range of Nazi guns.

The defeat of Russia seemed imminent. Everything was breaking in favor of the Nazis. 

Until it didn't.

Until the Russians held. 

Until reinforcements arrived.
Until massive amounts of materiel and people took effect.

The Russians lost thousands of square miles of land. Millions of people. Their towns, cities, villages were destroyed. They were beaten.

All was lost.

I know I'm just in advertising. 
I know my life is of no importance.
I make dopey ads for a living.

But sometimes, I think, almost everyone feels like the Soviet army in June of 1941.

You've retreated.

You've been decimated.

You're out-gunned.

Hungry.

Weary.

Sick.

Scared.

Surrounded.

There's no way out.

But.

You don't.

You don't give up.

Maybe it's the still small voice.

Maybe it's some previously unknown inner steel.
Maybe it's the hubris of the other guys finally exacting a price.

But instead of moving back, you move forward.

I've been running GeorgeCo., LLC, a Delaware Company for almost six years. I've had my Soviet moments.

Periods where the phone doesn't ring.
Or worse, when it does ring, but the proposals don't get signed.
I've have long bouts of rejection.

Or dashed hopes and assignments that didn't materialized.

Your soul grows deep during these times.

You question your you-ness.

Do I suck?
Did I mis-read the market?
Am I too arrogant?
Did people finally find out that I'm not good. That I'm an asshole.

Retreat.
Retreat.

Bleed.

Bleed some more.

Retreat.

But then, the phone does ring.
A hand shakes yours.

A deal is made.

Work is bought.

Maybe another deal is made.

Another.

Beaten, bearing scars, wary, nervous, doubtful, ever-so-human, you advance.

That's called work.

Redoubling.
Showing up despite the doubt.

That's called work.

And life.