The other day someone tried to use my title against me. We were discussing a decision that belonged to another leader. Mind you I had already explained that. Somewhere along the way, the conversation stopped being about the decision and became about my title. She said something like, “With a big title like yours…”
Cue the eyeroll. I knew exactly where the sentence was headed. Apparently, my job title meant I should simply absorb one more responsibility because the person who should give the direction I needed couldn’t be bothered. I kindly reminded the person that my title already reflects the work I do, the teams I lead, the decisions I’m responsible for, and the problems I’ve already been entrusted to solve. Taking on someone else’s responsibility wouldn’t have been leadership and I wasn’t about to be shamed for it. The conversation faded into the background as the noise that it was.
A few days later, during a session with my therapist, she asked me a question she intended for me to wrestle with, “Are you aware that people value you?”. The question settled into the room between us. I knew exactly what she was asking. This wasn’t about whether people valued my work. That part has never been difficult for me to believe, because I earned that. Her question reached for something much more personal. Did I believe there was anything about me worth valuing before I solved a problem, carried a burden, met a deadline, or helped someone else reach the finish line?
The silence that followed answered before I did. And I told you before that my therapist is dope. She pointed out that I obviously believed there was value in me because of the way that I invest in my self-care. She had a point, but I was still at a loss when she asked me to spend the next two weeks documenting what was awesome about me.
Later I told a friend about the conversation. She listened for a minute, and responded, “Can I tell you what I think is amazing about you?” I said yes. I was curious and I knew her question was rhetorical.
She thought for a moment. “You’re one of the safest people I know.” Then she kept going. “You make people feel seen. You notice things everyone else misses. You make people believe they’re capable of more than they thought.” By the time she finished, I wanted to crawl under the nearest piece of furniture. I wish I were exaggerating.
There I was, a woman who has stood in front of thousands of people, defended million-dollar budgets, preached sermons, earned four degrees, negotiated difficult conversations, and somehow the thing that made me want to disappear was someone saying kind things about me. Apparently, my nervous system has a fascinating relationship with compliments.
That moment revealed something I had never put into words. I have a great deal of experience being valued because of what I do. I have far less experience believing I could be valued simply because I exist. My nervous system had been trying to have that conversation with me for months. I just hadn’t learned how to listen yet.
When I reflected, I realized that Saturday mornings had developed a rhythm I never intended. I’d sit on the couch for a minute before heading outside to deal with the weeds. Then I’d look at the clock. Somehow two hours had magically negotiated their release without consulting me. Meanwhile, the weeds were outside making excellent progress. Books that used to pull me into another world began losing their grip after a page or two. The bookmark remained much more optimistic than I was.
Cooking surprised me most. For the past few years I had come to love opening the refrigerator just to see what could happen with a handful of vegetables, leftover chicken, and half a lime. Somehow dinner would emerge at the end, a tasty dinner.. It felt creative. Playful even. Lately I open the refrigerator hoping one of the shelves has a better idea than I do. The refrigerator has yet to contribute anything useful to the conversation. Dinner occasionally becomes toast.
The reflection made me realize that somewhere along the way, my brain had become an air traffic controller. Before I answered a question, it had learned to quickly and adeptly sort through half a dozen others. How much context does this person need? Is this misunderstanding worth untangling? Will directness help here? How much explanation will make this easier? By the time I spoke, my mind had already completed work nobody else in the room knew existed. Eventually those calculations became so automatic that I stopped recognizing them as work. The same thing happened with translation. I became so fluent at anticipating, adjusting, softening, clarifying, and carrying that I stopped noticing I was performing.
The thing is, every nervous system needs a place where it doesn’t have to perform fluency. Mine had quietly started looking for one. It found me on the couch staring out the window, or standing in front of an open refrigerator waiting for dinner to introduce itself, or closing books I desperately wanted to read. Long before my mind understood what was happening, my body had begun asking for a place where it could simply exist.
I’ve thought about that conversation at work many times since then. At first I assumed it stayed with me because someone was being passive aggressive and to be quite frank, annoying. Now I think it lingered because it reflected something I had quietly believed about myself. She had tried to measure my value by everything I was capable of carrying. And although I recognized the measurement immediately, the aha moment came when I realized I had been using the same one.
I pushed back against what she had been trying to do. I’m still learning how to push back against what I’ve been asking of myself.My therapist’s question is still causing me to cringe inwardly. So does my friend’s voice. But together they’ve given me a different question to live with and it is stretching me. Hopefully the cringe subsides soon.
That brings me to you gentle reader, if someone handed you a blank sheet of paper and asked you to write everything that makes you awesome, where would your pencil go first? Would it begin with your accomplishments? Or would it begin with you the human? What would you write?
I am documenting it and I am excited to see how it turns out. Come along on the journey with me.
