Tachometer

When Larry shows up oozing respect, takes a careful look around, asks the right questions, gets to the root of the problem at hand, and explains in layman’s terms absent of condescendence I decide he is someone who has earned the right to do more for me.  In this single interaction I have no doubt he will fix what’s broken and have my back.  My son’s free-wheeling approach to procuring contractors for work in our home finally pays off. I’m blanketed in stuckness again; a stranger’s appearance a gift I spot as a relief valve when this, the smallest of clogs, starts to open with the promise of dislodging the dam of my life into a cathartic watershed.

 

My foot is pushing the accelerator to the floor, yet I’m not moving. I’m a dune buggy spinning sand thinking speed will bring traction.  It’s even invading my sleep. This week’s recurring dream is most telling:  I’ve remarried my ex-husband, more miserable than ever, but it’s clear I’ve somehow allowed myself to be coerced into this place again even though I know I don’t want it.  It seems obvious it’s me I have the problem with.  Where has all my confidence gone?

As Seth Godin puts it, it’s easy to be confident when you’re having success:  When you’re bringing in gobs of revenue at work, guiding motivated teenaged over-achievers, basking in the glow of an attentive partner showering you with admiration.  Who wouldn’t be bleeding confidence?  What happens when instead the results of your work are less visible or take years to come to fruition, your child stands on the threshold of his future yet doesn’t know what he wants to be when he grows up, or your partner barely seems to notice you’re around?

I’m fascinated by how easily, how abashedly I allow others to rob me of my confidence, stalling myself in feelings of unworthiness, recusing myself of this inalienable right.  It’s not easy to “be your fabulous self” as my friend Tracy puts it, when the highly engaged audience at the conference loses all energy the minute I start presenting my topic, or when the decision to press for early graduation for my high school senior results in a state of limbo without a job or a plan, or when the former boyfriend I’m embarrassed to admit I still harbor feelings for shows up at a party with someone else fabulous and proceeds to get my name wrong when he makes the awkward introduction.

 

We start to think maybe we’re not so great after all.

 

We all seem to depend on some degree of outward affirmation of our fabulousness to coax our inner confidence out of hiding, but life is not always there to profess this faith.  We need to manufacture confidence and continue to produce it no matter what the environment. So how do we each own our confidence and stand tall when circumstances can cause us to feel like the world is out to get us?

 

I don’t have any magic formula, but what I’ve learned is this:

You’re not always going to be able to exude confidence.  It’s more about striving.  Even when you know you’re walking into a potentially volatile situation, it’s impossible to be completely steeled and prepared for whatever awaits. The only unequivocal certainty is that whatever situation you play out in your head will not happen. Accepting that you may not be able to course correct in the moment as adeptly as you’d like is a kindness you need to grant yourself.

    

One failure doesn’t define you. Standing in front of twenty-five people and putting them instantly to sleep with a boring monologue doesn’t mean every presentation is awful. We’re made up of a multitude of data points and experiences factoring into who we are.  The same is true when we think of the circumstances composing one failure.  You are only one factor in a complex equation, and there is usually a next time to get closer to right.

You’re allowed to feel down when things bomb. When successful advocacy for early graduation for my struggling child creates new challenges I don’t anticipate, I can choose to wallow in this outcome and second-guess myself. Or I can acknowledge the frustrations as I remind myself of the many reasons this choice was the best one to make at the time. No one skates through life getting everything right.  No one should be expected to pretend it feels great when it doesn’t.

Don’t leave love on the table. Even in your darkest moments, those times when you’re embroiled in what feels like a colossal failure, there is likely at least one advocate or champion in the room, someone who knows what it feels like in your shoes, who can see your breath as it’s literally sucked out of you and finds a way to rescue you with a protracted and protective hug.  Take it.  Don’t suffer in silence because you’re embarrassed or ashamed.  It’s amazing how many people want nothing more than to comfort a wounded soul.

When one thing goes wrong it can seem like everything is wrong, leaving us in this place of stuckness as we helplessly watch our confidence ebb. Conversely, when one thing goes right, everything begins to look better and confidence returns. So I’m pausing to change gears, looking for places where I can gain traction, even if it’s only the lowest common denominator inching forward.

 

This is why hope springs eternal for me when Larry does such an impressive job with the entire experience of diagnosing the problem with my oven. When we find someone who brings good into our lives, we latch on hungry for more. I haven’t soaked in my bathtub in several years.  I can hardly contain myself when I realize Larry can make this possible again. I’ve been stuck here for a long time, unable to ask for help where it’s demanded.  But now this feels solvable. I eagerly question what needs to happen with my hot water heater so my bath isn’t stone cold before it ever fills to the brim.  He even has a friend who can trace the source of the water spot on the ceiling below my tub so I don’t end up bathing in steamy water on the kitchen floor. Ralph will be here tomorrow.

As I write the first two sentences of this post I think what if I use the Larry rule to decide who earns the right to the leadership I bring to my work and the love I have to offer in relationships?  I may never feel stuck again.