Ampersand

“I’m an “and” kind of guy.”  He articulates this to me more times than I can count; in response to a statement or lament I express involving the assumption I need to sacrifice, shroud or surrender pieces of myself in order to be accepted. It’s the notion of relinquishing a little bit of our true selves in order to assimilate into what we think others are expecting us to be he is adamantly attempting to evict from my vernacular.

 

God love him.  This is a reflex predating my earliest memory.  I don’t know if it affixes to the X chromosome, or is nurtured to fruition in the obsequiousness of a first-born daughter, to be permanently cemented with the inherent selflessness of motherhood?  Maybe this bias is not even gender-specific?  Whatever it is, it’s limiting and serves no practical purpose.

We’re all multi-dimensional, yet how many people in our lives do we actually allow to embrace this fullness?  We carefully dole out facets of ourselves, methodically matching to each different audience only what we deem they can bear.  I’m not sure how this happens, but in this practice we become really good at compartmentalizing our lives, so good in fact, the prospect of uniting all these selves for another to experience becomes a source of anxiety.  What will my corporate colleagues say about me upon reading my blog posts or viewing my art?  Will this wonderful man in my life think differently about me after we attend a business function together?  How will my kids, having grown up with a single mom, react to me with a partner? 

Who hasn’t witnessed or lived this at the office, believing the requirement is to sequester for long hours, pretending family commitments don’t exist in order to demonstrate loyalty and the ambition to get ahead?  It can seem impossible to live the “and” life.  Many of us fold immediately, presuming our only option is “or”, that we need to diminish or extinguish the importance of one area to prove we are truly committed to another. Or worse yet, we need to keep the different aspects of our lives completely separate, juggling in a vacuum.

I think about moving to “and” in two ways:  It’s about trusting the tribes who are part of our divergent interests and who may each know us a little differently will amalgamate when needed. And it’s also about believing each of those stakeholders, be it our kids, our partners or our bosses, will still love, support and value us when time in another area of our lives takes us away.

While the transformation into an “and” kind of girl is not quick or easy for me, I’m finding a remarkable phenomenon occurs when you allow it; not only do you create capacity for more of what matters, but in the process become more interesting and valuable to the people who matter.

To the “and” kind of guy in my life: Thank you for an epic Year One. XO