Sauntering
down the hallway in a simple black cocktail dress, I plant myself in front of
the TV he’s watching and ask
what he thinks. All this primping, packing and parading of fashion is an
undertaking in itself, often requiring a complete inventory of the closet to
suss the proper clothing: Those pieces appearing professional yet casual, stylish yet
comfortable, somehow insulating me inside air conditioned spaces while at the
same time suitable in the sunshine and warmth outside; the ones that
(wishfully) shave a few pounds and a few years off this vessel carrying me
around. It’s a tall order and my closet usually fails me,
meaning if time allows I’ll make a
half-hearted attempt to acquire some resort wear guaranteed to gather dust in
my closet after the trip. I’m curating my
wardrobe for a 3-day business conference in Florida, and I’m exhausted.
These events are a huge financial investment for my employer, a concentrated time commitment, an overload of opportunities for connection and teeming with more relevant and insightful information than any one human can possibly consume. We’re in front of everybody who’s anybody in the organization. Of course, we want to have practiced our elevator pitches and brand statements and be armed with a set of intriguing questions to ask the many new faces we’ll meet. We need to be personable and witty, engaged but not overly serious, humble while channeling a little hubris, as this is the time to put our greatness on display. The pressure to look your best and be your best from the 6AM 5K run to the wee hours of the morning wherever cocktails are served is palpable.
I have a love-hate relationship with these events. I’ve slogged out of many conferences on the last day, feeling like the most plain, average, uninspiring woman on the planet, comparing myself to the beautiful people who have somehow struck exactly the right chord, looking totally comfortable in their chic elegance, while my resort wear hides in my suitcase because I can’t bring myself to don such foreign attire. Everyone else seems to be in all the right conversations and at complete ease, lost in riveting dialogue with people they barely know. All this culminates in award winners hailed in tear-jerking videos for not only their flawless work but selfless volunteering and unwavering devotion to their families.
Oh, the stories I tell myself about not seeking out enough connections, not enticing enough meaningful conversations, not asking enough questions, not staying up late enough to network, or staying up too late and choosing sleep over breakfast in a ballroom with a slew of colleagues. Everywhere I look there is an opportunity to tell myself I am less than.
What my experience at these events tells me is if I want to thrive I need to call upon the powerful sense of self-love I’ve been religiously cultivating for the last several years. Working in such an amazing culture of incredibly smart, organized, prepared, thoughtful and caring leaders means there will always be room to doubt myself. Even though I’ve been strengthening my self-love muscle for years, it inevitably buckles under the sheer weight of the convergence of so much excellence under a single roof. So, the question becomes how do I rekindle the romance, remind myself about all there is I love about me so I can ward off the ferocious feelings of inadequacy that threaten to take me down?
This time I dug deep into my reserves and brought to the forefront me at my very best. I not only wrote my own story, I told my story, and the dividends I reaped are priceless. I helped a struggling colleague find her energy reserve to keep going in a tough job. I used my superpowers of inquisition to facilitate a lively and thoughtful conversation I was asked to moderate. I listened to an old friend tell the tale of his recent divorce. I met the families of our award winners and shared my own views about what makes their loved one so special to me. I spoke out about some behaviors I have observed that run counter to our culture. I encouraged another to make the very courageous choice to speak up about a colleague in trouble, opening the door to some much-needed help. I found a deeper clarity of my purpose in this organization and shared it out loud. Instead of wishing I was more like the others in the room, I owned what makes me different, and in being brave enough to tell my story I was rewarded with respect, even reverence.
Sitting in my middle seat on the airplane flying home I’m determined to finish this piece and post before this Valentine’s Day comes to a close. There isn’t a better day of the year to reinforce the power of self-love, to recount our own love stories in hopes of inspiring others to give themselves this very special gift.
I was not the most glamorous, the smartest, the most vocal or most connected person at the conference. Not only did I skip breakfast one day, I didn’t even sign up for the 5K. At the end of the day it wasn’t about quantity, it was about quality. I took risks. I spoke my mind. I wore the black cocktail dress he gave the thumbs up to. And I didn’t even bother to pack resort wear.
These events are a huge financial investment for my employer, a concentrated time commitment, an overload of opportunities for connection and teeming with more relevant and insightful information than any one human can possibly consume. We’re in front of everybody who’s anybody in the organization. Of course, we want to have practiced our elevator pitches and brand statements and be armed with a set of intriguing questions to ask the many new faces we’ll meet. We need to be personable and witty, engaged but not overly serious, humble while channeling a little hubris, as this is the time to put our greatness on display. The pressure to look your best and be your best from the 6AM 5K run to the wee hours of the morning wherever cocktails are served is palpable.
I have a love-hate relationship with these events. I’ve slogged out of many conferences on the last day, feeling like the most plain, average, uninspiring woman on the planet, comparing myself to the beautiful people who have somehow struck exactly the right chord, looking totally comfortable in their chic elegance, while my resort wear hides in my suitcase because I can’t bring myself to don such foreign attire. Everyone else seems to be in all the right conversations and at complete ease, lost in riveting dialogue with people they barely know. All this culminates in award winners hailed in tear-jerking videos for not only their flawless work but selfless volunteering and unwavering devotion to their families.
Oh, the stories I tell myself about not seeking out enough connections, not enticing enough meaningful conversations, not asking enough questions, not staying up late enough to network, or staying up too late and choosing sleep over breakfast in a ballroom with a slew of colleagues. Everywhere I look there is an opportunity to tell myself I am less than.
What my experience at these events tells me is if I want to thrive I need to call upon the powerful sense of self-love I’ve been religiously cultivating for the last several years. Working in such an amazing culture of incredibly smart, organized, prepared, thoughtful and caring leaders means there will always be room to doubt myself. Even though I’ve been strengthening my self-love muscle for years, it inevitably buckles under the sheer weight of the convergence of so much excellence under a single roof. So, the question becomes how do I rekindle the romance, remind myself about all there is I love about me so I can ward off the ferocious feelings of inadequacy that threaten to take me down?
This time I dug deep into my reserves and brought to the forefront me at my very best. I not only wrote my own story, I told my story, and the dividends I reaped are priceless. I helped a struggling colleague find her energy reserve to keep going in a tough job. I used my superpowers of inquisition to facilitate a lively and thoughtful conversation I was asked to moderate. I listened to an old friend tell the tale of his recent divorce. I met the families of our award winners and shared my own views about what makes their loved one so special to me. I spoke out about some behaviors I have observed that run counter to our culture. I encouraged another to make the very courageous choice to speak up about a colleague in trouble, opening the door to some much-needed help. I found a deeper clarity of my purpose in this organization and shared it out loud. Instead of wishing I was more like the others in the room, I owned what makes me different, and in being brave enough to tell my story I was rewarded with respect, even reverence.
Sitting in my middle seat on the airplane flying home I’m determined to finish this piece and post before this Valentine’s Day comes to a close. There isn’t a better day of the year to reinforce the power of self-love, to recount our own love stories in hopes of inspiring others to give themselves this very special gift.
I was not the most glamorous, the smartest, the most vocal or most connected person at the conference. Not only did I skip breakfast one day, I didn’t even sign up for the 5K. At the end of the day it wasn’t about quantity, it was about quality. I took risks. I spoke my mind. I wore the black cocktail dress he gave the thumbs up to. And I didn’t even bother to pack resort wear.
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