Positraction

Technically, I’m the mentor, but what I love about these relationships is the moment my group of mentees enquires about what’s happening in my world I don’t hesitate to the turn the tables and ask for their take on a troubling situation that’s hurled me and my car into a ditch. They represent everything a good mentor should:  They’re removed from the organization I’m involved in. My future success doesn’t depend on them in any way, shape, or form.  I can be my most authentic, letting my hair down in its most disheveled, tangled mess with no threat of running into any characters outside this trusted circle in this unpolished, unapologetic state.

 

Each one of the three contributes a sliver of solid perspective, a glimmering nugget which I turn over and over in thoughtful consideration while deciding how I ultimately want to show up. A veritable roadside assistance crew, they are instrumental in helping me put my vehicle back onto the pavement. 

They suggest I keep an open mind, presume the uninvited protagonist entering the pages of my story comes confident in my abilities and ready to advocate. What could happen if I assume her intentions are good?  If I give her the benefit of the doubt, entertain the possibility she might just be a jughead, ignorant or naïve about how she is landing on me.

   

They ask me to consider what a personal win looks like to my new foil. How do I make myself as valuable to her as anyone can in these circumstances?  Could focusing on what makes her tick help me feel more comfortable about my own standing?

Reflecting on their sage advice, it dawns on me I’ve been very myopic, intent on my own insecurities. My old, demonic nemesis, Perfectionism, rearing her ugly head yet again, demanding I shore up every aspect of my responsibilities, admonishing me for any inadequacies, marginalizing the places I shine by intimating they neither matter nor are valued, suggesting my biggest weakness is the only chapter of the story anyone is reading.  Ultimately bolstering the perpetual fear I’m one day away from being put out to pasture.

 

With this clarity I’m able to put into action my mentees’ most powerful message. They reinforce the concept of focusing on my strengths, of doing more of what I do best:  Asking questions to induce her to reflect on how she is showing up, to suss an alternative point of view, to open the lines of communication. “You are the master of these questions,” they tell me.  How do I use this skill to tamp down my own rising resentments and pave a positive experience on the road I’m now traveling as Tonto instead of The Lone Ranger?

The professionals sharing research on people development tell us the data suggests we get far more bang for our buck by ameliorating our strengths instead of trying to improve our weaknesses.  So, it shouldn’t surprise me that when I’m stuck, sending more power to the place where I have the most traction will ultimately catapult me out of the mud.

 

It’s the shining moment in the movie “My Cousin Vinny” when Marissa Tomei, as the glam Italian girlfriend, is on the witness stand using her experience growing up in a family full of mechanics to define the word for Joe Pesci’s bumbling amateur defense attorney, and with it, winning the case for the yutes.

 

And so I’m determined to make it my shining moment, too.  I focus on returning to my bedrock, the dependable and infinite well of my strengths, pressing the accelerator to the floor without letting up.  It may feel like overkill in this moment, but what I know for sure is this extra power is everything my tender, bruised ego needs to burnish in my next chapter, back on solid ground.