Credence

My teenager broke my trust (yet again) over the weekend, leaving me deliberating his fate on the high school social scene. I’ve adopted the practice of holding my tongue in the moment, believing that time to mull over the situation always results in a better outcome.  But I admit I couldn’t keep quiet this time.  I felt mortally wounded and wanted him to bleed with me. It’s a natural reaction, but not the best one.  It leaves me wondering how I will ever be able to completely trust him.

My first impulse, which is to throw up my hands, proclaim I can’t trust him at all and therefore he will never leave my sight, is like walking myself into a prison cell, the door clanking behind me. It’s an impractical self-made trap I want no part of.  So I think the answer lies in digging a little deeper and looking across the spectrum of trust relationships.

Nurturing trust is vital to safe flight out of the nest for our children, and it’s also an essential ingredient to opening the door to our dreams.  Taking that highly personal desire from your heart and vocalizing it to someone who can help you take the first step cannot be underestimated.  It’s make or break.  No one goes anywhere without it. 

Yet, to me, trust is one of the most confounding elements of the human condition.  Trust requires an enormous amount of confidence and courage on the part of both the truster and the trustee.  (I’m making up my own words now, but stay with me.)

When you choose someone to trust, you are making yourself vulnerable by sharing something of tremendous value – whether it is a feeling or insecurity you harbor, a rule you need followed to keep a loved one safe, an important piece of business with negative consequences if it doesn’t go right, a promise you need kept, or a dream you want to pursue so badly you can taste it, but you’re not sure you can make happen.  How do you know this person will protect and value your cargo in the same way you do and be honest with you if he or she falters? 

How do you know this person has your back and will stay pressed up against you even if it means sacrificing himself?

When you’re the person being trusted, you have an obligation to live up to the responsibility you’ve accepted.  But we’re all human.  There are going to be times when you’ll be tempted to break the trust, your best intentions and efforts fall short, or you just aren’t strong enough. You owe the person who is counting on you an explanation, but fear of the repercussions that may come with admitting your shortcomings preclude an honest conversation. Fear is both the reason for a breach of trust and the inevitable lies that ensue.

Trust gets broken, and if you’re left feeling hurt and demoralized because of it, the first step to healing is to realize it’s not about you. 

Sounds strange, doesn’t it?  But think for a minute about some situations where trust is lost.  For a project at work going down the wrong path, maybe it is a fear that admitting things aren’t going well or asking for help will put skills in question or a job in jeopardy. For a teenager deceiving a parent, it’s almost always about gaining a freedom he wants but is afraid to ask for because he is anticipating the inevitable “no” and going without that freedom seems insufferable.  For a spouse in an unsatisfying marriage, maybe there is so much conflict and only enough courage for half-hearted attempts at working together to find a solution; it seems easier to medicate unhappiness with someone fresh and new on the side.

If you’ve trusted a person who let you down in ways like this, recognize there’s almost never deliberate intent to hurt you.  Rather, there’s fear and insecurity that drives a self-protective behavior. Is it destructive?  Sometimes, yes, but it’s not about you. 

We talk a lot in the business of client service about building a “trusted advisor” relationship:   Getting your client to open up and share her problems so that you can help her solve. It’s not easy to cultivate these relationships. To be successful, as the trusted advisor you have to be willing to trust.

Trusting freely looks like this to me:  Accept that there is always some possibility that trust will be breached. Become that person at work and at home who makes it safe for others to share themselves. And look for people to trust who are open in the same way.  These are the people we gravitate toward when we’re looking for the validation and encouragement that launching a dream requires. A person who willingly shares his vulnerability will be open to and protective of yours.

Know that trust is broken because of the propensity to mask our insecurities and weaknesses that became the very definition of human nature the minute Eve took a bite of the apple. Have I mentioned it’s not about you? 

This is a tall order, for sure, but we’re all up to the challenge.

Trust someone.  Start with your dad if you have to.  He loves you unconditionally.  Share one of your failure stories and how you ultimately prevailed with someone on your team who’s powering through a really tough assignment.  Try to understand what freedom your teenager is craving incessantly the next time you catch him in a lie.  Be real. Unravel the next step you need to take to realize your dream by sharing it with someone who can help.  You’ll be glad you did.

Espy

Photographers documenting The Sketchbook Project exhibit spotted Nate and I at the drawing table working on our postcards.  You can get a glimpse of us via the Art House Co-op blog link adjacent to this post:  Stories from the road:  The biggest small town in America . . .”

It’s our fifteen minutes of fame.  Woo hoo!  Nate, of course, is mortified. 

Blaze

Saturday was the day of reckoning in our Sketchbook world.  The boys and I hit the highway headed for the Hyde Park Art Center, along mighty Lake Michigan in Chicago; we had a 3-1/2 hour window in our too-packed day and two of those hours were spent traveling, but this was a priority and not to be missed.

Nate’s book is an amazing mix of drawings and lyrics that have meaning to him.  He is careful to give credit to the artists he subsumes. His media is primarily pencil and markers, along with some stickers and creative use of icons and logos. Talking me through his book, he was a little apprehensive, a little unsure he had done it “right”, but I assured him there is no “right” way in the world of art. It was worth the wait to finally see his book.

He was touched when I pointed out the page I had dedicated to him in my book. And truly incredulous when he saw that I had incorporated his drawing of angel wings and Robert Frost’s “Nothing Gold Can Stay”, which he has deemed “his” poem.

It felt good to hold my book in my hands again.  I now truly appreciate the difference between owning an original piece and a reproduction.  I savored one last time the texture of the familiar torn paper edges, a hallmark of my medium, before returning the book to the stacks. 

I didn’t expect the feeling of community that this tiny exhibit exuded.  There were tables where artists and visitors could create original works on postcards.  The eye candy was dazzling, markers and pencils in all shapes, sizes and colors. All three of us chatted with other artists while we created.  We got to choose which upcoming tour city we’d like our postcards delivered to and received in exchange another artist’s work fashioned in Brooklyn.

I thought I’d leave the exhibit wanting to visit my work again in another city.  Surprisingly, I’m ready to move on to something new.  I’ve realized one of my dreams on this year’s list, and in doing so seeded a similar passion in my boys.  Traveling this path with me every step of the way, they’ve been infused with the staples they’ll need for any trail they choose to forge. The feeling of satisfaction that comes with this accomplishment leaves me speechless (well, almost).  When I embarked on my journey to add dimensionality to my life I never imagined that diverse interests would converge, melding into a new, happier me. 

As Nate says in his Sketchbook, “We’re all looking for some color in this black and white world.” I’m certain I’ve found my way through.




My postcard - on its way to Los Angeles in June!

 

Inimitable

When my kids were very young, one of our favorite bedtime stories was “The Big Orange Splot”.  The protagonist, Mr. Plumbean, paints his house all sorts of crazy colors, much to the chagrin of his conformist neighbors.  Through late-night conversation (assumedly with cocktails, although it is a children’s book), he coaxes each to unfurl their passions, inspiring them, one by one, to paint their own houses, as he did, to reflect their dreams.

I loved the lessons for my kids:  Dare to dream. Dare to express yourself in spite of what others think. We all have the power to encourage others to cultivate their dreams.

Why is it so difficult to unveil what makes us unique?  One reason could be the overwhelming number of critics, as evidenced by this piece of “news” I came across today:  http://shine.yahoo.com/at-home/polka-dot-house-next-door-awesome-eyesore-192900594.html. The Mr. Plumbean of this story paints his house in polka dots, which outrages his neighbors causing complaints about the eye-sore he has created and speculation that his motives are suspect.

Yet, diversity is a hot corporate buzzword right now.  Diversity programs are popping up all over the place.   I asked at a recent networking event how women can capitalize on this to grow their careers.  The response was that rather than try to fit in with the men, women should know and advertise their differences.

Great advice, but pass the spinach, please. It takes real strength of character to put our differences out there. In a 21^st century society that claims to embrace diversity, we sure have a hard time with it. This causes most of us to shy away from offering the controversial opinion, swimming against the current, or asking the provocative question.

Which is exactly why we need to divulge our differences:  Very few people are brave enough to do it.  The courage to put yourself out there is a differentiator.  Who knew?

So how do you steel yourself to face your potential detractors, or more importantly, how do you prevent yourself from becoming your own nemesis?   We talk ourselves out of some really good ideas by wondering what others will think of us, which means we never get out of the gate. 

I’ve found it very helpful to adopt the “your opinion is none of my business” mindset. Randy Pausch, the author of "The Last Lecture" is the sage who gets credit for this extremely powerful way of thinking.  The idea that everyone around us can have any opinion they want about us, and unless we ask for it, it really is none of our business. 

We’re absolved of all conflict. We have license to make decisions based solely on what we think. Suddenly, I’m not so afraid to put my art on exhibit, because it’s really none of my business whether it appeals to you or not.  Hmmm.

And you will be amazed at how inspiring your bravery is.  The original Mr. Plumbean got his whole neighborhood to paint their houses to fit their dreams.  And to uphold their diversity in the face of criticism:  “Our street is us and we are it.  Our street is where we like to be, and it looks like all our dreams.”

Chrism

On Sunday, Nate made his Confirmation.  In the Roman Catholic Church, this is the second sacrament of initiation; the bestowing of the gifts of the Holy Spirit on the recipient.  The Holy Spirit provides us with wisdom, understanding, counsel, courage, knowledge, reverence, and awe, giving a special strength to spread and defend the faith. Couldn’t we all use some of that?

The Monsignor who presided over the ceremony gave an inspired homily offering his perspective on the power of this gift, which he likened to rocket fuel, in unleashing our potential.

He spoke of a road trip taken with friends close to 20 years ago, the experience of driving through Montana in a 1994 Ford Windstar van at 120+ miles/hour.  There was no speed limit in that state at the time, so he and his friends put the pedal to the floor to see how fast the car would really go.  Windows down, wind billowing around them, you can only imagine the feeling of utter freedom and exhilaration that a ride tinged with fear brings. 

Until they started to think about what could happen to them traveling at such great speeds.  They put on the brakes.  And while it was safer, compared to where they’d been, it now seemed like a crawl and they were left feeling a little unsettled and deflated with the prospect of the balance of the trip.

His message to these teenagers, teeming with promise, was this:  There are no speed limits in the spiritual life.  The gifts of the Holy Spirit are the fuel we need to take off at lightning speed.   We shouldn’t settle for the slow and safe pace.  We are missing out on what life has to offer us, and the world is missing out on what we have to offer it.

Whether you are religious or even spiritual doesn’t matter.  I believe we all have this power inside of ourselves:   The power to use our strengths for something wonderful.  Yet, so many of us are afraid to really step on the accelerator and test our limits.  We feel a little bored in the slow lane, but it’s safe, so that’s where we stay. 

In that moment, all I could think is that what I want most for Nate, and his older brother, is for each of them to reach inside, grab those talents, and go out and change their worlds. 

I want that for myself, too. And I’m doing it, one step at a time. But after hearing his talk, I’m inspired to pick up the pace. I want the rush of the wind through my hair that comes with traveling at breakneck speed. I want to see how fast and far I can go.

I’ve been anointed.  The only one who can put the brakes on now is me.

Equivocation

Last night I attended a networking event bringing women leaders in my company together with some women from a prominent law firm in the city.  The discussion was led by the Chairman of the Board from my company and one of her equally prestigious peers at the law firm.

They shared insight about how they use networking, and of course, some of the challenges of climbing the ladder during a time when each woman, literally, was the only woman in the room in most of her respective business meetings.  They acknowledged that some of their struggles were generational, and really wanted to hear from us in terms of how they can lend support in a program that addresses today’s situation.

While I should have left the meeting completely inspired and ready to blast off, I was surprisingly wilted and full of self-doubt.  My new shoes had rubbed a crippling blister into my skin and I felt disheveled in my suit.  Sitting in a room full of highly successful women left me feeling like my own accomplishments don’t stack up.  A few women volunteered their stories, and I debated sharing mine.  Would speaking up make me braver than everyone else or just more vulnerable?  Do people really want to hear what I have to say?  And I had 6o minutes to ruminate on all of it during the commute home to my world of single-motherhood where I was certain I had somehow not met expectations there as well.  

Did I really belong in the room?

We hear the statistics everyday:  Women still make less money than their male counterparts in the same positions.  The number of women leaders decreases as we look up the corporate ladder. Yet, women have eclipsed men in college enrollment numbers.  We launch promising careers, only to see attrition in the workforce with marriage and the commitment to children.  For those of us who stick it out, we constantly vacillate between our responsibilities at home and those at work, ultimately feeling like we’re not doing either very well. And there is that nagging feeling that maybe we aren’t good enough.

There seems to be an incessant need, with research comparing skillsets, to affirm that women are as qualified, or, even more qualified than men.  But is citing the statistics going to fix the problem?   Is it the men doubting our capabilities and holding us back or is it us?

Just because I am a woman working in corporate America does not mean I am in the pool of potential women leaders.  I have to jump in the water.  I have to want it.  Has research been done to quantify ambition in women and men?  I bet those numbers would look much different.

I would argue that to be fully aspirational, we are the ones who need to become believers in ourselves.

The funny thing is each woman who spoke last night eloquently boiled down her success in networking to a simple love of personal connections and helping others.  Sure, making those connections brings in business and grows careers, but making it personal removes all the barriers that intimidation and reservation procure.  Maybe networking should be looked at not only in terms of the end game, but the strength it builds in the moment.

We’re all going to have doubts at some time or another.  It’s inevitable.  But this needs to be the exception, not the rule.  And we can’t let reservations get in the way of where we want to go.

My plan is solid.  On my very best, confident days I am fully invested and believe in my approach.  When I’m having doubts I need to remind myself of that.    

I will be reunited with my Sketchbook this weekend when it comes to the exhibit in Chicago.  I am excited, and I am nervous.  It’s a very personal piece of work.  I can’t even describe the feeling I had when I sealed it in the envelope, giving my baby away to the Brooklyn Art Library.  I’m still not sure how I feel about it being in the public domain.  But I put it there, and I’m committed to powering through my qualms because it’s precisely what takes me forward.

When I’m mired in misgivings it helps to think back to the last time I felt really strong and confident.  And put myself there again. For me, it was Sunday, near the end of the 8 mile run with my friends Kathy and Dave. 

So early this morning I affixed one of those magical antiseptic, cushioned Band-Aids to my raging blister, donned a running shirt with “Power to the She” emblazoned across the front and set out for the road.  As I rounded the corner on the back end of mile 3, I saw my neighbor walking his dog.  He looked at his watch and he looked at me and said “You must be feeling really good today!” 

Yes I am.

Expunge

A humiliating public speaking nightmare became reality for me during my first-ever presentation on a conference call that’s usually attended by about 90 of my peers.  In an attempt to tailor my talking points to my audience, I made some last minutes changes and ended up losing track in the middle of my very organized script. Stumbling over my words led to a deadly silence that felt like an eternity, followed by more time struggling to get back on track. My face was beet red.  My heart was sick.  This was a moment in the sun for me and I felt burned to a crisp.

Ouch!

Moving beyond an awkward misstep is never easy.  Our first inclination is to want to make the whole thing disappear.  We magnify what went wrong and overlook what went right.  I am particularly adept at beating myself up and throwing the baby out with the bathwater. While I can console and grant others grace, I have trouble applying that practice to myself.

There’s a good chance we’ll falter when we reach for something new.  It’s this risk that prevents many of us from chasing our dreams. 

But there is a really liberating aspect. Mistakes are on the agenda. No one expects you to be able to write a Grammy-winning song the first day you show up for guitar lessons.  Nor complete a marathon the first time your feet hit the pavement. So you give it your best shot and build on the experience. 

The beauty of learning from mistakes is twofold.  Identifying what to do differently next time is helpful in terms of perfecting your skill.  And there is the added benefit of taking your mind off your bruised ego.  The sting is not so fierce when you’re focused on some constructive action you can harness for next time.

It helps to get some perspective, too.  When I mentioned my blunder to a friend who had been on the call, she looked at me wide-eyed, saying she hadn’t noticed.  The skeptic in me thought maybe she was just being nice, but I trust she would not have been able to hide her empathy if I had been truly awful.  Knowing I don’t need to walk around with a paper bag over my head makes it easier to put it behind me.

How you recover from your mistake says more about you than the mistake itself.  Pick yourself up quickly.  Brush off the dirt. Smile.  If tears are going to flow, tell yourself you’ll save them for the car. You’ll at least make it to the parking lot. 

Pay it forward.  You’ll master the skill in time, and likely encounter someone in the future who will be sitting in the shoes you’re in now.  You’ll be able to connect in a really personal way by sharing your story in the form of coaching or comfort to another who will welcome your wisdom.  And while it seems implausible in the moment, you will find humor down the road.

As for me, I’ve talked with a mentor about where I went wrong and found another outlet to practice my presentation skills. Now I’m hoping time will work its magic as it does in the aftermath of childbirth:  A merciful erasure of all recollection of pain leaving me eager to do it again. 

If we’re going to reach our dreams, we need to get out of our safe places and stretch beyond the comfort zone. Getting to the big goals won’t be without challenges.  Think of failures as opportunities to hone your skills, not obstacles, and stay proudly on the path to where you want to go.