Our Work is a Story of Reinvention.
As a gesture of interest in people bringing their, "whole selves," to work, my company has revamped their employee spotlight articles and replaced them with questions that are much less interview-ish and much more conversational. The articles always highlight a single word that encompasses themselves and the work that they do, and it always leads with, "My work is a story of..."
Because I have spent the last two years being really self-centered, I thought immediately what my word would be and if I wanted to volunteer to talk about my work and my personal life through the lens of seemingly informal atmosphere. I definitely do want to do that (see above: self-centered), but not on that platform. When someone struggles with the things that I have struggled against since forever, people in a professional "career," setting often use those stories, those emotions and those experiences as fodder for labeling in whatever terms would suit propelling their own career and marketability: liability, loose-cannon, unprofessional weirdo...whatever derogatory but work-related slur that would suffice. I often think about people like that (because it has happened to me)...and when I am at my angriest and wish them so many nasty things. When I am at my saddest, I wish them a glimpse into my history. When I am at my most reflective, I wish them their own serenity.
Sometimes, when something stressful happens at the hands of someone else, I try to remember that they probably aren't feeling lovable, either (you guys that is really hard). And when you inject humanity into the situation, the fallibility of humanity becomes so clear. Sometimes it doesn't work. Sometimes, I remember what the Dalai Lama says,
“Anger eats away at our immunity. It makes us physically sick and never resolves the problem. Yes, it can be very energizing—but it is blind energy.”
I know that the Dalai Lama is right, but sometimes, those assholes can go fuck themselves.
I am not necessarily proud about my reactions, but I spend a lot of time revamping that reaction and trying again. Because that one decision to react might be regrettable, but a cool thing about the planet is that it turns and you get another day to make it right - even if it doesn't always seem like it will ever happen. It was that way when I would read about my fitness community friends and their choices. If someone ate something wasn't part of their daily intake or wasn't a great choice, they would put on the face of regret at that one choice to learn the lesson, but not let it define the entire week, month, year or the accomplishments that they had already made. There is the chance to reinvent: One compassionate moment at a time, one calorie at a time, one angry outburst at a time.
At the health and wellness fair last week there was a personal trainer that was giving away free training sessions and I bent her ear a bit about my needs. I said, "I am probably not like anyone that has approached you today," and I relayed a story where I was on the cusp of 100lbs lost without surgery and I am looking for ways to keep the momentum going. I shared that I had figured out the math of losing weight aggressively but not too aggressively and did it but then it the wall when just the math wasn't going to suffice. Since then, I have switched my fitness tracker, switched my diet and made a moral choice about eating meat, started to try to overcome my anxiety about weight training, started to become realistic about the longevity of continued weight loss. I know that I need to figure out the next thing to keep me on the trajectory to the healthiest body I can have. She said she would love to talk to me more. Turns out, a lot of people like talking to me about this stuff - even the ones that aren't selling anything.
I struggle with being profound. There is a sense that because I have almost died, I have the more innate emotional impact of the loss and the waste that it would be if I did not try to do my best work in this life. I can't expect someone to understand that without having lived it, but many people look at me with the sense that they want in on the secret. I really need to start carrying a mirror around for those moments.
I deliver platitudes a lot at work because people like what they know. More than one person has said that they come to me to keep them sane (the Jessica four years ago would not have received this kind of back-handed compliment, because she would be crying at her desk). They're comforted by, "we're all in this together," kind of dialogue. The reality is, you have to figure your own shit out with such blinding honesty that it can be the biggest mindfuck of your life. I can offer the hand the hold when it gets hard, but reinvention is a table for one. Rarely do people take the step to the real change that can move the mountains of anxiety, self-doubt, shame, vulnerability and trust, but my own work in finding my compassionate self is to hold the judgement on people that don't and especially the people that won't. That is my reinvention-in-progress.
But that is it, isn't it? The Dalai Lama knows that, too.
“The moment of production is the moment of degeneration.”
There's a joke about Pittsburgh weather that says something like, "If you don't like the weather here, wait a day." That is the reality of the tenuous hold we have on everything, though. And that tenuous hold should lend itself to the ease of reinvention...if we allow it.
Because I have spent the last two years being really self-centered, I thought immediately what my word would be and if I wanted to volunteer to talk about my work and my personal life through the lens of seemingly informal atmosphere. I definitely do want to do that (see above: self-centered), but not on that platform. When someone struggles with the things that I have struggled against since forever, people in a professional "career," setting often use those stories, those emotions and those experiences as fodder for labeling in whatever terms would suit propelling their own career and marketability: liability, loose-cannon, unprofessional weirdo...whatever derogatory but work-related slur that would suffice. I often think about people like that (because it has happened to me)...and when I am at my angriest and wish them so many nasty things. When I am at my saddest, I wish them a glimpse into my history. When I am at my most reflective, I wish them their own serenity.
Sometimes, when something stressful happens at the hands of someone else, I try to remember that they probably aren't feeling lovable, either (you guys that is really hard). And when you inject humanity into the situation, the fallibility of humanity becomes so clear. Sometimes it doesn't work. Sometimes, I remember what the Dalai Lama says,
“Anger eats away at our immunity. It makes us physically sick and never resolves the problem. Yes, it can be very energizing—but it is blind energy.”
I know that the Dalai Lama is right, but sometimes, those assholes can go fuck themselves.
I am not necessarily proud about my reactions, but I spend a lot of time revamping that reaction and trying again. Because that one decision to react might be regrettable, but a cool thing about the planet is that it turns and you get another day to make it right - even if it doesn't always seem like it will ever happen. It was that way when I would read about my fitness community friends and their choices. If someone ate something wasn't part of their daily intake or wasn't a great choice, they would put on the face of regret at that one choice to learn the lesson, but not let it define the entire week, month, year or the accomplishments that they had already made. There is the chance to reinvent: One compassionate moment at a time, one calorie at a time, one angry outburst at a time.
At the health and wellness fair last week there was a personal trainer that was giving away free training sessions and I bent her ear a bit about my needs. I said, "I am probably not like anyone that has approached you today," and I relayed a story where I was on the cusp of 100lbs lost without surgery and I am looking for ways to keep the momentum going. I shared that I had figured out the math of losing weight aggressively but not too aggressively and did it but then it the wall when just the math wasn't going to suffice. Since then, I have switched my fitness tracker, switched my diet and made a moral choice about eating meat, started to try to overcome my anxiety about weight training, started to become realistic about the longevity of continued weight loss. I know that I need to figure out the next thing to keep me on the trajectory to the healthiest body I can have. She said she would love to talk to me more. Turns out, a lot of people like talking to me about this stuff - even the ones that aren't selling anything.
I struggle with being profound. There is a sense that because I have almost died, I have the more innate emotional impact of the loss and the waste that it would be if I did not try to do my best work in this life. I can't expect someone to understand that without having lived it, but many people look at me with the sense that they want in on the secret. I really need to start carrying a mirror around for those moments.
I deliver platitudes a lot at work because people like what they know. More than one person has said that they come to me to keep them sane (the Jessica four years ago would not have received this kind of back-handed compliment, because she would be crying at her desk). They're comforted by, "we're all in this together," kind of dialogue. The reality is, you have to figure your own shit out with such blinding honesty that it can be the biggest mindfuck of your life. I can offer the hand the hold when it gets hard, but reinvention is a table for one. Rarely do people take the step to the real change that can move the mountains of anxiety, self-doubt, shame, vulnerability and trust, but my own work in finding my compassionate self is to hold the judgement on people that don't and especially the people that won't. That is my reinvention-in-progress.
But that is it, isn't it? The Dalai Lama knows that, too.
“The moment of production is the moment of degeneration.”
There's a joke about Pittsburgh weather that says something like, "If you don't like the weather here, wait a day." That is the reality of the tenuous hold we have on everything, though. And that tenuous hold should lend itself to the ease of reinvention...if we allow it.
That first step is a doozy.
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