another layer

The sound of my typing blends with the sound of my floor being ripped up.

What a journey the past two weeks have been! Though there are still many unknown's and a number of fears, I am feeling better - compared to Monday.

Monday the worker didn't show up. Monday I couldn't get a hold of him to find out why. Monday all the stress came crashing down on my head and weighed very heavy.  How could I have been so proud of myself regarding how I was handling things and now suddenly I find it all too much?

After some pondering, some paddling, some sleep...I've got a hunch as to what might be going on. Clearly we're dealing with different layers and time lines when we're dealing with loss and grief.

When my brother died I think I went into logistic mode. There's so much to do, including supporting family members and his friends. I felt strange but not like how I would have imagined I'd feel at such a huge loss. It seemed buried or far away some how. Seven months later (last weekend) I'm in Toronto and suddenly I feel a wave of sadness. It hit me with no warning:

This was Peter's city.
        I'll never see him again here.
                 I'll never see him again period.
 
A similar pattern seems to be showing up with this sudden unexpected (nor desired) renovation. You keep it together in order to get what needs to be done, done. Contacting and meeting with the various people who can advise you, choosing the various folks to do the work, figuring out how the heck you're going to pay for it, and packing and moving and asking for help to get all your stuff out of the way. That's what I had control over.

Now that that part is done...it's out of my hands to a large extent. I have to let go. I have to trust the people to come and do what they said they would. When they don't, or when it changes from what I understood, I suddenly feel all the stuffed down feelings that go with this whole change - overwhelmed, frustrated, scared - anything but strong.

Like another layer of grieving.

What helped me through that period? Sleep for sure. Let's not underestimate the power of rest. Reminding myself to breathe, big, deep, belly breaths. And I think the biggest thing for me was expressing those raw feelings. First privately through uncensored journal writing, then to an empathetic ear or two. And allowing the tears and the anger to show too. All these things helped me find my balance again.

So here's what I want to remember when attempting to live aligned through a tough time:

• Acknowledge that there will be layers and various depths. 
• Listen to your body. 
• Feel what you feel. 
• Ask for and accept support.

What about you? Anything you want to add that has helped you in your experiences?

roller coasters and rock walls

My beautiful rock wall, built by a friend, draped in flox given as gifts, held together by weeds and wild flowers...a metaphor for life ?

 

Despite beautiful weather day after day, despite the luscious rain last night that gave the gardens a deep drink,  despite fun community projects, despite creative work - despite all this - my world continues to go up and down. In a good place one minute, not so much the next.

Such is perhaps how it is. Or a reality of being in my fifties. Or perhaps a piece of the grieving journey. Whatever the case, the trick appears to be to find a way to accept and roll with those waves, one moment at a time.  And to notice what seems to help.

For me there are at least three things that support me getting to a more balanced place:

• writing (the private kind, not this public blogging!), letting my words, emotions, questions flow out unbridled     

• moving my body in some way - be that yoga, walking, swimming, cycling, dancing...just move! 

• telling someone what's happening; being heard helps even if there are no specific answers

This last one appears to be the hardest for me to act on.  Not really sure why.  I know that being heard carries a lot of power (that's why I love what I do, which is primarily listening). As does the act of sharing your (my) vulnerability.  It's the combination of both together that creates a kind of shared power, a linked energy that I believe makes our world go round. It is the birthplace of relationship, of innovation, of our humanness.

I realize I like to listen, to help, to be leaned upon...but that I sometimes find it hard to know how to start a conversation about my own malaise. I convince myself that my friends are too busy or too burdened with their own stresses for me to bother them.  I tend to wait for them to invite me and that doesn't always happen.

But I know that these are just excuses on my part that keep me from reaching out, from being vulnerable, from showing all sides of my own humanness. I've been there for my friends...why wouldn't I want to give that friend an opportunity to be there for me?

Friendships, like flowering rock walls, require balance, including the balance of leaning and being leaned upon. And moments of connection, conversation (a mix of planned and unplanned flowers be they weed or not). And a heap of trust - that together you will negotiate the boundaries required as necessary.

What helps you navigate the waves, negotiate for the support you need?

turning point stories

The other day I gave a team I was working with the exercise of bringing in an artifact that represented a turning point in their life. I thought that would be a good warm up to our discussion on our response to change.

On the day of the retreat just about each person said how they struggled with this exercise - even the person who had helped design the theme. That surprised me. Some said it was hard to find the object to represent the story they would tell. Some struggled with which turning point to speak about. Others felt they had none to speak of. 

My guess is that sharing a story that was important to us was what was scary.  It's not always easy to reveal ourselves to others, especially something that touches at our core. Makes us vulnerable.

That morning, while the snow kept on falling outside, each person decided to take a leap of faith and told their story of change to their colleagues. With each story a new channel was opened with each person in the room. You could feel the appreciation, the respect and the warmth begin to swirl through the air as strengths and values and incredible courage shined through. 

No one had to go that deep. No one had to do the exercise at all if they preferred not to. But everyone found the inner resources to do so, each in their own way.

I'm curious as to whether the exercise, introduced with words like 'artifact' and 'turning point' was what led to such deep stories? Perhaps if I'd asked for 'objects that symbolize a change in your life,  equally interesting but perhaps more superficial or guarded stories would have come out. Who knows?

My hunch is that this particular group was ready, no matter what way I introduced the exercise, to tell these stories, to reveal themselves...and to be heard.  I also suspect that the pre-work we did leading up to the day helped create the readiness, the initial safety for such candidness to occur.

If anyone from that team are reading this, I'd love to get your perspective. And anyone else's too.

the paradox of vulnerability

Most of us don't like uncertainty. We do a lot to try to make things 'certain', attempting to gain some control over a particular outcome, relationship, or habit.  Living with uncertainty seems to conjure up fears - I'm vulnerable, this isn't safe. Our vivid imaginations can build up some pretty drastic assumptions and beliefs about where this uncertainty is bound to lead us.

In fact there is a case for sharing our vulnerability - in appropriate contexts - actually helping us. Exposing our vulnerability can lead to stronger connections and thus increase our sense of safety and protection. Interesting paradox...especially for leaders and colleagues looking for ways to work better, more effectively, together. Discernment plays a key role as to what and when and with whom one shares his or her questions, fears, and wishes.

In this TED talk, Dr. Brené Brown talks about her research on Wholeheartedness and Connection.  Here are some of the highlights that jumped out for me:

• Role of connection - gives us purpose and meaning
• Vulnerability - is about allowing ourselves to be seen; the birth place of wholeheartedness
• Vulnerability is a crucial, central element in leading our lives, leading others
• Vulnerability is the element that helps us navigate between shame and empathy - two opposing ends of a continuum
• Defining shame vs guilt: 
• Shame - 'I am bad'; not a useful motivator
• Guilt - "I did a bad thing", something that doesn't fit my own code; could be a useful motivator 

• We can't selectively numb our emotions; if we numb what we don't like we will also numb those we desire, like joy

When I think back to my own experiences, I find several stories of when I allowed my vulnerability to show and I gained strength and perspective to help me move forward. The energy I was using to hide what was really going on for me was able to be directed to finding new ways. I was able to accept offers of help in whatever form they came. I was more open to connecting with others as well as to my true self. 

I have also observed this happening with folks that I work with. As each person takes baby steps to reveal their vulnerability their colleagues are reminded of the person's - and their own - humanity. This experience often makes all the difference in a team moving forward with energy and passion.

Yes there may be moments when our discernment was off and we didn't get the response we hoped for. These are the risks inherent in learning how to connect, lead, be better together. Chalk it up to learning. 

Does any of this resonate with you in your life as a leader, an employee, a colleague, or perhaps as a parent? What are the conditions that help you discern when it is appropriate to step into your vulnerability?

Linda