Young the Giant – My Body
On good afternoons, I lace my shoes cradling the phone against my shoulder. It is quickly becoming precious time to me to explore my adorable neighbourhood during truth-telling phone calls with my far away friends. I hear myself often saying I like my work, and feel I am good at it. But I get pulled into petty politics on a daily basis. If only I could do my job, sans politics, I would be awesome. As several conversations turned down this path, I began to ask why these petty problems bother me so much, and why now, when this is not new.
My best guess is it is humbling to be told how to do your job, and when. It is humbling to be told you messed up, need to change, should take more time to get it right. And it is exhausting, frustrating and disappointing to arrive at that humbling place every couple hours. I feel beat up by the smallest of problems, looking for logic and a way out even at the times I was at fault.
Right up there with humility comes shame, an overarching emotion that obliterated me this week. I landed on my couch at the end of the day and barely moved until bedtime – multiple days in a row. No one wants to sit with shame and explore its ins and outs, so my instinct is to resist and blame. This brings us to my conversations where I believe everyone else is making my job harder and I would be so much better off without them.
My Mom often tells me how important humility is – not that there is really ever a good time to say that. I so badly want a way out of the shame hole, something better than “soon the event will be over and I won’t have to deal with this crap.” Humility is a practise, a discipline, a way of taking part in the messy process. It is brave and honest and diffuses arguments. It is worth sitting in, worth talking about, worth experiencing. It is part of the dance, so however awkward it is to begin with, it is important to learn the steps. Eventually muscle memory will kick in, and its rhythms will become second nature. It is good to be humble.
(Image via here)