My call to action for you: Stand in the truth of your own story and listen to what your life experience is telling you. Demand the credit you deserve, both from others and from yourself.
How often do we give ourselves enough credit for the lessons we’ve learned through simply living? Through learning to pay bills, buy groceries, manage a budget, panic in the face of mounting debt, and live through love and heartbreak (and love again)? The intricacies of forming a network of friends vs. acquaintances? And the confidence to settle into our true selves?
Probably not that much, since we figure these are lessons shared by the majority of our peers.
But, what about those lessons that are the equivalent of climbing Mount Everest? Specific, unique, and survived by only the most resilient trauma warriors? Lessons that radically alter the fiber of who we are, to the core of our humanity? These lessons that shift our life perspectives, influence how we interact with the world.
Based on my personal experience, we don’t give these nearly enough credit.
I am asking these questions as I reflect on this day in my personal history. January 26 is a mile marker in my life – specifically January 26, 2011. It marks Lynn v1 who existed prior to that day, and Lynn v2 who is still a work in progress. That day is significant because it’s the day my firstborn son, Connor, died in his sleep, unexpectedly.
Prior to that day I was selfish – in my personal interactions and most definitely in my professional endeavors. My reputation was sharp-edged, hard driving, and lacking empathy. At work I was the GSD (Get “Stuff” Done) champion and could drive for results with ruthless fervor. My career trajectory was on a steep incline, primarily because I was rewarded based on my results and for driving the hell out of a project, rather than how I treated people or actually accomplished my goal. I’d fathom a guess that I wasn’t particularly well liked, but I did garner an odd sort of respect. The kind that is given out of fear rather than merit. And while I had a husband and family, work always seemed to take precedence. My son had been born 16 months earlier, and I always figured I would have more time, I would make more time, I would magically find more time, as he got older.
Until time ran out.
Following a too-short bereavement leave (that’s another article for another day) I returned to work. Or, did I? To this day I’m not entirely sure. The person who returned was a husk of my former self; A bit like a house that had been completely gutted, just waiting to be remodeled. Only, I didn’t want to simply be “updated” into a newer model of my old self. Seemingly overnight my priorities had changed, and my world was upside down. This parallel universe was similar in terms of appearance, but meaningless in the areas that used to fuel my internal fire.
But the fire still burned. It took months of searching for the source, until I realized it was right in front of, and inside, me. It was the people, the relationships, the humanity surrounding me. The people I treated so carelessly as a leader prior to January 26 were now the very source of my hope and energy. Investing in those aspects of work, life and my own leadership personality surfaced to the top of my daily interests and priorities. And, truly transformed how I led and behaved as a human.
The end result? Months – no, years – of reflection, honest internal dialogue, and a mindful effort to be my whole self in all aspects of my life. My drive to form and maintain relationships and deep bonds, my need for human-centric conversations and people-focused decisions transformed me as a manager, leader, wife, mother, and human. The line between the professional and personal versions of me began blurring, until the divide disappeared. My work carried a sense of purpose and meaning that was larger than the big title, promotion, or salary. I was invested in my team, both as a group and as individuals, as well as my clients. My team had fun (yes, fun!) and we reached for the brass ring out of a sense of adventure, learning, development, and engagement rather than obligation. And both our metrics around business and people results were off the charts – in the best way possible.
These are skills, behaviors, motivations, and disciplines that cannot be taught in a leadership seminar or read in a book. They cannot be “required” training. They are the unspoken, painful gifts of trauma and grief. They are the lessons learned from a life leadership academy no one enrolls in, but we all graduate from, in some form or another, one day.
As you reflect on your own leadership journey, the skills you bring to the table, what makes you the type of leader you either are or aspire to be, how much is driven by textbook or course-based learning? How much has been formed by your own life lessons?
My call to action for you: Stand in the truth of your own story and listen to what your life experience is telling you. Demand the credit you deserve, both from others and from yourself.
