Work that's truly rewarding compels us to commit fully to the endeavor. We have skin in the game, you might say, like an investor putting their own capital on the line. In this sense, coaching my clients and students isn't just (or even) a job, it's a deeply personal experience in which I take real risks in the service of meaningful gains. And I suspect the same is true for you and your work, in one way or another.
But while having skin in the game allows us to do our best work, it also exposes us to risk. When we succeed it's all the more gratifying, and when we struggle, it's all the more disheartening. And I've had some challenges recently that have led me to reflect both on how I manage my response in the moment and on how I recover from setbacks over time. I've found myself relying on the following principles:
Own Up To It
I'm not afraid of making mistakes--I've learned that striving for perfection is actually playing it safe, aiming too low and doing a disservice to my clients and students. But I still feel the sting of embarrassment and shame when I do make a mistake, and my first impulse in response to those emotions is to reject them and distract attention from their source. And yet I've also learned that I need to resist that impulse, not only to walk my talk as a coach, but also to grow as a human being.
I've observed and experienced this dynamic over and over again: When we screw up as leaders, the most important step we can take is to acknowledge reality, admit our mistake, own up to it. No matter what else we want to say, no matter what other factors influenced our actions, everything starts with that acknowledgment, and no real progress will be made until it occurs.
This week I became impatient during a group exercise and forcefully interrupted a student, who felt angry and hurt as a result. Thankfully, she felt enough trust in me to express those emotions, and I was able to hear her and express my embarrassment, which allowed her to hear why I had become impatient in the first place. It wasn't my most skillful moment as a coach, but it was a successful repair that allowed the two of us to move forward.
Ask For What You Need
I'm used to being a source of support and guidance for other people--it's one of the characteristics that led me into coaching. But while that role is deeply fulfilling to me, it's also a potential trap. If I limit myself to supporting others, I can't understand or communicate what I need when I'm struggling myself. This makes it all the more important to slow down, look inside, and articulate what I need.
I know I'm no exception in this regard. The best leaders and mentors I've known are people who put others' needs before their own, who make sure their troops are fed before they sit down to eat. But the very best of them are also able to step out of that pattern and to ask for help. I'm not particularly good at this, but I'm learning.
Tonight Amy asked me if there was anything she could do to help me cope with a dark mood that had descended upon me, and initially my mind was blank. "No," I said, "I can't think of anything." But I kept at it and realized that I didn't want her to do anything--I didn't want encouragement or problem-solving. I just wanted empathy--I just wanted her to say, "I'm sorry; that sounds really shitty." I don't need to hear that often or for long, but when I need it, I really need it--and it's much easier for Amy to provide it when I ask for it explicitly.
Take Care of Yourself
This is easy in principle and very hard in practice. By definition people with skin in the game thrive on challenges, and when things get tough we get excited. That attitude helps me overcome obstacles, but it also leads me down some blind alleys. The paradox with coaching--and with any meaningful work--is that it doesn't necessarily yield to sheer effort. When I'm struggling as a professional I can't just muscle through it, and sometimes I need to do just the opposite--ease up, lower my stress levels, take care of myself.
I've learned from people like Bill George, who's "meditated regularly for thirty years, not as a religious or spiritual practice, but as a personal discipline to relieve stress." I've also learned from hard experience that when I let work push exercise off the my daily schedule--once a regular response in times of struggle--I condemn myself to a cycle of overstress and underperformance. I'm also (finally) listening to recent research on the importance of sleep, not only for effective performance but also for long-term health.
The past few days I've been unusually tired, and rather than push myself beyond that limit, I've listened to my body and have gone for walks rather than hitting the gym, or have simply meditated instead. I've also prioritized sleep over work--like leaving this post undone last night and coming back to it this morning. Finally, I have allowed work to push regular sessions with my own coach off the calendar, a situation that'll be rectified this week.
I'm only half-joking--I deeply believe in the power of mindset to shape our reality and, subsequently, our performance. Having skin in the game means that we're subject to high highs and low lows, and it's important to keep those experiences in perspective. In part that ability is a function of life experience--I first read this quote from David Bradford 6 years ago, and it's stuck with me:
If you live long enough, you realize that you can fall off the horse and get back on again... Failure is inevitable, and what's important is how you handle it, not how you avoid it.
But "life experience" is in a way just shorthand for mindset--having failed, and struggled, and simply made mistakes for many years now, I'm no longer up-ended when this occurs. I may be responsible for these events, and I expect to hold myself accountable for them, but I don't view them as intrinsic character flaws.
This isn't to say I'm not subject to grey moods and feelings of frustration or even despair, and when those feelings strike I think it's healthy to acknowledge them. But where I once might have gotten stuck in those moods for longer than was useful, I now find it possible to feel them and let them go, a process that's supported by all the steps mentioned above and also by writing posts like this.
Photo by gingerpig2000.
