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Resilience


I’m reading Brené Brown’s book The Gifts of Imperfection: Let Go of Who You Think You’re Supposed toBe and Embrace Who You Are.

There’s a lot of good stuff in there. Read it. Or check out her website and watch some videos.

The chapter I just read was about resilience. One of the essential elements of resilience is cultivating hope.

Hope and I have had a difficult relationship. I’ve been in love with her and also seen her be a backstabbing bitch.

But let’s get sciency about it. Brown presents research by C.R. Snyder that explains that hope is not an emotion, but rather a thought process that includes these attributes:

  • We have the ability to set realistic goals (I know where I want to go).
  • We are able to figure out how to achieve those goals, including the ability to stay flexible and develop alternative routes (I know how to get there, I’m persistent, and I can tolerate disappointment and try again).
  • We believe in ourselves (I can do this!). (Brown, 65)

Also, hope is learned. It is a choice. It is practiced.

…

I was interviewed the other day by my dear friend Hilary for an article she’s writing for class. It was about my “career.” I tried not to balk at that label. Because that’s what it is. A career. I have built a career. Whoa.

She asked some good questions about when I’ve felt successful or when I’ve faced difficulty as a freelancer.

The hardest thing is when I have to perfectly time my bill payments with my paychecks. That shit is stressful.

But you know what? I am grateful for this time in my life. I am learning so much about my capacity. I can plan, I can budget, I can say “no,” and I can be scrappy as hell.

And you know what? I do believe in myself. Sometimes I’ll be figuring out bills, workload, personal stuff—getting really worked up. And I will just stop, pick up a pen, and write to myself, “You can do this. You can absolutely do this.”

You have to believe in yourself if you’re gonna make it as a freelancer. I think Brené is right: Believing in yourself is key to resilience. And resilience is damn vital to freelancing.

The other thing is, you gotta have people around you who believe in you. A lot of current research about resilience says you need to be able to ask for help and have social support and be connected in order to be resilient.

For me, that’s meant good, good friends who have cheered me on. It’s been mentors who are also solopreneurs and have made this life work. And it’s been my mom telling me she’s never worried that I’ll make it.

It’s like clapping your hands to bring Tink back to life. “I do believe in fairies. I do! I do!”

You need those people who will shout or whisper: I believe in you. And you need to shout and whisper it to yourself.

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Time for idle

You gotta read this: The “Busy” Trap

A few short excerpts:

Busyness serves as a kind of existential reassurance, a hedge against emptiness; obviously your life cannot possibly be silly or trivial or meaningless if you are so busy.

The space and quiet that idleness provides is a necessary condition for standing back from life and seeing it whole, for making unexpected connections and waiting for the wild summer lightning strikes of inspiration — it is, paradoxically, necessary to getting any work done.

Tim Kreider brings up some incredible points about the importance of idleness—that it’s actually essential to any kind of innovation.

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Work and self-care

I got mono and strep throat this month.

I was pretty irritated. I needed to be working. I’d moved and taken a lot of time off to pack and unpack. I was ready to have my life back, but instead I was told to sleep. And it’s all I could do.

A friend sent me this:

Mono and strep sounds pretty awful. I am sure that you catching up on sleep, I would imagine that sleep is a big part of the recovery. You seem like you might be someone who is not real good about getting adequate sleep…? 

I used to not sleep much myself, and I had lots of really good reasons. I need a certain amount of quiet time, sometimes I get a burst of creativity late at night, lot of work to do, etc., etc., etc. And then someone far wiser than I am pulled me aside and reminded me that the intervention can only be as healthy as the intervener. The first and most important task, the most radical and political act is in taking good care of yourself so that the world may be appropriately educated, enlightened and irritated by your full contribution. 

Here’s the great thing about mono. I have to sleep. I have to take care of myself. I don’t really have a choice.

And my work is coming in between those times. My schedule is no longer dictated by anything except my need to sleep. I am only doing what’s best for me. And you know what? It is radical. It’s different from how I’ve ever lived. And it’s pretty awesome.

I will leave you with a recording of my strep voice.

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Not the enemy

It should go without saying that if I’m working for you, I’m on your team. PLAY ME! PUT ME IN! USE MY SKILLS!

(Yes, yes. I know I’ve already written a whole post about being part of the team. But, seriously. There’s more to say.)

The most exciting corporations and organizations I hear about treat employees with deep value.

This RSA Animate video has been around for a while, but if you haven’t seen it, watch it! At least watch 5:00-6:45.

Once you pay people enough to take the issue of money off the table so they can focus on work, three factors lead to better performance and personal satisfaction.

The one I want to talk about is autonomy. People want to be self-directed. And this is where innovation comes from.

A software company has a quarterly day where the employees can work on anything they want. Just show us what you’ve been working on at the end of the day. It’s been an incubator for fixes for existing issues as well as new product ideas.

The message that this company is telling its employees: You probably want to do something interesting; let me get out of your way.

It is a message of trust, of respect. Man, if all companies could act that way, just imagine what could emerge.

Instead, leaders often mistrust employees. It can often seem like employees are purposefully held back from reaching their potential.

Why? Is it because leaders are afraid of being outshone? Are they afraid of change? Or do they really just value their employees so little?

I don’t know. But feeling any of this is life-sucking.

 

Threat Level: Midnight

One of the things that often frustrated me at a former place of employment was how my generation was consistently degraded.

It really and truly felt like we were the enemy.

We were regularly educated about the hardships of working with Gen Y/the Millennials. Educated as in with research, which was read aloud to the entire staff.

The message I got was: Here’s what’s wrong with your kind; this is why I don’t trust you.

I’m not sure the exact goal in this. Make us mistrust ourselves? Humble us and cut us down to size? Assert yourselves, therefore, as naturally better than us?

The stuff we’d hear was often true. Millennials have been brought up in a you-are-special and you-can-do-anything-you-put your-mind-to kind of world. This leads to some pride, some narcissism, some naiveté. (I admit to this being true in me.)

Ok.

But how about instead of increasing threat level to midnight, why don’t you learn to USE US?! Harness the power and energy Gen Y can bring.

Yes, you’ve been through a lot more life, and you deserve respect. But please don’t discount us.

We want to be part of the team—and we buy in, big time. Just check out the sweet infographic below, from MBA@UNC.

I just think we can all play a role and get to a better place when we work together, each member trusted and valued, whatever generation or in whatever way we are different. In fact, I think the more different, probably the better.

 
Gen Y In the Workplace Via MBA@UNC
Via MBA@UNC Online Business Degree & The YEC

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This is not early retirement.

Some days work looks like this.

In casual conversation with friends, this question is asked a lot: “Are you working tomorrow?”

It bristles me every time.
I know that they are asking if I’m working the one job that I have set hours for.  I know, in that logical, believe-the-best-about-people part of my brain, that they are surely not implying that I don’t work.
But it still feels like the implication is that I don’t work hard or often enough. As a freelancer, the way in which I work seems to be invalid to many people. So I’m often on the defensive, too eager to validate myself and the work I’m doing. I want to retort, “You know, six out of seven days, the answer will be ‘YES.’ So please think before you ask me that again.” Or I want to ask if they are working tomorrow, because I know it’s possible to go to the office and not do a lick of work.
I even once had a friend joke about this being early retirement. Hyuk, hyuk. I did not have a sense of humor about it.
I have lightened up a bit as I’ve gotten a little more secure in my work. Now I can tease and say, “Naw, I’m gonna hit the beach.”
Or … I rub it in. I say, “We’ll see. I really love my flexible schedule. I think I’ll at least sleep in.”
Sometimes. Sometimes I can be genuine. I can express humble gratitude for having a flexible schedule that allows me to do things I wouldn’t if I had a 9-to-5.
And the other thing is, I am pretty generous with my flexibility. I run errands for people. I visit people (e.g. in the hospital or home with a new baby) during the day because other friends can’t, and that can be a long, lonely stretch. I take people’s kids places. I mean, none of this is all the time, but I do try to share the benefit of an open schedule. And it feels good, a fit for me who feels friendship is part of her calling.
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Part of the team

(Written in October 2011)


Pat called me tonight. We’d met this morning so I could show him what I’d been working on. A typical Monday morning, he was getting slammed with phone calls and trying to set up meetings. It was not convenient timing for him, but we didn’t have much choice and wanted to make sure we were on the same page.

I’d been working pretty hard, especially that past week. But I wasn’t sure it showed. There are a lot of pieces that go into design, especially creating something new. And I was concerned that he’d be disappointed I wasn’t further along in the process.

He seemed pretty happy with how things were looking, and then we discussed a few other projects that I’ll be working on.

We wrapped up in a rush, him late for a meeting and on a phone call.

“How do you feel?” he asked me, making sure I felt a grasp on what was at hand, and that he’d given me everything I needed for the moment.

“Good,” I said, and smiled. I did feel good. I have a lot to do, but I am enjoying it. And I feel like we’re all on the same team — something I cherish.

He’s a kind and generous man — a little rough around the edges, but with a soft underbelly. I’ve known of him for four years, and long had a tender place in my heart for him because of how he takes care of my friends, who are renters of his property. Take care of my friends, and you’ll have my loyalty immediately.

And now I’m in. I get to work with this paternal figure. And he’s a good man. The kind you feel lucky to know. The kind you want on your team. And he’s on mine.

So, tonight, he called. He called just to tell me that he appreciates the work I’ve been doing. He feels like I’m on the right track, and he’s encouraged.

A similar instance happened last week with a different employer. I had created a three-piece info packet. The main sheet was a flyer about who we are and why we do what we do and what we offer. I did design and created the content.

First of all, when I showed Lindsey one of the concepts I’d come up with, she gasped. She loved it. That shot some endorphins into my system.

And the other day, she was taking some of the flyers out to deliver them, and spent some time reading them. She later told me that she’d almost called me right then to tell me how well-written the information was, how it said what she wanted it to say with words she didn’t think she could have come up with.

These two instances of direct positive feedback from bosses I respect on work I am proud of … they meant more to me than I can say.

I didn’t realize how low my work confidence was. I thought, “Well, I think it’s pretty good. But we’ll see.”

I’m not trying to say that these things I’m designing are that impressive. (I am not a designer.) And I’m sure the writing could be improved, too.

But I’ve bought into these two small-business owners. I care about them. I want to do the best work I can. I want my work to help their businesses. That heart probably shows through. I hope so, anyway.

And being recognized for putting my heart into my work … holy shit, I’m not being treated like the enemy. I’m being told “you get it — I’m so glad” rather than the opposite. And this is after months, not years, of being part of the team.

I’m not being treated as subversive. My ideas are welcomed. My opinion matters. My talent matters. The shit I’ve learned in school and work experience matters.

I feel valued. I feel trusted. I’m part of the fucking team.

And they are PAYING ME to do this work!


 

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How I work

My glasses are huge. They make me think of Harry Caray. This is my tribute.

I carry a full heart.

I fall in love with people and places, traditions and stories. I have a loud, contagious [sometimes obnoxious] laugh, and I am moved to tears by both sad and beautiful things.

I love words, and even more than words I love story.

I knew I wanted to write in high school. I loved fiction. In college, I majored in journalism and became obsessed with truth; I couldn’t imagine creating fiction that is better than the real-life characters all around me. Already a deeply relational person, I wanted to know more about people. This soon developed into an understanding and a fascination with story. I came to understand that what connects me to a piece of writing, to a character — either fictional or not — is story. And everybody has a story …

But first, first you must own your own story.

Over the past few years, I have been staking claim to my life. I have been making it my own, accepting and loving who I am.

Part of this journey has meant that I’ve walked out on the old way of doing things. I’m making a new way. And I’m not alone. I have happily found a community of support, mentors and clients, interested in this new way.

So this is how I work: with trust and honesty — with vulnerability.

That’s the method. The meat is words. I am good with words.

I am very fortunate to be doing work that I love. And I’m a downright lucky dog to have been moving in this direction for so long without much premeditation.

I have written for and edited books, websites and blogs, newspapers, and magazines. And I’ve coached a few ordinary people to write what’s been on their hearts, reminding them over and over again: A writer is someone who writes.

I believe deeply in team. If I’m working with you, well, by golly, we’re on a team. I am for you. If that means I’m helping you get to what you really want to say, encouraging you to keep at your writing, developing content for you in your voice, or writing in a voice of my own, I want us to be wholeheartedly on the same page.

What is the story we’re going to communicate together?

 

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Well, maybe some idea

Ok, so I said I have NO idea how I’ve made it the past year and a half as a freelancer. That’s not exactly true. I mean, I know a few things that have helped.

1. I have been willing to work really hard doing almost anything.
I’ve worked six days a week (sometimes seven) for the past year and a half, apart from the trips I’ve taken. I have done really random tasks like mowing, stripping paint, alphabetizing card collections, filing, organizing an estate sale, dog-walking, stuffing envelopes, and errand-running. These are in addition to the things I actually have some skill for or training in: writing, editing, designing a catalog, developing web content, coaching a writer.

I’ve worked with a wide variety of people and companies, including a sports field company, a massage spa, authors, friends, a life coach, a physician, artists, entrepreneurs, a non-profit, and an advertising agency.

2. That all being said, I have said no to some things, and I am refining my yeses.
Some months ago, I had an interview for a corporate job. The thought of it made me feel icky, even though I would have made three and a half times the money I made last year. I said no so I could remain open to the possibilities that were unfolding before me—which haven’t proven more lucrative, but I really don’t give a damn.

3. I’ve figured out the things that matter to me and the things that don’t.
Making a lot of money has never been that big a draw to me. I want to have enough to live comfortably (in my definition of that term) and to be able to bless those around me in simple ways. My intention for money has been: I have ample money to thrive. I am developing this idea more, but even when I’ve complained or been stressed about finances, I love my life.

I also don’t care about climbing some invisible power ladder. People are more important to me than position. I know there are incredible opportunities in other cities doing really cool work, but I have developed family/friendmily here, and I don’t want to leave.

I do, however, value the freedom of living outside the 9-5 box. I love choosing my clients (i.e. I don’t work with people or doing tasks that make me feel icky). I love that I’m getting to do so many things I enjoy and am getting to learn and experiment. I love that I am rooted locally. I love that if I want to write a blog post in the middle of a work day, I just write it. I love that my different roles have informed the others, even though they are so vastly different.

4. I’ve had help.
So many people have helped me. So many people believe in me. It’s amazing and humbling. I was talking about this with a group of women who are all solopreneurs. This group, of course, has been a great help to me, both as a whole and as individuals. Coaching, help with intention, advice, comparing notes, inspiration, asking the right questions. Whew. I am lucky to know each one of them.

At one gathering, I was telling them about how I’ve made it without knowing how, and about how thankful I am to have so many people supporting me and hiring me.

One of the women interrupted me, someone whose website I’ve worked on. “Do you really think we’ve hired you because we hoped you’d make rent? We’ve hired you because we believe you are the best person for the job.”

Wow. Ok. I will try to accept that as true, even though I think maybe you all who have employed my varied services are a bit biased.

At any rate, I’ve been hired by many friends and colleagues. I’ve been recommended to friends or associates of friends. It’s all very humbling.

I’ve also been helped in very practical ways, like my parents helping me purchase the laptop that has made any ounce of independent contracting possible. Or the client who purchased me the Adobe Creative Suite, yes for his benefit, but also because it would help me in the long run to have all the programs.

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How’s THAT going?

When I tell people I’m a freelancer, their first response is always, “Oh! How’s that going?”

It doesn’t matter how well I know them. Of course this question would be appropriate if you had some context for how huge of a shift this was from the work I’d done before. But it seems a little funny when a stranger calls to get information for my alma mater’s alumni book and the question of occupation comes up. Or my landlady, who wasn’t asking because she was worried about me making rent but because it’s fascinating that people live this way.

What they’re really asking is: “How does that work?”

I’m feeling rather honest at the moment. So, here’s a few things.

One. I will always tell you that it’s going well. That it’s an adventure and exciting and that every day is different. Those things are mostly true. It has gone pretty well, most of the time. It is an adventure. Every day is different. But that is the most watered-down version of the truth. And it is likely the only one I’ll give you. (However, if you are a good friend or are present while I am working, you may glean more of the truth.)

Two. The answer to your real question [“How does that work?”] is: I have NO idea. I have been doing this for a year and a half, and I have made it, and I have no idea how! Haha! I am stupid lucky! (More on this in the next post.)