Published (updated: ) in Uncategorized.
Saturday, June 25, 2016
Here’s a little something I wrote this week during an intense emotional experience. You know, reading some of these after writing them, I have a much harder time clicking the “publish” button. What if people don’t like it? What if it’s too personal for public consumption? And then I remember, this isn’t about me looking good. It’s not about those who disagree or don’t like the message. It’s about sharing my experience and sharing something that I might find helpful if I was the reader. If you don’t find it helpful, sorry I’ve wasted your time. Think of those who might be helped and share it with them, that’s what I’m doing, not because I’m an angel (I’d like to tell you I am and I get some pleasure telling my closest friends I am, but they don’t believe me for a second), but because it’s what I’ve been taught by some people who cared in my life. Here goes nothing:
To all those I’ve let down, hurt, disappointed over the years: I am sorry. I knew not what I did, but I do now. I can think of several vivid memories where the jig was up, I gave in, I caved, ‘okay, mercy!’ my entire being called out.
Maybe 11 years old. Brother and Dad ribbing me. I can’t take it anymore. I scream and run out of the cabin and down the gravel road, yelling like someone possessed and eventually crying because I just don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to handle myself. Not to mention, it’s the middle of winter and my feet aren’t tough enough to run in gravel like they would be in the summer.
High school, freshman year. Game going poorly. Defensive players getting to MY quarterback in what seems like play after play. Halftime comes. “Coach, I just don’t have it in me. You’ve got to put someone else in, I’m letting the whole team down.” Actually, that sounded much better. In reality, those words were spoken between uncontrolled sobs.
See, the truth is, I want desperately to be a part of. To rise to the occasion, to look like I’m capable of more than my status (age, physical, past achievement, whatever) might indicate. I posture. I power grab. I play politics. I manipulate. I take what’s mine. I say “Yeah, I’m up to it.” It’s all I know. I have to, otherwise, you may not want me around.
Spring semester, 2010. Brother got me a job at the local crane manufacturer where he’s working. My job is to sweep the floors. I can’t do it. The guys aren’t nice. I have school. The culture here just isn’t for me. For God sakes, I’ve worked at a desk most of my life at the ripe age of 21! I’m not cut out for this shit!
January 23-25, 2015. From June 2013 to now, I’ve done everything I can to keep my head above water. I tried my management style. I was hard, ruthless. ‘We need productivity and if you can’t do it, I don’t have a spot for you on the team.’ ‘Need help Justin?’ ‘No, I got this. How dare you help me, don’t you know I can do this on my own? Not to mention, I’m not about to allow you to get some credit for the success I’m about to achieve.’ Two hospital visits and 48 hours later, ‘Okay, mercy!’ came the tried and true refrain.
You see, what happens before I get into these situations is I bite off more than I can chew. 2 against 1 in a ribbing contest, defensive lineman and linebackers coming at a 5 foot nothing 135lb undersized offensive lineman, part time work and full time school where I have to get straight A’s (not really, but my mind tells me so), and supervising an extremely complex fixed asset accounting function at a major research university where things haven’t run real well in a decade and I have no prior experience.
I’ve got a grandiose imagination. An ego the size of the sun. A ‘can do’ attitude and the moxie to get people to believe in me, even though deep down, I don’t believe in myself.
In my imagination, moxie is all I need. If I think it, believe it, it will come true. In the real world, moxie doesn’t get me very far, just far enough to get in too deep. And that wouldn’t be so bad, but add on an unwillingness to ask for help, a childish “No, I can do it myself” attitude (imagine your best childish voice), and what we get is a recipe for blowups. Major blowups.
Then, what else comes but remorse. Because, you see, even though I let you down; even though I got you to believe in me and you did; it was a little confidence and a lot of posturing that got us here. And, now, the cat’s out of the bag: I just can’t do it. I’m sorry, I helped us get this far, but, that’s it, you’re going to have to do the rest without me because I’m done. I hit my limit before you thought or I thought I would.
So, I’m sorry. I guess I fooled both of us. And that’s not to say you’re a fool. Quite the contrary, you’re a hopeful, supportive, human being who wants to believe in others and is willing to back it up with action. You jumped in on this with me knowing full well it could turn out bad. But you’re an adult, you know shit happens and people are sometimes unreliable. That doesn’t matter to you because it’s part of life. If someone did to me what I did to you….well, that’s a subject for another time.
And there you have it, I am sorry to the people I’ve let down and thank you for believing in me. To all those who have supported me in situations where I didn’t feel like I measured up: thank you for your encouragement, for your pep talks, for saying “No, Justin, you do have it in you to do this.” Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. None of this would be so bad in and of itself. It’s the combination of many modi operandi acting together that makes it so bad.
Here’s the payoff for all those times I hurt you. The lesson today: No less moxie is necessary. No less confidence or posturing. No less ‘can do’. What’s required is one simple change: “Please, I’ve hit my limit. Can you help me? I’ll do whatever you say.” (Which, for those who are thick-headed like me and need it put clearly, is an action requiring less ego.)
