Little Lion Man
“I’d much rather talk about vulnerability than show it”.
This thought popped into my had the other day as I was walking in the forest. It’s not often you experience a zinger from yourself, so it gave me a bit of a start. That, and the fact that I know it’s true.
The first time I came across Brene Brown was her TED talk. I knew it was really important for me to hear it but I didn’t really connect with it. I watched it, and her second one, a few times and it was the same feeling. Then I bought her book, “Daring Greatly”, read it through and realised that I had read it but I hadn’t really understood it. So I read it again. Then I read it third time and made notes. Finally, I felt like I was beginning to connect with her message, absorbing it into my own thinking.
I got her subsequent books, listened to several podcasts, embraced her teachings. I often talk to people about the importance of vulnerability, of being about to admit weakness, of being unsure and uncertain, of being able to turn to others for support.
In fact, I think I was always pretty good at being vulnerable in the workplace, in my role as a leader. I don’t have a big ego, I’ve never pretended I have all the answers, that I did it all myself or that I never make mistakes.
But outside of that narrow field, it’s been a different story. I find it much harder to be open, to be connected with my emotions, to ask for help. I’ve always been a good listener, I know I am a rock for others, unflappable and patient, helpful and supportive. That’s my go-to role, even when it doesn’t serve me. It’s much easier for me to create a space for others to be vulnerable than to actually go there myself.
So I talk about it. The thing I actually struggle with. Because it’s easier to talk than to do.
And I’ve realised that lots of other people do that as well. Some of them consciously, as ‘wounded healers’ who want to help others. Many of them without thinking, though, revealing themselves in ways they are unaware of.
Now, that’s an interesting lens to view the pronouncements of others through.
A Well Respected Man
The other thing that I learn from this is just how hard it can be to let go of roles that we have adopted, to step out of them or to reframe them in a way that is more helpful to us. We play many roles, many we have taken on without really realising or thinking about, and they become part of who we are.
Some roles are related to particular situations or relationship groups. Obviously, this is true of family, where we can never quite shake off our position in the make-up. As the youngest, I was always bottom of the pecking order in our family dynamic and when we got together I found myself both being put into that role and also slipping into it without thinking. Afterwards I’d think, “How did that happen? Again?!!”.
Other roles are projected onto us by society. As a husband and father, I feel certain obligations, such as to be the protector and provider. I don’t know where these feelings come from, it’s not the expectations of my family and I am not usually driven by external pressures and yet they are deep within me. When I feel I am failing at these, it hurts. Not just emotionally but physically too.
Of course, a trap many fall into is to over-associate with their career roles (guilty as charged, your honour!). Their identity is so deeply tied up with the role they play at work that the removal of that roles is an existential threat.
I think this explains a lot of the defensiveness we see in the debate about the future of work. People see the roles that they play are in danger of becoming redundant, being swept away by the change. They may not even be consciously aware of this but they sense it. And even if they know they should change, it can be really hard to let go and learn a new role.
I’m not saying that they are right to resist. Some of the positions they take are aggressive, offensive even, and damaging to others. Yes, they are protecting their own self-interest but it goes deeper than that, they are protecting their very sense of self.
So let’s see them with some compassion and understanding. You might well do the same if you were in their shoes.
Don’t get angered and upset by their antics. They’re not just being stubborn, they are in a struggle with themselves.
We need to use that insight to overcome them.
My Generation
“They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.”
These lines have become famous because they hold a universal truth. Philip Larkin isn’t blaming parents, he says they are just part of a continuing process and goes on to say “Man hands on misery to man”. (The full poem is here)
I wonder what Larkin, who worked as a librarian, would have written if he’d worked in a modern, large organisation? Because it seems to me that the workplace today can ‘fuck you up’ a lot more than your mum and dad, who at least give you love and affection (in most cases). None more so than those that proclaim they are all ‘one big family’.
Too often today, organisations ask for your loyalty, your creativity, your commitment and, yes, your vulnerability and yet offer little of substance in return. They may offer some simulacrum of care but ultimately you are expendable and disposable. No organisation is going to be with you forever, in your moments of greatest need, through thick and thin.
It’s completely unreasonable for an organisation to ask you to be ‘part of the family’ and 'commit yourself fully’. In a family setting, if a parent was demanding love and demonstrations of devotion without returning any affection in return then it would be called abuse. That’s the behaviour of a narcissist or a psychopath.
It’s also deeply ironic that organisations make such personal and intrusive demands of people but also do little to understand and acknowledge the personal world of the same people.
As Larkin points out, this is a cycle. We can see this, as people who have had poor managers learn bad habits and repeat the same deficient approaches on their charges, perpetuating the damage. His advice is to “Get out as early as you can” but I don’t think that’s the answer. We have to break the cycle of abuse.
I Love The Sound Of Breaking Glass
I believe the best way to do that is to encourage and enable the emerging leaders, the people in junior and middle management positions, to use their agency bring about change and, well, to decrapify work.
So I am starting a bit of an experiment, I want to run a group coaching/peer support/leadership training mash-up to try out some ideas and find out what works. You may have seen me post about this on LinkedIn.
If you are interested in finding out more, or know some people who might be, then there’s more details on my website here.
(Oh my god, I just asked for help! There’s hope yet …)
Cake By The Ocean
This newsletter got delayed because some friends came around for cup of tea on Friday and I had a jolly good natter instead of writing this. Priorities, people. Be sure you make time for what makes you feel good, we’re still in stressful times and you need to look after yourselves.
It’s so true about roles. I’ve always been the “good listener” person too, and a fixer. When you yourself need fixing you can run into trouble especially if you overlay the traditional male “I’ve got this” kind of approach to everything, which precludes asking (nay demanding) help and support.