"Self-care is a conscious behavior" - Why we neglect our core needs

This is a picture of my kitchen ceiling. On Friday, I was making coffee when I looked up and noticed a 6-inch bubble hanging out above my stove. I did the only thing any sane person would do, which was hop on a chair and poke it, only to have water dribble down my neck. Naturally, my very first thought was:

**&^(^%@#$%)(*@#$%)(@#$%)(@#$%*){#$

...or something similar...you fill in the blanks. 

You see, as a homeowner, I try and take care of my house. I've learned how to use power tools (still have all my fingers), I've replaced my microwave keypad (#winning) and I've learned never to put rice down the garbage disposal (thank you, Plumber Robert!). But there are some upkeep things that I've kind of popped into the category of "I'll get to that later." We all have that list, and if yours is anything like mine, it's generally a tenuous game of Risk Jenga, where the goal is to eventually do THE THINGS before they become BIGGER THINGS. 

So when I saw that 6-inch bubble, my mind instantly went to the unopened bottle of caulk that was sitting in my garage. My Risk Jenga tower began to teeter, and visions of black mold horrors started dancing in my head. 

If I was a rockstar homeowner, I would have been able to deduce that the shower head was dribbling onto the wall and had compromised the seal on my tub faucet (like Plumber Robert did after sawing that hole in my kitchen ceiling). I would have resealed the faucet and chalked up another win for Proper Home Upkeep. But I didn't, so I wasn't.

Often in our lives, we treat our own self-care like that shower faucet. As long as we're functional (and I use that term loosely), we press on with our grueling work hours or our many commitments, promising that we'll take care of ourselves once we're done with whatever it is we need to do. We continue this behavior until we break, which shows itself in a myriad of ways. Tempers may become ragged or the wells of patience run dry. Either way, we crack, and it isn't pretty. 

I deal with chronic stress headaches all the time. You would think that I'd be doing everything I could to get rid of them, yet when it comes to giving my neck and shoulders the exercise and focused care they need, I push those things aside. Maybe I had a long day at work, and I'm just too tired to hit the gym, or I don't like how traction makes my neck feel, so I skip it. Each time, I'm adding another block to my personal game of Risk Jenga. I'm pushing my body's limits, and not in a "this is so awesome I could be an Olympian" way, but more like "where's the Tiger Balm and can I bathe in my own pool of tears" way. 

In an article on Lifehacker, author Kristin Wong discusses self-care and why it's so hard for us to maintain. She says:

“Taking care of your basic physical and emotional needs should really be the backbone for getting stuff done, but ironically, self care is usually the first thing to go. ”

Self-care is hard because it's not a natural priority. It's a conscious behavior that requires active choice. Most of the time, that can seem overwhelming, impossible, or both, which is why we have to reach out to those that care about us and can lend a hand. Because the alternative can be much worse if gone unchecked. My stress-addled nightmare of endless fields of black mold didn't come true, but it just as easily could have. I was lucky to get away with a leaky faucet and a hole in my kitchen ceiling.  

When it comes to priorities, don't confuse selfishness with self-care. In fact, taking care of our core needs can give us the strength to avoid burnout and be a better version of ourselves, which in turn allows us to be more selfless. 

For my part, I'm going to be better about going to the gym. I've even phoned a friend to help keep me accountable.

Now if anyone needs me next weekend, I'm going to be recaulking the entire bathroom.

"Failure forces us to be brave" - Separating fear from failure

A few months ago, I went to lunch with a friend. We’d both been crazy busy and were excited to have an opportunity to catch up. Over the course of two hours, we unpacked on life changes, shared personal challenges, and reflected on the growth that came from them.

Inevitably, our conversation turned to failure, a subject that my friend often struggles with. She’s far from alone—failure haunts us all, and it always amazes me how we can be so fearless in certain aspects of our life, yet so paralyzed when failure looms over our shoulder.

I say looms, because for many of us, failure has been (at one time or another) like a specter: a bogeyman intent on shattering dreams left and right like some pissed-off comic book villain.

My first significant encounter with failure came at the age of 26. I had been involved in theatre since the age of 5, so by this time it had been a part of my life for over 20 years. As a kid, I had the classic goal of every theatre nerd: Broadway or Bust. For over two decades I worked to make that dream a reality, encountering myriad small failures along the way. I weathered those because they were a means to an end. They made my skin tougher and my resolve stronger.

Then, at age 26, life presented me with a tough choice: my dream or my health. I had pushed myself so much to realize my dream that my stress level was off the charts. Even worse, I had neglected to keep my soul safe, sacrificing my well-being to pour everything into this grandiose idea of success and acceptance. As a result, I made myself lactose intolerant, my digestive system was a mess, and I was plagued by chronic headaches. I also watched my close friend and theatre mentor struggle with debilitating neck pain brought on by years of doing a million jobs to make ends meet in the industry.

With a heavy heart, I decided that no dream was worth making myself so sick, and I stepped away from theatre. Of course there were a number of other factors involved, but ultimately my health was the top driver. I was heartbroken. It was incredibly difficult not to see this decision as anything other than an admittance of failure.

Then a funny thing happened.

Over the next ten years, I steadily built a new career in the business world by drawing on the skills I gained from my theatre experience. I found other things that inspired me. Did they give me the same rush as live performance? Not necessarily, but that didn’t mean they were any less meaningful. I also found other creative outlets that I enjoy.

In business, a company’s approach to failure can often mean the difference between innovation and stagnation. Two weeks ago I wrote about the leadership lessons from Pixar found in Creativity, Inc. It’s important to note that failure is a key tenet of Pixar’s creative process. They expect it and welcome it, because they recognize that failure isn’t a specter, it’s a speed bump, however ugly it may seem. Pixar President Ed Catmull says:

“If you aren’t experiencing failure, then you are making a far worse mistake: You are being driven by the desire to avoid it. And, for leaders especially, this strategy—trying to avoid failure by out-thinking it—dooms you to fail.”

In 2000, Dave Eggers published a book called A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (which is amazing, and you should read it). I’ve always loved the title, but I want to turn it inside out for a moment and ask: Without Staggering Failure, how would we find Staggering Genius?

Only when we separate fear from failure do we discover that it’s not the bogeyman we thought it was. Failure forces us to be brave. It pushes us to find the staggering genius in ourselves and live a fuller life. It might break our hearts, but it can mend them too.

"Hugs over Hammers" - When best intentions hurt the ones we love

I am a hammer. I know this. It is one of my greatest assets in the business world, yet one of my biggest challenges. Put me to a bunch of nails and I’ll get those suckers popped in like nobody’s business. But that same passion for getting things done, or driving results forward, also causes me to mistake my thumb (or someone else’s) for a nail on occasion. Ouch.

In these situations, it’s easy to fall into rationalization, the sacred pastime of homo sapiens everywhere. Here’s mine:

Hammer: I’m a hammer. I was just hammering. It’s what I’m good at. It’s not my fault.

Real Me: Yes, but you’re also human. And so is that thumb you just bruised.

Hammer: But people are counting on me to hammer these nails. They’re important.

Real Me: So is a thumb.

Generally when this happens, it’s because the subject is meaningful to me. Because of this, I may also jump from rationalization to defensiveness, picking apart inconsistencies in order to advocate for my position (none of you have ever done that, right?).

This push and pull between attack/defend goes back millennia, to our core survival instincts. History is littered with leaders who crafted great military strategies to gain offensive or defensive advantage. It’s equally littered with the bodies they left in their wake to attain that endgame. We may not fight on those battlefields anymore, but instead the front has shifted to our partners, families, friends, co-workers and other people we care about.   

I recently disappointed someone who came to me with an apology. She had been stressed and snapped at me during a conversation. I’m sure that calling me to say she was wrong took a lot of courage. With the best of intentions, I seized her call as an opportunity to address additional frustrations. My mind told me it was a great way to clear the air and get back to a good place with her. You can fast forward and guess what happened.

What she needed was a hug, and I brought the hammer.

Ouch.

I’m sure you don’t have to think back very far to find a time that this has happened to you. Self-righteousness is an easy weapon to swing when you feel wronged. In an article on www.tinybuddha.com, author Sara Bensman discusses our natural inclination to favor being right over being compassionate. She relates this rationale with our sense of self, saying that we tell ourselves:

“I have been wronged by someone who does not see my value. They are self-centered and are not considering my point of view.

Oddly enough, that is also the story we are acting out. We are refusing to see the others’ point of view; maybe because it puts our own sense of self at risk.

Who am I if I let go of my passionate perspective and wholly understand the others’ point of view? Will the world walk all over me if I don’t stand up for my rights?”

That last sentence really stuck with me, because it’s the hard question many of us push aside. What would happen if I didn’t advocate for myself? Would I disappear? Or would I find the opposite to be true? That by giving up my position and choosing compassion, I’d gain more meaning and connection to those around me?

I am a hammer. I know this. But sometimes a hammer isn’t the right tool to help the human being in front of you. Plus, you can’t truly put yourself in someone else’s shoes if you’re hell-bent on wearing your own.

As Bensman advises:

“Let go of your perspective long enough to feel another person’s pain and put love above winning.”

Or to put it another way:

Hugs over hammers.  

"Climb hills, not mountains" - Why bite-size goals get results

This is me doing a yoga "tree pose." Note that it's supposed to look like this:

Credit: Yoga Time

My goal is to someday do that. At first glance, I would need to be about six to eight inches taller, about 20-30 less pounds lighter, and have a torso you could crack eggs on. But that's not reality, and that's what I love about yoga. It takes all shapes and sizes. My reality is that I'm 5-feet tall, and when you're short, contorting yourself into yoga poses comes with its own degree of difficulty. In my hot yoga class, most of the other students can do tree pose, as well as a whole host of other difficult poses. 

On the one hand, I could say I have a pretty steep yoga learning curve, which might discourage me from going back. Yet, if I look at it from a different perspective, I've got a few poses that I'm actually pretty decent at, with another 10-ish left to go. My long term goal may be to master it like the yogi-est of yogis. My short term goal is to learn tree pose. That's my bite-size goal.

When it comes to tackling goals, people often fail because they bite off far too much. They try to "eat the 10-foot hot dog." The goal is too big, too complex or simply unrealistic. The more complex the goal, the harder it is to create a gameplan for achieving it. Many simply give up. Others start somewhere (anywhere!) and keep spinning until they feel they've either made progress or they're stuck. But even if they've made progress, it's difficult to measure, and measurement is key to achieving your goal(s).

In business, when review time rolls around, many companies ask their employees to come up with SMART goals. The exact interpretations for the acronym vary, but here's a general idea:

S = Specific

M = Measurable

A = Achievable

R = Realistic

T = Time-based

It's easy to blow through the exercise as just one of the myriad acronyms that managers like to dump into their alphabet soup (and a lot of managers treat it that way), but if you stop rolling your eyes and take time to think about it, the concept is powerful. I had to do a whole assignment on SMART goals for my Project Management class and it changed the way I think about objectives. 

If you type "goals" into Google and look at the images, the below image is one of the top results. 

Credit: Greatist

It's supposed to be a motivational image to get you all fired up. However, I know for certain that if I was the dude looking at that mountain, I would not only question my choice of haircut, but likely my sanity. The mountain is huge, it's cold, and he's far too underdressed for such an endeavor. But that's what so many of us do when trying to attack goals. We run headlong into the bottom of the mountain, completely unprepared for the magnitude that awaits us. It's no surprise that we abort the mission more often than we'd like to admit. 

Here's the hard part. Whether it's in your personal or professional life, it's unlikely that you'll have someone to coach you on goal setting or help you develop a roadmap to achieve them. Many leaders aren't good at growing their employees effectively. If you can find that type of mentor, hold on to them, since advice and accountability from someone you respect is a powerful motivator. But ultimately, it's on you to do the heavy lifting. 

So let's shrink the mountain into something more bite-size, like a hill. Here's a nice hill.

It even has a lovely tree that you could rest under after all the exertion. You could even have a little picnic, with wine and cheese and such, to celebrate your hill-climbing success. I don't know about you, but that would definitely fire me up to climb another hill (I'm a sucker for good cheese). 

In a Forbes article on the power of thinking small, Lewis Howes writes:

“The purpose of these smaller goals is not to get you closer to your goal, but to develop the skill of belief. The belief that you can accomplish goals – not steps.”

As I approached my yoga conundrum, I decided that my hill was tree pose. To make the goal more bite-sized, I split it into three parts: balance, focus and flexibility. Then, I tackled the first part:

Balance. 

Each day for a week, I shifted my weight over my hip and rested my opposite foot on my calf. I did my best to hold it for 30 seconds, then switched sides. My goal was to do this at least once a day. What I found was that focus naturally became a part of the exercise, since balance is as much about the mental exercise as it is the physical. 

When I went to hot yoga on Saturday, I still struggled with a lot of the poses. However, when we got to tree pose, I found I was much stronger than the week prior. Yes, my heel was still on my calf, but my balance was much improved. 

So the next time you attempt to set goals, climb hills, not mountains. Develop the skill of belief that you can accomplish goals. Celebrate the small wins, like me being able to stand on one foot for 30 seconds without looking like a spastic tree in a hurricane.

Perhaps someday I'll be able to do this:

Credit: Pop Sugar

...or maybe I'll just be a really good tree.

"Include people in your problems" - Leadership lessons from Pixar

In 2015 I was going on a short vacation and needed a good book to read by the pool. Creativity, Inc. seemed to fit the bill. A book about the birth of Pixar? SOLD!

What I didn't realize is that this book would have the biggest impact any book has ever had on my views of leadership and building company culture. I highlighted so much that I'm amazed there was any white space left.

Ed Catmull (currently President of Pixar and Walt Disney Animation Studios) is an unlikely source of business advice. This is nothing against him, there are just others out there with bigger names who've cornered the "business guru" market. Yet, his humble approach to motivating people and fierce dedication to creating meaningful stories is extremely compelling. I couldn't stop reading. It was like crack for creatives and business leaders alike. 

The book traverses Ed's early career as a computer scientist, through the creation of Pixar, their partnership with Disney, and eventual acquisition. It describes how they built a culture where each employee was a guardian for the brand, as well as the stories they told. There are some nice nuggets about Steve Jobs along the way. 

Here are some of my takeaways.

1. Assume positive intent.

“We start from the presumption that our people are talented and want to contribute. We accept that, without meaning to, our company is stifling that talent in myriad unseen ways. Finally, we try to identify those impediments and fix them.”

This has been my greatest lesson as a leader. Flipping the paradigm of "so-and-so has a bad attitude" to "what's really going on, and how can I help fix the problem?" is a crucial step to understanding where the bottlenecks lie and freeing up great people to do what they do best. If we start with the presumption that we will always be unintentionally strangling our employees' ability to be effective, then our objective is straightforward: clear the path. 

2. Get buy-in.

“Clearly, it wasn’t enough for managers to have good ideas—they had to be able to engender support for those ideas among the people who’d be charged with employing them.”

Credit: KelownaNow.com

As a business leader, it doesn't matter how awesome my idea might be if I can't get anyone on the bus. And I know from experience that pulling from in front (or pushing from behind) is not the way to Happy Employee Land. Whether the idea is mine or someone else's, it's important that we find a way to communicate it so that our employees a) understand it, b) know why we've chosen it, and c) feel like they're an important part of executing it (in a positive way, not a "holy crap this is intense" way). This may involve varying degrees of weigh-in as the idea evolves, which means you have to understand the types of personalities on your team. I have failed to secure buy-in many times by standardizing a message for a group instead of personalizing it based on who I'm talking to.

3. Promote candor.

“No matter what, the process of coming to clarity takes patience and candor...candor is only valuable if the person on the receiving end is open to it and willing, if necessary, to let go of things that don’t work.

Candor isn’t cruel. It does not destroy. On the contrary, any successful feedback system is built on empathy, on the idea that we are all in this together, that we understand your pain because we’ve experienced it ourselves.”

Many people confuse candor with curtness or attach other negative connotations. In fact, the definition of candor is as follows:

can·dor 

noun

1. the quality of being open and honest in expression; frankness.

At its heart, candor means being real--being open about what you think, even if you might be a dissenting voice. But the essence of candor also aligns with positive intent. It doesn't give you a license to be rude to someone else. I admit that I've often been guilty of being too blunt when I should have been candid. In each case, it was because I cared deeply for what we were talking about, and didn't stop to think if I was being candid or just brutally honest (emphasis on the brutal). Candor is a necessity in business, and when effectively utilized, it can elicit valuable feedback and ideas.

4. Be transparent, especially about problems.

“People want decisiveness, but they also want honesty about when you’ve effed up...
It’s a huge lesson: Include people in your problems, not just your solutions.”

The old adage "never let them see you sweat" has slowly been shifting out of use in business. I can point to multiple times in my career when I recognized a major problem and barreled forward, confident that I could get to a solution without involving others. I'm sure it won't come as a shock that I crashed and burned. More and more as teams work closely and have to quickly adapt to change, vulnerability at all levels, especially management, becomes of vital importance. Involving your people in problems as soon as possible not only allows them to see you as a normal human being, but gives them the opportunity to be a part of the solution. 

I won't lie, though. There are still times when I have to remind myself that showing vulnerability is ok. Years of white-knuckling through issues are hard to unwind. 

The few topics I included here are just a sliver of the amazing story you'll read if you pick up Creativity, Inc. If you decide to read it (and I hope you do), please do come back here and tell me what you thought. 

I'll leave you with this final note from Ed:

“Companies, like individuals, do not become exceptional by believing they are exceptional but by understanding the ways in which they aren’t exceptional.”