Really Vulnerable

A friend asked, “Do you ever say ‘no’ to a prospective client?”

“Oh, yes,” I replied. “I’ve even fired clients.”

“Really?!?”

Once upon a time, an acquaintance approached me about being coaching on professional development. We’ll call this person by the wonderfully-androgenous-not-his/her-real-name, Pat.

At Pat’s very first coaching appointment, I noticed a verbal habit. Every story included the phrase, “…and the problem with that is….” After several repetitions, I brought this pattern to Pat’s attention.

“I notice that you say ‘and the problem with that is’ quite often. How might you relate the same story you just told and conclude with ‘and the best thing about that is…’ instead?

Unlike practically every person I’ve ever worked with, Pat became noticeably huffy at this suggestion. In fact, Pat appeared quite irritated.

“There is no best thing about that!” Pat huffed.

Really?!? I thought.

Pat went on, growing more and more defensive. I’d make a suggestion and Pat would dive in, “Why are you making suggestions when you don’t know what’s going on? That’s just bad coaching.”

Really?!? I thought, again.

The interminable damn coaching session went on and on like this. Every time I’d ask a coaching question, Pat would shoot me down, become more and more aggressive with the comebacks.

When it, thank god, finally ended, I sat back, shellshocked, and thought to myself, “What the hell have I gotten myself into?” And then I knew what I had to do.

I called Pat up and said, in my firmest, calmest coach’s voice. “We’re not a good fit. You don’t owe me anything and your future appointments are cancelled.”

Predictably, Pat hung up on me.

###

Sometimes, when I become aware of my tendencies–especially when I hear the phrases I habitually speak out loud–I want to react a lot like Pat did.  There are times when I just don’t want to know myself that well. Mostly that’s because I’m dismayed disgusted by what I hear coming out of my own mouth.

I want to grab the words and stuff them back into my craw. An impossible feat but one I’d love to pull off, just once.

The reason I get so disgusted is that I feel like my true self is somehow being revealed. And the real me looks awfully yucky. Like wearing a bad bride’s maid dress in a really unflattering color under fluorescent lighting. Ick. No pictures, please.

This is part of being vulnerable, of course: looking like a horse’s patootie in a bad bride’s maid dress. And like that dress, it’s all in what you do with it after the event is over. No, I don’t mean give it to Goodwill. I mean taking a good long look at it and searching for it’s good side.

The last time I said something incredibly stupid (yes, out loud), I followed it up with, “What I really mean is…” and then went on to reveal the really real me, the one who was scared and overwhelmed and awkward.

Brene Brown, in her wonderfully wise book, The Gifts of Imperfection says that the root of the word courage actually means ‘To speak one’s mind by telling all one’s heart.’ She writes, “…we’ve lost touch with the idea that speaking honestly and openly about who we are, about what we’re feeling, and about our experiences (good and bad) is the definition of courage. … Ordinary courage is about putting our vulnerability on the line. In today’s world, that’s pretty extraordinary.”

###

I ran into Pat sometime ago at a business function. Naturally, we ended up in the buffet line together. It was impossible for me to pretend Pat wasn’t there and for Pat to pretend I wasn’t there. I looked for something nice to say and settled on the new eyeglass frames Pat was sporting.

“I love your new frames,” I enthused. “That’s such a gorgeous color!”

“Oh, thanks,” Pat replied. “But the problem with them is…” Pat’s face turned a rather funny color, a bit like the color of the frames. Pat’s mouth snapped shut.

Really!