A year with a little less fear

A year ago, I was feeling the need to let go of some of the fear in my life. I claimed "fearless" as my word for 2009, and to kick it off, I made a little video about it...



It's been an interesting year. I took yoga for the first time, despite the fear of letting my clumsiness show. Yes, there was the odd time when I went left when the rest of the class went right and the teacher had to gently correct me, but I loved it none-the-less.

I took a watercolour class and fell in love with painting. In September, I went to Cleveland for a little more creative digging.  I practiced calling myself an artist. Next week, I'm starting a drawing class, and I CAN'T WAIT.

I entered an international photo contest and was named one of the runners-up, I won a Communicator of the Year award for taking some chances and launching some big ideas, and - when a film project started hitting the rails - I stepped in and took over much of the leadership.

I launched a new website, held a big launch party, and then got a bunch of interesting people to write guest posts for me. But then I realized that I'd bitten off more than I could chew and this really wasn't the direction I needed to take right now, so I swallowed my pride and shut it down. That probably took more courage than starting it in the first place.

It turned out, though, that the biggest lessons I had to learn about fearlessness were in the area of leadership.  I wish I could tell you that I've conquered that mountain, but I've still got lots of climbing to do.  And some of the climbing seemed to take me in the wrong direction.

There were a lot more leadership challenges this year than I'd anticipated.  Almost a year ago, with great intrepidation, I bared my soul to my team and challenged them to be more honest with me and with each other. It was scary, but there were positive results that made it worthwhile.  (I have the same retreat coming up in a couple of weeks again, and I'm approaching it with a healthy mix of hope that we've moved forward and fear that I'll fall flat on my face.) A little later in the year, I put forward a huge proposal to the board for more funds and more staff, and though there was resistance, it was approved and I could move forward. I've hit lots of roadblocks since then, though, and some days I wish I'd kept those big ideas to myself. Some of the resistance came from within my team, and oh... I just get so weary of having to drag people forward when they don't want to carry the vision. Plus, on top of all of that, there's a never-ending court case that I can't say much about, but that has caused a lot of stress (and way too many conversations with people who've heard lies about me) in the last 4 years. 

I got a little more hopeful in the fall, when I started hiring new staff, but I've hit some major roadbumps since then, so the hope seems a little questionable right now.

What can I say about trying to live more fearlessly?  Well... it has definitely opened me up to new experiences and new delights. I don't regret the new things I've tried, especially in the area of exploring more art.

But with each step we take toward courage, there's bound to be some force trying to push us back to where we were before. There's no doubt that I am a stronger, more bold leader than I was a year ago, but the journey to get here has been fraught with rough patches, challenging relationships, road blocks, and snarls. I'm feeling pretty beaten up by it all right now. There have been many moments this past year when I've wanted to throw in the towel and just find a job where I didn't have to carry the weight of responsibility.

But I will carry on, because, despite the challenges, I feel called to this role and I believe that I am making a difference.  Last week, in the middle of one of my hardest days, a co-worker stopped me in the hall to say "I believe you're doing the right thing." She has no idea how much those simple words have carried me since.  I believe I'm doing the right thing too, but it was so good, at that low point, to hear some affirmation.

For 2010, I'm chosing a word that results in less bruises. More on that tomorrow.

p.s. If you have a leader who's working hard to do the right thing, PLEASE stop them in the hall to tell them you're noticing. Leaders (especially middle managers) are usually the most under-appreciated, over-stressed in an organization. I speak from personal experience.

Chipping away at it

At first, I hesitated to share this picture from my travels last week, even though it's one of my favourite moments of the trip. Why did I hesitate? Because you can see just how much weight I've gained in the past six months, and... well... ugh. I hate that I've gained weight, but even more, I hate that it matters. Double ugh.

But here it is, none-the-less, because I like it, and it's beautiful, and I'm trying to move past those issues. Really - I am. Look closer at the picture - past the size of my imperfect body, up to my face, and you'll see a tiny smirk on my face. I was so happy in that moment - so full of what gives me pleasure in life.

This post is only partly about the weight thing. More than that, it's about chipping away at things. I was in the magical studio of Regina Coupar and she was teaching my friend and me how to chip away at glass and stone to make tiny sparkly tiles for mosaic art. None of them were symmetrical or perfect, but each piece was just right. Blended together, these imperfect, assymetrical pieces make the most beautiful works of art.

It's what I'm doing in my life too - chipping away at it. Trying to find the beauty at the centre of what looks like rough and ugly rocks. Trying to make the broken pieces into a work of art. Trying to trust the pain of the hammer and anvil. Trying to be brave enough to reveal what I've kept hidden under layers of protective covering.

I'm chipping away at what it means to be an artist too. Breaking off pieces of fear and hesitation. Revealing the shiny bits underneath. Taking chances and making mistakes. Trying new things. Risking failure. Learning from others... but in the end, trusting my own way of seeing and being.

This year has been full of so much "hammer and anvil" work. Chipping away at growth, change, pain, renewal, and fear. 

I am artist and I am art, all wrapped into one imperfect package. I strive to create beauty and trust my own beauty to shine.

This is the beginning

Today marks another beginning. I have a new employee starting today. It's the first of the three we hired recently - the other two will start in the new year.

It's a new beginning because it marks a new chapter in my journey as an evolving leader. I've been a positional leader for a dozen years or so, but each role I take on pushes me to a new level. (I purposefully say "positional leader" because I believe there are all kinds of ways of being a leader without every having the position.)

Expanding my team this year and adding a big new strategic plan is going to stretch me (and my team) in ways I haven't been stretched before. In this year of trying to be more fearless, this may very well be the biggest step I'll take.

Today I am being called to:

• trust my instinct more.
• be bold and push forward into spaces I've never been before.
• thicken my skin and brave the resistance that always comes when we push into something new.
• challenge those people who don't want to give their energy to the team's direction and purpose
• be authentic, vulnerable, and humble, even at the risk of embarrassing myself
• trust my own wisdom and my ability to be the "voice of authority"
• be true to myself and what I believe I am being called to do
• be brave enough to admit failure and strong enough to pick myself up and try again

Six months ago, I put a big proposal forward to the board. It was approved, though not without some resistance on the part of both board and staff. Six months ago, I started slipping into a deep pit of restlessness, fear, frustration, and yes... I believe depression. I wrestled with demons that said I wasn't good enough, smart enough, or capable enough. I battled obstacles I wasn't prepared for, with two staff resigning, challenges with a consulting company, conflict on my team, and all measure of personal angst and unease.

This week, the board meets again (for semi-annual meetings). I'm still a little fearful and still not sure I can do what I know I need to do, but something in me has shifted. I'm ready to move into this new challenge. I'm ready to trust that I am not doing this alone - that God has equipped me with the skills I need to succeed, or the courage I need to fail.

Let it begin.

One step closer

It's official... I'm launching my new site on Thursday! (Keeping my fingers crossed that there are no snags, now that I've said it out loud.)

I am so excited! (And a little bit nervous.) This feels like the coming together of so many dreams, so much of my own giftedness, and so many of the ideas, values, and bits of wisdom I've picked up over the years.

It's been an incredible couple of weeks preparing for this. My creative juices have been working overtime in my lovely little studio. (Sometimes even late at night when I've woken up with a great idea.) I've spent every morning here and it's been so much fun, that I haven't minded sacrificing my normal sleeping-in routine of holidays. I've connected with some amazing people, I've gotten several beautiful pieces of art to surround me with inspiration, and I have felt so loved and encouraged every step of the way. It's gone so well, in fact, that those little internal gremlins that like to cast shadows on hope have been warning me that I should be prepared for "the other shoe to fall". Perhaps failure really IS lurking just around the corner, but for now I'm going to believe that only success lies ahead for this little labour of love.

In celebration of the big launch, I've decided to throw a party, despite the fact that my house is in a sad state of disrepair and messiness. I'm just going to believe that anyone who believes in my little dream enough to come celebrate with me won't be looking into the corners for dust mites or cobwebs (or broken toys, or last week's laundry, or the camping equipment that hasn't been put away yet, or... the list goes on and on).

If you happen to live close enough to my house (in Winnipeg, Manitoba) and want to come to the party, I'd be delighted to have you here. Leave a comment with your contact info and I'll send you an invitation. (Sorry guys, this one's for women only.)

One last thing... I just feel like I should say a great big THANK YOU to you my faithful blog readers. You have all been such a source of encouragement and support to me that you've helped me believe that I really can do this.

Who knew - when I started this fearless journey at the beginning of the year - that I would end up here? Be careful what you wish for!

What do you do with criticism when it comes too late?

He sat in my office, and though it was a few months too late to give me feedback and I certainly wasn’t asking for any now that all was said and done and the plan was well in motion, he said “I think you’re making a mistake. I think you should be doing X and Y instead of A and B.”

I sat there dumbfounded for a minute, and then, more calmly than I felt, I said “I’m sorry, I am no longer soliciting feedback on this issue. I asked for your feedback a few months ago, and since you didn’t offer it then, you have no right to offer it now. I don’t believe I’m making a mistake and I’m committed to the decisions I’ve made.”

A few hours later, after he’d left and my gut reaction had settled from seething to just slightly frustrated, it struck me how significant this conversation was. Not that it was unusual to get unsolicited feedback too late from my staff or co-workers – that happens all the time. What WAS unusual though was the fact that, even though it was a frustrating conversation, it had not ONCE caused me to doubt the wisdom of my decision.

I’ve been taking some fairly bold steps in my day-job lately, and though there are lots of supporters for the path I’m forging, there have been a lot of naysayers too. For whatever reason (uncertainty, fear, jealousy, genuine concern – you name it) boldness always brings out the critics. Constructive criticism during the development phase can be a very good thing (it helped make my idea a whole lot better, as a matter of fact), but the "after-the-fact" critiques just feel like rain on someone's parade.

This realization that I’m getting better at handling it and not letting it send me into a spiral of self-doubt and insecurity was a refreshing and welcome shift. For too long, I’ve let fear of criticism, fear of failure, fear of resistance, and fear of embarrassing myself keep me from boldness. I’ve worked a little too hard at making sure all my decisions were met with acceptance rather than resistance. Let’s face it – I just wanna be liked.

But that’s starting to shift and I’m so grateful. The person who sat in my office and critiqued my plan doesn’t have to like me or my plan. I still think it’s the right plan. The person who made negative comments about the video I executive-produced (after it was completed and too late to make any changes) doesn’t have to like it. I still think it’s good.

What do you do with criticism or rejection – especially the stuff that comes too late? Are you able to rise above and keep believing in yourself? Are you able to continue to face the world with boldness and self confidence?

Today, when you begin to let the critics (either external or internal) eat away at your confidence, stand up and say out loud (even if you just do it alone in your bathroom) “I have not given you permission to dump all over my good idea. I believe that it is good and I am committed to seeing it through.”

A kinder, gentler wrecking

Don’t you love it when the right book shows up just when you need it? After ordering a book I’d suggested, Vicki sent me a suggestion for another book, and it couldn’t have shown up at a better time. I think the writer crawled into my brain, studied my random thoughts for awhile, and, like a doctor, prescribed just the right medication for what’s ailing me.

I’ve underlined so many things already, and I’m only on page 57. This one, for example, could have been pulled almost verbatim from my recent blog posts: “Some have felt eager and engaged by their work for years and then walked into their office one fine morning to find their enthusiasm gone, their energies spent, their imaginations engaged in secret ways, elsewhere.” Hmmm… secret ways? Yup, I got ‘em.

On the bus yesterday, I underlined this quote: “For most of us, an inner parental voice continually keeps the world at bay. It says, ‘Life is precarious; you young cannot know how precarious. Don’t add to the sum total of difficulty that awaits you: Stay off the moors; Stay off the ocean, stay away from the edge, don’t follow the intensity of your more passionate dreams, find safe work, and adventure not into your own nature lest it lead you directly into nature itself. Adventure only on the weekends of life and not in the working week.’”

I nearly choked on that quote. It stirred so many things for me, a lot of them related to the reason I chose “fearlessness” as my word for the year. How many times have I chosen what’s safe? How many times have I failed to “adventure into my own nature”?

The other thing it stirred in me was the concern that I have become that parental voice for my children. More than anything, I want them to be authentic, bold, and passionately in search of their own calling and nature. But sometimes, let's face it, a mother’s first concern is that they be safe. How do we balance those desires for our children without messing them up in the process?

When I went grocery shopping last night, I took my “Wreck this Journal” along, thinking I’d do something silly with it. Instead though, with these book-induced thoughts spinning through my mind, I took a detour to my son’s grave and did some wrecking of a kinder, gentler variety.

If you can't see the video yet, it might not be fully loaded. I'm posting before it's ready - don't have time to wait.

Stop dabbling. Start doing.

"I didn't know you were a singer-songwriter," I said to my dinner companion after he told me he'd be meeting Vance Gilbert (whom I'd just mentioned) at the upcoming Folk Festival singer-songwriter retreat.

"Welllll..." he hesitated, "I dabble in it."

"Why is it that almost all artists I know don't admit to being artists - they 'just dabble in it'?"

He chuckled. "Okay... so let's try this again... I AM a singer-songwriter."

"Much better," I said.

And then, after telling him about my idea for a web space where "dabblers" can "own their wisdom and share it graciously", I said, "I once taught a creativity workshop, and overwhelmingly, the participants were all yearning for the same thing - permission to create and to call themselves artists."

"Creativity workshop?" he said, his ears perking up. "Tell me more."

And then, because we were both trying to be more bold and own our giftedness, I told him more, and by the end, he'd invited me to teach a day long workshop for his staff. And I went home with that dreamy look on my face.

*******

A few years ago, I wrote this as my personal mission statement:

My mission is to inspire excellence in people, facilitate growth and the discovery of giftedness, and to serve as a catalyst for positive change.

*******

Stay tuned. The bud is beginning to unfold in delightful ways.

Ten things I've learned while trying to be more fearless

Prompted by a comment from Joyce, I thought it was high time I wrote another fearless post. If you're just catching up, you can find the video introduction to my "year of living more fearlessly" here, and follow-up posts here, here, here, here, here, and here.)

Here are the ten things I've learned (or keep re-learning)...

1. It’s not doing any good, this “hiding in the bulrushes” thing you try to do sometimes. You’re not doing anybody any favours by not putting your stuff out there. When you put your stuff out there, you might just win $200 in a photo contest. Or get something published.

2. Sometimes, when you try your best fearless growl, and you manage to send out a notice to several creative friends about a cool group you want to start, and then you’re met with stone cold silence by more than half of them, it probably doesn’t mean they don’t like you or think your idea is stupid. It might just mean they don’t open their emails very often. Try again. Maybe pick up the phone next time.

3. Most of the time, other people are just as fearful as you. There might be really good ideas they’re withholding because they’re afraid you’re smarter than them and already thought of those ideas.

4. When you’re on a film shoot with a bunch of big wig film producer and social marketing types (or somewhere else that’s outside of your element), and something just doesn’t sit right with you, it’s just not really a good idea to keep your mouth shut just because you assume they know more than you do. Somebody might roll their eyes just slightly, but when they re-do the shot, there’s a good chance you’ll all agree that it came out better in the end. Trust your gut.

5. About that photo shoot – you’re smarter than you think you are. If you’ve been to almost 20 countries, there’s a good chance you’ll know a little more about some of the clothes worn in those countries than the wardrobe person does. Own your wisdom and then share it graciously.

6. If you finally get off your butt and take a watercolour course after years of staring longingly at the shelves in an art supply store, you might just paint something that people will beg you to make prints of. Quit acting like it was an accident.

7. Sometimes, the answer is “wait”. Being fearless doesn’t mean you should rush headlong into something, or push people around in an attempt to get to your goal. Remember to be gentle on yourself and those you care about (or even those you barely know).

8. Yoga is amazing. You might even find yourself in tears after your first class because it feels so right. Why have you taken so long to try it? Maybe it’s time to give up this belief that you’re too uncoordinated for a class that involves body movement. Perhaps it’s even time to forgive yourself for that unfortunate jazz dance class experience and move on. (It was 20 years ago - get over it!)

9. Sometimes, the best way to succeed is to believe you have something worth sharing and then give it away freely and without reservation. Amazing things can happen when you let go of those things you’re too nervous to expose to the world, or you use your creativity to help someone else succeed.

10. It can really, really hurt when your best attempt at fearlessness is met with rejection or (perhaps worse) indifference. Let yourself wallow for a few minutes, learn from it, go do something else you know you're really good at for awhile, and then move on.

Note: the photo is of my niece, who's more fearless than most people I know.

Growing into leadership (chapter 6 of the "fearless" series)

(This is part of my "fearless" journey. Earlier posts can be found here, here, here, here, and here.)

I’ve been thinking a lot about leadership lately. I had a great (though way too short) conversation with my friend Susan yesterday about what it takes to be an authentic leader. Susan was my boss several years ago and has been my friend ever since. (She told me that the day I walked in for the interview, she knew almost instantly that we would be kindred spirits and that she HAD to hire me.) Now we’re both bosses (in different organizations) and struggling with many of the same issues.

Susan and I have had similar experiences recently where we discovered that sometimes, to be good leaders, we have to take a big risk and allow ourselves to be vulnerable and exposed. Vulnerability is not normally associated with strong leadership. In fact, when we become leaders, we assume that our role is and will always be to be the strong one in the group. After all, a leader shouldn’t let weakness show, should they?

But sometimes, our greatest break-through comes the moment we admit to our team “I don’t have this all figured out” and then ask “can you help me?” After a long and often difficult road with my team in the last few years, that’s what eventually worked for me back in January. I had to be willing to say “look – this isn’t working and I feel like I have failed because I've tried everything and I no longer have any idea how to make it work” before they softened their stances and finally contributed meaningful ideas to an otherwise rather stagnant circle. It was a risk (because admitting my weakness opened the door for them to point out even more weaknesses), but it was worth it in the end.

It’s kind of counter-intuitive, but there’s wisdom to it, and I have to keep learning and re-learning it. Admitting weakness can be the most effective way to open the door to strength. (Rather biblical, isn’t it?)

The year of living fearlessly - Chapter 5

I used to visit art supply stores and stand and gaze longingly at the rows and rows of paint tubes and brushes. I've done that for years. I wanted to paint so badly, but it was completely overwhelming for me. I had no idea what brushes to start with (what if I used the wrong one?) or which kind of paint did what (what's the difference between watercolour and acrylic?), and besides, I could barely draw a stick figure, so what made me think I could paint?

Friends would take up painting, and I'd be so jealous, but I never signed up for a course. "I'll probably fail," I told myself. "I'm not very artistic."

That was before my year of living fearlessly. This year, I knew I couldn't let those layers of fear and doubt stand in the way of something I've wanted to do since I was a child. This year, I would paint, even if I accomplished nothing more than a stick figure and a tree that looked like a 6 year old's fingerpainting. This year, I wasn't letting failure stand in my way.

I signed up for a class and started buying supplies. But every time I took my supply list into an art supply store, I got that overwhelming, choking feeling again. What was a #1 brush? Was I supposed to buy the paint in tubes or in little cakes like the kindergarten paints? I bought a few supplies, but put off most of it until the night before the class.

Then the worst happened - the night before the class turned out to be the night OF the class. I'd looked at the dates wrong. I had to rush to the only store within easy driving distance, grab whatever I could find, and show up at class 15 minutes late with only half of my supplies. My heart was in my throat. This was NOT the way to start something this scary!

The first 15 minutes of the class were horrible. Others had already started and I didn't get the instructions right. Plus I had to borrow a few things from my seat mate. If Marcel hadn't dropped me off and left me without a car, I might have packed up and gone home.

But then, when water mixed with paint and paint started hitting paper, a transformation began to unfold. The paper, the paint, the paint brushes - they all took hold of me, lifted me out of myself, and the stress began to seep out of my body drop by drop. How incredibly good the paint brush felt in my hand! How incredibly right! I almost started crying right there in that high school art room. This was what I had been waiting for all these years!



Even though we only painted in monochrome that night, and the result was hardly worth bragging about, I knew that I had fallen in love. For too many years this passion had been waiting for fear to loosen its grip so that it could be born - now it was time to let it see the light of day.

Five classes later (too quickly it passed), we were getting ready for the final class. "Bring in a picture to the second last class," she'd said. "Something that is special to you. You're going to paint your first masterpiece during the final class." I selected a few that I thought I was capable of (some easy landscapes and silhouettes), and threw in the one I really wanted to paint but doubted that I could - one of my favourite photos from Ethiopia. "These are easy," she said, flipping through the top of the pile, "you can paint these." Then she looked at the last one - the special one. "You want to paint that?" she said, a little incredulously. I felt the doubt rise again. Maybe she didn't like it. Maybe she thought I couldn't do it. Oh what was I thinking - of COURSE I can't do it! I nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, I think you could probably do that if you tried hard enough." Really? "You probably won't finish it in one day, and you'll have to do the sketching before the class so you use the time in class well."

Gulp. Was I really going to try? What if I failed? Would I want to come back for another class next session, or would I give up? Maybe I should just do the silhouette of the acacia tree from my Kenya pictures. It was so much easier.

But "easy" wasn't what I'd signed up for. I decided to try regardless of how it scared me. I did the preparation work and showed up at class early this time. I was determined. This was not going to be the end of painting for me. I was not going to let fear hold me back. I was determined, but nervous, and almost positive I would fail.

And then, the minute I touched paintbrush to paper, I entered that zen-like state and got lost in the painting all over again. The hours drifted away while I let the paint carry me. Bit by bit, I watched the art unfold. First grey sky, then the landscape. That was the easy part. Would I be able to paint convincing people? The first one turned out not bad. The second was even better. By the third one, I began to believe that I could actually DO this!

I didn't finish that night, but the next night, while Marcel was away and the girls got to watch a little extra TV, I finished the last piece - the baskets. When I was done, I stepped back and... well, it was GOOD! I had actually painted something I could be proud of!


I have been on cloud nine ever since. Who knew I could paint? Certainly not me!

(If you want to see my progress throughout the classes, you can see all of my attempts in a slideshow here.)

The year of living fearlessly - chapter 3

Just so you don't think I've mastered this fearlessness thing, I'm also going to try to post about the times when I don't feel fearless at all. Like today. There's some fallout or follow-through from the staff retreat over the weekend. Some people saw it as an invitation to open up old wounds to try to find healing for them. I'm not all that good at dealing with old wounds. Mostly I want to stick a bandaid over them and forget about them. But other people feel differently, and so I have to try to honour them.

Today I have a meeting that I'm not looking forward to. I suspect that some of it may be about the places where I've fallen short as a leader and probably even places where I've been the one to do the hurting. I don't want to hear about it. I just want to pretend everything is alright and move on into the future.

I've stolen a quote I found on Olivia's blog and printed it, along with her lovely dragon picture to hang on the wall beside my computer. I want to believe that the person who wants to confront me, a person whom I've sometimes let myself be intimidated by, is just a vulnerable soul like me.

"Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love."--Rainer Maria Rilke

And now I'm going to go for a walk and practice my apologies, my humility, and my boldness... "I'm sorry I hurt you." "I would like to ask you to address this directly next time, instead of letting it fester." "Please remember that we are all human and horribly fallible."
Update: The meeting is over. I am completely drained from the hard work of old wounds, fresh perspectives, other versions of truth, moving past the hurt, and living at peace with people whose world view is significantly different from one's own. Most of the hurts had not been inflicted by me, but as leader, I am at least somewhat implicated.
This "leading with integrity and boldness" thing? It's hard, HARD work.

The year of living fearlessly - Chapter 2

Note: My word for the year is "fearless". Throughout the year, I'm going to write periodic posts about my attempts to live a little more fearlessly. The introductory post and video can be seen here.
I fingered the silk patchwork jacket. My heart did a little pitter-patter in my chest. I wanted it. Badly. I’d often pictured myself wearing just such a garment. Colourful, eclectic, bohemian, artistic, bold, sassy – it said so many things about the wearer that I wanted to be able to say about myself.

I took a deep breath and checked the price. It was on sale. Less than half price. Almost what I could justify spending. Almost. But not quite. Still a little too much for our cash-strapped budget. Besides, did I really deserve something that extravagant? I left it on the rack and wandered the rest of the store, looking for something a little more affordable.

My feet kept taking me back to the clothing rack, however. Finally, after trying on rings, fingering scarves, and draping inexpensive bags over my shoulder, I took the jacket off the hanger. I had to at least try it on.

When I gazed at myself in the mirror, I knew I couldn’t leave the store without owning this jacket. In a few hours, I would fly home, and this would be my only chance. I needed to take it home. It spoke to me. It made me feel at least a little like the fearless and artistic woman I dreamed of being. “Don’t bother putting it in the bag,” I said to the cashier, “I’ll wear it. I have an important meeting to go to and I need a little boost.” And then I nearly skipped out of the store.

A few days later, packing for another trip – this time a little closer to home – I put the colourful jacket into my suitcase. It was a little dressy for the staff retreat I’d be attending, but I didn’t care. I needed the boost of colour and boldness.

I didn’t wear it for the first two days. Neither of those days called for bold, bohemian, or sassy. Neither of those days challenged my perception of myself quite as much as the third day – the day when everyone else would go home and leave me alone to lead my team through some difficult and possibly painful discussions. It was the day that would surely put my desire for fearlessness to the test.

In the morning, I went for breakfast in my new jacket. “That’s quite the jacket. Looks a little like Joseph,” said one of my staff members. “Yup,” I said, “it’s my coat of many colours.” “You remember what happened to Joseph, don’t you?” he chuckled. “Yes, he grew to be a bold and powerful leader,” I said, straightening my shoulders a little. “Yeah, but long before that, he got thrown in a pit. Let’s just say he had some road bumps along the way.”

Road bumps. Yes, that seemed appropriate. This was the day for road bumps. Possibly even the day that I’d get thrown in the pit.

Later that morning, as we prepared for the hard work of the day ahead, I glanced around the room. The tension was tangible – you could read it in the way people sat. None of us really wanted to be there. None of us trusted the other people in the room enough to believe that this day could have positive results. Though nobody was openly hostile, after years of treating each other with some measure of distrust and mild disdain, mixed in with a little unhealthy passive aggressiveness, we weren’t bringing our best efforts to the table anymore. To call us a “team” was generous – we were more like a dysfunctional “group” working on the same things but not really pulling together. I couldn’t help but wonder how much of that I had responsibility for, as their leader. There were definitely other factors – like remote staff spread across the country, unique and sometimes challenging personalities, gender biases, age biases, etc. – but in the wee hours of the morning, when I carried the weight of self-doubt, I wondered what I could have done differently these five years to turn this around.

When the facilitator passed the figurative baton to me, I swallowed a gulp of air, and wrapped the jacket a little tighter around my chest. “I’m not sure where to start,” I said, “but I’ve been doing a little thinking, and I need to tell you about that. I’ve been thinking we have a bunch of great people on the team, but I’ve also been thinking we’re really suffering, and we’re not doing nearly enough to support each other. We’re sabotaging each other, we’re not trusting each other, and we’re not taking risks together. We have to do something about it.”

For the next half hour, I took a bold and vulnerable step and laid my cards on the table. I told them about my personal doubt about being an effective leader. I told them of the many times somebody had come to me to tell me of the hurt they were suffering because of another member of the team. I told them of the times we’d fallen far short of our potential because we weren’t working together. I told them if we didn’t change, we would cease to be relevant.

When I ended, the room was silent. I looked around at the faces to see what they would feed back to me. Would there be hostility? Hurt? Withdrawal? I had no idea what to anticipate.

After a few brief comments, the facilitator encouraged us to take a coffee break. I longed to run back to the shelter of my room. Instead I sipped tea and tried to make small talk while avoiding people’s eyes.

When we returned to the meeting room, there was almost an audible collective sigh as people settled into their chairs a little more comfortably than before. One by one, they began to open up. “I’m glad you said the things you did. It’s hard to hear, but we need to hear it to move on.” “I’d like to acknowledge that I have been hurt and I know that I have hurt others, but I want to try harder.” “I wish we could work on a greater level of trust and respect.” “I could do better work if I knew my team-mates were behind me.”

Throughout the day, there continued to be a gradual softening in people’s posture and their words. There were gentle but difficult truths offered up. There were risks taken. There was respect offered. There was accountability and positive challenge. All of these things had been lacking in our meetings up until that point. So many times we’d sat with the elephant in the room, all of us afraid to speak of it.

At the end of the day, I returned to my room weary but full. Full of the goodness I’d seen in people I’d stopped caring for and stopped trusting. Full of the respect I’d been given when I put myself out there in a raw and honest way. Full of the new light I’d begun to see in people’s eyes.

As I removed my colourful jacket, I wondered, “is this how Joseph felt when he was rescued from the pit and began a journey that would see him rise to more powerful leadership than he could have imagined?”