Lies We Tell, Truth We Feel

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“The lies are always loud.  The truth is always quiet—I promise you,” Via the universe has your back. We are looking for a new home and it has been a nightmare.  First world problem, I know.  But this year has been challenging and we were hoping for something positive to come.  As we’ve faced rejection after rejection for a new home, I felt a near uncontrollable anger.  I also feel helpless because we aren’t finding what we want and when we get our hopes up, we lose the prospect.  It has started to feel like the universe is telling us we aren’t worth a new home, that our dreams aren’t going to be realized.  I have taken it personally because this is such a personal decision—it’s our future.

Just as we got the news that we lost our fourth house, I had two really difficult encounters at work.  One was with an employee that has been struggling for a while.  There was a minor altercation while I was gone the other day and as I discussed the event with her, we brought up some past events that had occurred between us and she essentially told me that I was a terrible manager.  I tried to not take it too much to heart because of the history, but it was still challenging.  Later in the afternoon, my boss held a surprise meeting with myself and a colleague essentially insinuating that I wasn’t managing another team well because my team asks questions to my colleague, the department educator—so my leadership skills were brought into question regarding a brand new department for me.  I was blindsided, especially with the second meeting, because I had asked the coworker involved if she knew what was going on and she said no, only to find out that she was the one raising the issues that were brought up. 

The lies came fast and hard—telling myself that I was incapable and that I was doing a terrible job and I had myself fired.  While I know that leap was too much, they were not unfounded.  I don’t understand why my boss allows colleagues to talk about each other rather than to each other.  The entire conversation could have happened with each other had my coworker told me she had concerns.  Instead she went to my boss and made it seem like there were so many problems to resolve.  The more I thought about it, the angrier I became.  I found myself the recipient of too much nonsense today and I didn’t know how to shake it off. 

What I believed in that moment was a lie.  I am more than capable and it is not my fault if you choose to not bring forward an issue nor can I be responsible for fixing it if I am not aware it exists.  Your job is an educator—if my staff have issues, then they need to be educated.  That is more of a reflection of your skills than mine.  My reaction was to fall into my old self and start asking what I could do differently.  Part of it was to learn, don’t get me wrong, I’m learning the role so as much help as I can get is appreciated.  But I shouldn’t have immediately assumed that everything I was doing was wrong.  There is mutual accountability because if you want a certain result, then you need to share that with me. I’m not a mind reader.

At the same time I realized that I no longer want to be in the business of trying to figure out what people want whether it was negotiating a price for a house or for what I’m supposed to be doing in my role.  I’m smart, I know how to lead.  And just because I lead differently, that doesn’t make it wrong.  My role as a leader is to also be clear on what my needs are and what my expectations are.  That is my only responsibility in life: to be clear on my desires and what I am able to bring to the table.  The decision is mine, and I am able to determine where I go from here.  The message may not be received well, but I’m done being complicit in an organization that chastises and ostracizes people for not obeying their every whim or not being able to fulfill their asinine demands or read their minds. 

So that is the truth—and it’s quiet but it is true: I am more powerful than I’ve allowed myself to be.  I’m beyond being dictated to.  I’m not the weak person I’ve allowed myself to portray.  I know the truth is that I need to go my own way.  I’m different than what they expect and they are trying to manage that.  That doesn’t make me wrong.  It means I need a better fit.  I’m not worthless: I’m inherently worthy and capable.  And I will get where I’m meant to be—the right house and the right career.  

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