So last week I felt itchy with anticipation about things I knew were going to erupt workwise on a project that I had no control over, at least in terms of timing. Lo&behold, things did follow that prediction and I spent the majority of last week goggle-eyed and stunned as the alerts on my computer dinged and my nervous system reacted to the point that I was actually lifting off my chair, jaw tensing, every time one-two-twelve went off simultaneously (I have now turned off the alert-sounds). Yet this writing isn’t about venting on that subject (tho I could go on. and on.). It’s more about the places I go in my psyche to try and be a hero. But before I go there, I also need to put out into the ether my appreciation for the people who are helping to hold this project together with some semblance of sanity and acknowledge my deep-felt good feelings for the people I work with (&have worked with) on the regular in the rest of my life who very much get what it means to be a team, to listen, to acknowledge the humanity in the person and the work. Obviously, that should be a given and I have to say there was one bright spot last week in another project I was doing (jeez, what is wrong with my say-yes function?) where there was sanity and I could turn fully and give my attention when needed.

Anywho, that say-yes function. That’s what I came to talk about. A bit of an I’ll-be-a-hero/I’m-the-one-to-take-care-of-this/Leave-it-to-me pathology. I recognize it. It’s been a part of me ever since the kidlet in me responded to my parents’ divorce with a decisive I’ll-be-no-bother stance. I mean, at that point, this seemed the only option so they’d keep me around. As I grew up, all that I-can-handle-it energy transferred to work and love. For the latter: What do you need me to be? to take care of for you? I’m the one for the job. For the former: What do you need me to be? to take care of it for you? I’m the one for the job. Yes, I realize they’re both actually exactly the same. I’ve gotten good at it. Too good really, except that lately I’ve also gotten wise to a little something called respect. The kind I hold for myself and the model that other folx who are responsible for others should have.

I’m currently a work in progress for acknowledging both versions. What I see when it comes to others is a character I recognize from past career moments. It’s a gaslight model and one I first experienced during my SPIN days. The person who holds the power is standing in front of you. Behind them is a bubbling volcano. They are shrugging and saying, What, you can’t handle this? I thought you were more capable. Then they hand you a spoon and a sandwich, get into their private jet, and fly away. The volcano erupts. What happens next? Some people charter their own flying machines and get the hell out. Some are buried. The next bit varies: Maybe I use my spoon to dig myself out furiously, look around to figure out how I can solve the crisis. I may see some people playing a little tune with their spoons for distraction. I have no time for that. I eat the sandwich to keep my strength up and aim for some dry land not covered in hot, burning stuff, then use all my strength to do … whatever I need to. I consider this a success and want to congratulate myself until I realize there’s a part of me that also feels like a chump. Like maybe I didn’t need to go through all that. Perhaps there was another way. I look over at the spoon players who have now built a fire out of the lava rocks and are dancing around ignoring the mess. That looks like fun. I won’t be going there and for sure have some judgment around the whole dancing thing, such as, Really, people, can’t you see what needs doing here? Am I the only one? Erm, that’s what you’ve secretly thrived on. At that point, I’ve officially stepped into the land of martyr, bypassing the turnoff to self-respect. That would have been the place where I said what I needed and asked for help.

The territory of self-respect wasn’t visited in my SPIN days—of course it wasn’t—when I was convinced beyond a shadow that it was me who needed to keep up, put up, shut up, just do it. I did that quite well. I got things done for sure, but I also squashed a lot inside of me. The ghost of this past visited me a few weeks ago as I was listening to a podcast about Michael Jackson and an MTV exec was interviewed who had crossed the line with me physically backstage at some performance or other. I hadn’t thought about the incident at all until I heard his voice. Even during the height of #metoo as I acknowledged the psychological and physical criminality of what I’d seen and felt back in those days. But hearing this person speak, I suddenly was right back there and bolted upright thinking Wait, what did I do after that unwanted kiss&grope? Nothing. I did nothing but carry on and as has been discussed among so many of us so often, that is what we did. How we proceeded in a world that always told us What’s the big deal? This is how it is. How did you not know that? We did know that. I knew that, and in the process of knowing, redefined self-respect—and not in a healthy way.

So in this crossroads of my life, what does self-respect look like? There’s one really dramatic model that is more reactive and less self-respective where I set fire to the thing upsetting me, then like those classic movie moments, walk away as the thing burns. (My brain is working cinematic today.) What’s arresting about that image is that the person isn’t running away from the fiery mess, they’re not scared, they’re strolling, often with some smug satisfaction on their face. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t thought of that image this past week when I really just wanted to get up from my chair and walk out into the sunshine. But in reality, I want to see this thing through yet do it in some way that upholds my self-respect. Where I’m not just saying Sure, I can handle that, then breaking into stress tears. So I did find a way to use my voice and say what I needed. Mostly that worked although there are still plenty, plenty, plenty of issues given the human at the top is mostly out of earshot but still … I feel better in having said it. And some people have listened and offered help and solutions.

There are a few more days of it to come, today being one of them as I pick up my spoon and fashion some results from the hot lava explosion. The sandwich helps too.