Your Value is Yours to Define
In this podcast, Arminda shares a couple of stories that will resonate with listeners; one is an example of when she not only realized her boundaries for what she would accept from others, she set them definitively by walking away from a job after an abusive event.
How you share your stories matters.
Arminda Lindsay is a force. She's a force of integrity, love, and inner strength. That's because she knows who she is, what drives her, and that she does Arminda better than anyone else could.
She wasn't always this way. Her life isn't all roses and sunshine; it took her a long time to come to the point of trusting herself and her instincts enough to bring her whole self to every environment. This is a large part of what makes her such a good coach.
In this podcast, Arminda shares a couple of stories that will resonate with listeners; one is an example of when she not only realized her boundaries for what she would accept from others, she set them definitively by walking away from a job after an abusive event.
When we share stories like this, they're not only reminders, or evidence that we are resilient; these stories help others to know they're not alone, and that they can make decisions that are right for them. We learn from these stories that we CAN and MUST choose ourselves and our well-being, and that we define our own value. If we don't define our value for ourselves, we leave that critical aspect of our lives to those around us. And very few people will value us any more than we value ourselves.
The first step must be define our core values, and to be introspective enough to recognize what drives us. As Arminda said in the podcast, if we want to find satisfaction in life, we must stick to our integrity, our knowledge of our own needs. Because if that's out of alignment, nothing feels right, and we lose our sense of self.
Bonus: In the podcast, Arminda shared something about herself that I didn't know, though now that I do, I'm not at all surprised. Here's a little something to make you smile:
Arminda loves coaching extraordinary women to see the beauty of who they truly are by accessing the power they possess when they step into ownership of their full expression. In addition to working with women, she has also worked with C-Suite executives, leadership teams, business owners, and entrepreneurs for over a decade, and is a trusted advisor who coaches leaders to elevate their strategic thinking and performance to expand their vision and its impact on their organizations and leadership teams.
When Choose Your Own Adventure books hit the scene my enthusiasm could not be sated. I devoured these books, always reading them from start to stop as many times as I could choose a different direction to guide the fate of the main character through one seemingly critical decision after another, never tiring of the delightful discovery of how one choice could lead to such different consequences and possible outcomes. When I came to the conclusion of a series of choices, I happily turned back to page one and started over again, always choosing differently than my previous read through the same plot.
I’ve come to understand that my life is no different than the storybooks I’ve always loved to read. And up until a few years ago, I was so invested in believing my own story to be true that I was no more writing my story as much as I was allowing it to be written by everything and everyone around me. I was a character in my own story, but one who existed at the mercy of the plot unfolding around me.
Your "What" Defines Your "Why", and Your "How" Follows
I walked away from the workshop with that Rock Star Feeling (RSF). It's that feeling when you walk away from an encounter, project, or situation knowing you nailed it. I call it RSF because I've experienced it as a musician; walking away from a performance with that euphoric high feeling, and knowing you will do almost anything to feel that way again... soon.
It was a valuable couple of hours for me, and not because I was paid for them. I walked away from the workshop with that Rock Star Feeling (RSF). It's that feeling when you walk away from an encounter, project, or situation knowing you nailed it. I call it RSF because I've experienced it as a musician; walking away from a performance with that euphoric high feeling, and knowing you will do almost anything to feel that way again... soon. It's that sense that you're really good at something; you've contributed, and that you're providing value to the people around you.
1.) Storytelling to Improve Sales
I had completed a two-hour workshop focused on the topic of storytelling to improve sales, as part of a two-day retreat for a regional group of sales leaders, when I walked away with that feeling. When the workshop ended, almost everyone in the room took a moment to ask me a question, share a story, or hug me before I walked out the door.
As a group, we created space for everyone in that room to feel safe, comfortable, and curious. We shared stories that connected us, and we discussed what makes a specific personal story the right story to share, when, and how to share it. We talked about reading our audience, and we came to the conclusion that in sales, we have to be in it for the long haul if we want to sustain our business and the relationships we create. It was clear that sharing a personal story is one great strategy to draw out the stories of others. We also talked about the fact that business is about people, and that when someone buys from us, they're not just buying a product; they're creating a relationship with us.
It took me a few hours to decompress and process everything that happened in those two hours, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I had discovered - or uncovered - something about myself that I had been searching for.
2.) No Longer Virtual
That was two weeks before I hosted the second annual No Longer Virtual conference, or #NLVDenver. Not quite a rock star feeling, as I decompressed in the days following #NLV, I found myself a little conflicted. I knew it was a success, and by the accounts of almost every participant, people got far more out of attending than they could have imagined. But I couldn't put my finger on what, exactly, was giving me this feeling of dissatisfaction. That is - until I was sharing this vulnerability with my dear friend Aaron Skogen, and he asked me this question:
How did you plan to define success with #NLV?
I was more than a little embarrassed. With all of my education, experience and my incredible support network, I hadn't considered this important question at all. Well, that's not exactly true. I had considered what I wanted out of #NLV, but I hadn't written it down anywhere. I hadn't told anyone, and I hadn't found ways to quantify success, other than breaking even financially in the first few years.
When I considered the question, I realized that success for NLV was simply creating an environment for people to connect authentically, and to learn and grow together. And it was certainly a success if I measured it that way.
A few years ago, I realized I'm a slow processor. It takes time for me to fully process an event, an incident, an intense conversation. By process, I mean to fully reflect on what it meant to me, the lessons I could learn from it, and how I'll apply whatever it was to future scenarios. And now, more than a year after the first #NLV, I'm finally feeling like I've fully processed the experience.
Good things come in threes, I'm told, and it was the third event that finally helped me put things together in my head.
3.) Women's Leadership Network, Helena, Membership Social
Our local Women's Leadership Network hosted a social event and invited women from all over the community to network, ride the carousel, drink champagne, and eat ice cream. The goal was to create buzz and recognition for our growing, thriving organization, and to encourage more women to join. It was a success in many ways, but the key for me was the environment we created as a board. We created space in our little community for women to be together in a casual, fun place, to share food and drinks, and to be comfortable being themselves.
For a while, I focused on my "why" as my ability to encourage people to step out of their comfort zones and take risks they wouldn't otherwise take. Now I know that ability is a component of something more dynamic. It took me figuring out my "what" to truly define my "why". Sounds backward, right? Does it matter how you get there, as long as you get there? I don't think so.
Here it is, my "what"... drum roll, please...
As I work to process this new idea, I can see that everything I've done successfully in my past has been part of this "why", from hosting guests in our home, to facilitating groups for the Montana University System, to creating a safe place in an office for people to share their frustrations and successes.
Where ever I sit, I am compelled to create an environment where people feel safe and confident to share their biggest dreams, fears, joys, and challenges. Whatever I am doing, I find my joy, my satisfaction, in creating space for people to take risks for personal and professional growth, and support and motivate them to take specific steps to achieve their goals.
And my "why" followed:
This isn't an overnight lightning bolt; it has taken years of self reflection to come to my "why", and many pivotal conversations with people who know me, and for whom I have so much respect, admiration, and gratitude. What's a little disconcerting is that one person has been telling me this for almost 20 years; I'm not sure I was ready to believe it, and I definitely didn't have a clue how to apply it to providing income for me and my family.
And now? Now I'm ready to put my "why" into my "what", so the "how" will present itself. (Thanks, Arminda Lindsay.)
I'm asking for your help in putting my "what" into action:
When you're planning a retreat or conference, and you want a session that's truly unique, engaging, and effective in creating space for your team to explore storytelling as a tool for communication and sales, call me. Let's explore how my "why" can help you fully realize your "how".
Even in Dreams, Stories Offer Opportunity for Self Reflection
Exposed? Vulnerable? That's good, because that's how we connect.
I had to go to the bathroom so badly. I might have a very embarrassing situation in the next few moments. As I moved through the restaurant to find the women's restroom, I could feel my face warming, blushing.
I couldn't find the bathroom and started walking much faster, a feeling of desperation washing over me. The building was huge, with twists and hallways and lots of tables and guests. Finally, there it was, the entrance was hidden in a dark corner. I walked through - none of the stalls had doors.
It was weird. People (men and women) just walking by these open stalls like there was nothing awkward about it. I went into a stall to find a big mess on the floor and around the toilet. It was filthy. I couldn't even think about going to the bathroom there. I tried to find another stall, looking for some semblance of privacy. I felt totally exposed. But no one seemed to notice; not one person looked at me or acknowledged the odd situation. I didn't know what to do.
And then I woke up, perspiring and shaking.
It took me all day to get my tremors to calm down.
It was the night before a gig. I would be performing on stage that evening; singing songs I knew well, with musicians I knew would competently back me up. And yet, clearly my subconscious mind was telling me I was nervous.
I’m a big believer that our dreams can help us identify issues that are buried in our subconscious minds. When we can interpret a recurring dream, we can start to address the concerns we have that aren’t as straightforward or obvious as we might hope.
I have this exposure dream or something similar to it, pretty consistently before gigs, presentations, and other events where I know I’ll be putting myself out there – working outside my comfort zone.
Sometimes the dream involves me looking for a shower, or taking a shower and realizing there are no curtains and people can see me. Sometimes I care and get embarrassed, trying to cover up. Once in a while in my dream, I decide it doesn't matter if people can see me naked in the shower, I feel proud and free and not at all embarrassed. That doesn't happen often.
My dreams have always been vivid and generally easy to translate and interpret. The two described above are the easiest to figure out. It's simply a matter of feeling naked, vulnerable, and exposed. The fact that I have these dreams before a gig or presentation isn't surprising; after all, singing & performing for an audience is like being naked in public - if you're doing it right.
Being authentic is easier for some people than it is for others. It's probably the most important aspect of public speaking and performance. Read any book on public speaking, including one of my favorites, Talk Like TED, and you'll read the same concept:
Be authentic because any audience can tell when you aren't, and they will simply dismiss you and your message.
There’s another important side of the discussion of dreams: The ones you have in your waking hours. You know - the dream of owning your own business, being your own boss, being a rock star, having a successful career, writing a book, and on and on. The question about those dreams is whether you have to monetize them to make them relevant, valid, and successful. I don’t think so.
It started with Craig’s list. My husband responded to someone looking for a musician to play with, just for kicks. Ryan came over one night while I was out with friends and when I arrived home, he was putting his guitar back into his car. I introduced myself and asked him about his music, about his family. That’s when he told me about his wife, Twila. She used to sing with a couple of gospel choirs. Instinct kicked in and I invited him to bring his wife and daughter for dinner the following week.
We had a lovely meal, and while our boys and their daughter watched anime movies in the other room; I pulled Twila into our music room and picked a song for us to try together. Neither of us had been singing for a while, for me it had been about 20 years since I had done anything more than sing to our children. It was magical. Our voices blended and wrapped around one another in an extraordinary resonance. We had chills up our spines, the hairs on our necks rose as we sang together. There were moments when our voices were so well balanced, so completely joined, it sounded like there was an organ behind us.
One music night turned into a music night each week, which turned into two music nights some weeks. More musicians were invited to join us, friends came by for dinner and to listen to us practice. Our house developed an incredible reputation for good food and great music. Ryan and Bob learned each other’s strengths and weaknesses and challenged each other to practice and improve their guitar playing. Twila and I were so inspired; we would begin a song and could feel our voices taking it to a different dimension. We experimented with songs that we had never heard performed with harmonies, magical is an understatement. We eventually realized that we had about a dozen songs down well enough to perform them and took the first step to creating a band – open mic night at a local coffee shop. We had such positive feedback, we needed a band name. The Perfect Jones was born.
I had no idea that performing – singing – was my dream.
I never dreamed I would be a professional musician. I never dreamed that people would pay to hear me sing. Now that it’s happening I realize it is a wonderful dream and one I am not willing to give up any time soon. When I talk about our band and performing, my grin shows all of my teeth.
Singing is my part-time job, and it doesn’t pay well.
But it’s my dream.
Do I have to monetize it to make it real or valid?
Does my dream have to get bigger; do I have to want more from it? No.
I just have to keep wanting it, despite my sleep-time dreams of vulnerability and exposure.
If your dreams are trying to tell you that you're stressed, anxious, and feeling exposed, listen to them.
Acknowledge the fear and find tools to work through it. When I wake up from one of these dreams, I take time to assess my fears in a clear, strategic way.
What am I really afraid of?
What's the worst thing that could happen?
How likely is it that the audience will be as critical of me as I am of myself?
What steps will you take to realize your dream, even if it scares you?
You Think You're A Good Manager?
His supervisor told him that unless he could turn around his team's attitude, he was likely to lose his supervisory role, and that did not bode well for his career aspirations.
Try a New Tactic: Stories to Improve Management Skills
Joe thought he was a pretty good manager. His team was productive and they were hitting deadlines. But then his supervisor pulled him aside to let him know his team had complained about him. He knew there was some tension there, but he didn't know it was serious enough to warrant this discussion. His supervisor told him that unless he could turn around his team's attitude, he was likely to lose his supervisory role, and that did not bode well for his career aspirations.
Instead of being defensive and angry, before he stepped into his meeting with the team, he decided to try something completely different, though it seemed silly when he read this technique in a book about applying Akido lessons to other parts of life.
Not only did his new technique work, he turned that situation completely around.
In this episode of Your Stories Don't Define You, you'll hear his story, and the lessons he learned from the experience. You'll learn the techniques he used not only to diffuse the confrontation, but to change his mindset about the others in the room.
Your employees don't always have to like you, but they do have to know you respect them and trust them to do their work. If you don't, that's an entirely different management issue.
Joe Kwon is the future author of My Cheesy Self-Help Book, which will reveal how finding the flow between our energy and the energy of those around us will help to cut through life's challenges.
He's also an attorney, Aikidoka and shameless consumer of self-help books. He's passionate about coaching and mentoring on career advancement, public speaking, and leadership principles.
You can learn more about his sparkling personality and entertaining communication style of coaching on his website, and be sure to connect with him on LinkedIn.
Exhausted and Frustrated: A Perfect Recipe for Professional Disaster
Marietta Gentles Crawford was exhausted and frustrated. She saw her colleagues sitting around in their shared office, one of them reading a newspaper, when she lost her composure.
Stories Shared to Practice Intentional Behavior
Marietta Gentles Crawford was exhausted and frustrated. She saw her colleagues sitting around in their shared office, one of them reading a newspaper, when she lost her composure.
In louder than necessary tones, she told her colleagues exactly how she felt about how much harder she was working; she lost her cool.
Lucky for her, she had a compassionate boss, and colleagues who were close to her, almost like family, which is why she didn't receive formal discipline. That's also why she was able to recover her relationships with them. But it took time, and she had to learn some hard lessons about pushing herself too hard, and using her words BEFORE hitting her emotional limit.
Marietta is not alone. Many of us have had some sort of breakdown at work, emotions flowing freely, usually against our better judgment. Sometimes I think it's okay to lose your cool; it helps people see you as human, with vulnerabilities they may share. And in some cases, it takes losing emotional control for certain people to realize how serious the issue is. We all know people who miss subtle, indirect cues.
But most of the time, losing that control makes you feel less than professional, and can do irreparable damage to your personal brand.
When you're feeling most frustrated, it's time to take a step back and identify the real issues impacting your days. It's also time to consider what you want out of your next conversation with the person or people you're frustrated with. What is your ultimate goal after confronting the situation?
Listen to this conversation with Marietta Gentles Crawford for some strategies she used after learning the hard lesson of needing to be intentional in your communication.
Marietta Gentles Crawford is the author of From Nine to Thrive, a Guide to Building Your Personal Brand and Elevating Your Career. She's also a personal brand strategist who inspires professionals to brand with purpose, and thrive with passion.
She’s been writing since being a quirky 12-year-old who read women’s magazines and played with words. She still loves words. Her writing appears in The Huffington Post, Thrive Global, and Lifehack, among other publications.
Marietta is a converted city girl who lives in New York City with her husband. If you want more inspiration and resources from Marietta, sign up for her mailing list at www.maribrandsforyou.com, connect with her on LinkedIn, or follow her on Twitter: @Maribrands4you.
You Don't Have to Like Them. You Have to Work with Them.
"You don't have to like the people you work with, but you have trust that they want to do a good job and that they want the same thing you do: Success at work."
Stories that Shape Your Work Experience
You probably know that the good and the bad of work relationships shape our professional experiences and our future interactions, but do you think about those bad experiences as opportunities to be a better employee and manager?
In this podcast, Christine Stevens shares three stories of work relationships that colored how she builds and maintains successful relationships at work, even with people she doesn't necessarily like. It was her father who said: "You don't have to like the people you work with, but you have trust that they want to do a good job and that they want the same thing you do: Success at work."
Listen to her stories, and consider your stories that feel similar. Are you learning from those experiences? Are you creating an environment of trust and value by modeling the behavior you want to see in the people around you?
Christine is a troubleshooter, relationship builder, and cat herder. She brings disparate and often adversarial groups to the table and gets them to work together – or finds a way for them to work toward the same goal, even if it isn’t together. Never one to underestimate the power of a smile and humor, she believes a fun workplace is a more productive workplace. Read more about Christine by visiting her on LinkedIn.
Hungry and Scared: A Story to Build Courage
I weighed under 100 pounds when I graduated from college. My mother came for graduation and stared at me. "Are you anorexic?!" No, mom, just broke.
Leaving home to go to college can be pretty traumatic, but if you're on a traditional path and move right into a dormitory, that trauma can be mellowed a lot. You don't necessarily have to cook every meal for yourself, and you're unlikely to have to start buying your own toilet paper. There are still rules in a dormitory, so you're still expected to behave as if others are watching you.
But leaving college, moving away from friends and family, and starting something completely out of your comfort zone can be a much bigger adjustment.
When I graduated and planned to move from Fort Collins, Colorado, to Washington D.C. for a paid internship, I couldn't have been more confident and excited for my next adventure. But subconsciously, I must have had my doubts. When I drove my mother to the airport after spending graduation weekend together, I melted down. The reality that my childhood was coming to an end, and that I didn't have a plan for the next time I would see anyone in my family hit me like a ton of bricks.
It wasn't until years later that I realized the value of this story in my past, the lessons I learned, and the opportunity I had to share my vulnerability with someone who could not only handle it, but who would also learn from the experience.
I weighed under 100 pounds when I graduated from college. My mother came for graduation and stared at me. "Are you anorexic?!"
Nope. I'm just broke.
She was heartbroken that I hadn't told her I was struggling. She couldn't believe I would rather go without food than ask her for help. Really, though, that wasn't it at all.
I simply didn't consider asking for help. As I've written before, I've always been independent. And after traveling through Australia and New Zealand, I was fiercely independent. It just never occurred to me to ask for help.
My mother and I have always been close; we've also always been like oil & water. I've never doubted her love for me. There has never been a doubt that she would be there for me no matter what, and that she would always have my back. That's why, when I graduated from college, I had such a hard time saying goodbye to her. We didn't have a plan for the next time we'd see each other.
She flew in from Sacramento to Fort Collins for graduation, had a great weekend full of fun celebrations, and then the weekend was over and I was driving her to the airport. We were chatting away on the ride to the tiny airport. I was about to head off to my next adventure; a coveted position as a paid intern in Washington DC at the US International Trade Commission. As I drove her in my little blue Chevette, I wasn't thinking at all about her leaving. I was yammering about packing up my apartment, working my shift at a restaurant on New Year's Eve, and then packing up my little car to head to Colorado Springs to see my dad and sister before moving across the country. It was a full plate and my mind was spinning.
I pulled up at the entrance to the airport and helped my mom get her luggage out of the car. We hugged, her eyes teared up and I gave her the warning expression "don't start, mom." I walked her just inside the automatic doors and we hugged again. Then I walked away, got into my car, and started to drive down the bumpy road back toward I25.
It was December and the road was a little slippery, which is why, when I had a moment of sheer panic and slammed on my brakes to make a u-turn, my 180 became a 360. Somehow I managed to turn the car back toward the airport without seeing clearly through my streaming tears.
I parked right in front, in the no parking zone, and ran inside the airport. My mother had gone through what was, back then, the metal detector and security, and was sitting in the tiny waiting area at the gate. I ran right through that metal detector, right past the security guard. My mother saw me coming, tears streaming down my face, and stood up to grab me.
We hugged fiercely, both of us crying in relief, love, and grief. Yes, grief. It was the end of an era for our relationship. Even though we had been living over 1,000 miles apart for 5 years, we always knew when we'd see each other again; we always had a plan. But now, I was on my way to "adulting", moving to the big city and a big job (that's how I saw it, anyway).
Looking back, I can see that we were grieving that loss, though we were both excited for the future. At the time, all I knew was that I was leaving the comfort of young adulthood and taking on a mighty adventure... alone.
I cry every time I think about that goodbye, partly because that memory remains so strong, that feeling of loss and fear. The other reason my eyes fill when I think of that event is because I can now imagine my mother's conflicting feelings of sadness and joy at that moment. Joy for my achievement of graduation and upcoming adventure, joy at the feeling that I still needed her and loved her, and sadness at the end of this era in our relationship. This was the goodbye for her that signaled real time between visits and hugs.
Thankfully, these days we make plans to see each other regularly, and our relationship has only grown and improved over the years. When I need her, she's there. She arrived on my due date with our first son, and stayed until a couple of days after he was born. She gave him his first bath and took his tiny footprints. Six months later, she came back to DC to help me pack for our move across the country to Montana. Her dedication to writing on each box every. single. thing. she packed in it made it possible for us to settle into our rented house fairly quickly. And when we bought our first house a year later, she sent us a gift certificate for the light fixture we desperately wanted to replace a really ugly one in our living room. (We were going to have to wait, being house-poor was a reality for a few years.)
I still have trouble asking for help, but I've definitely improved over the years.
Every time I'm about to jump into a new adventure, that memory pops into my head. Sometimes I call her to share what I'm excited and nervous about, so I can feel that same relief I felt when we hugged inside the airport. I'm grateful for that memory for a couple of reasons:
Even though my heart was broken and I was really scared, I continued down that path for my adventure and it all turned out just fine, and that gives me the courage to continue on whatever path is currently opening up before me.
When I look at my own children and their independence and adventures, I remember my mother's words that day: "You'll be fine. You are smart and resourceful. You have all the tools to succeed in whatever you choose. And I'm here, no matter what, when you need me."
I'm about to step into another adventure this week. I'm excited. I'm nervous. My P/E ratio is through the roof. And I have my mother's words in my head.
What do you need to hear, what do you need to think and to know, before you step off into your next adventure? That voice can be your own. You don't need someone else to tell you what you need to hear. Just do it. Take the step. Don't regret.