It was less than 24 hours after my coaching session. The one where I realized that I had not been seeing myself as your peer, your equal.
I had been playing with thoughts over and over again, in my head.
Beginning with acknowledging that I felt that I wasn’t your equal. This is where all the tears came from. I had also been acknowledging that I was responsible for believing that and no one did anything to me in order for me to feel that way. More tears. And asking myself for forgiveness. “The past is over. It can touch me not.”
After acknowledging, there was a spaciousness that came that allowed me to ask myself some other questions. Questions I’ve learned from being a coach.
Who do I want to be in relationship to this new awareness? Who is the Mynde that sees herself as your equal? How does she act? What does she wear? What kinds of things does she think and say?
I played out some scenarios in my head. Not a lot of detail. But the big thing that kept popping up was that in most situations, the new Mynde was able to really see and know that any reaction another might be having to her assertion of power in her life, doesn’t make her wrong or bad. It was not about her. It was about them. That in that moment, the other probably felt powerless them self.
Since I had just come from there, powerlessness, I could remember how much it hurts. The tears I cried. The thoughts and feelings that came with it. The pain.
So when I visited a financial services office the next day to perform a notary signing, guess what? I created for myself the perfect opportunity to practice. To own my power, to provoke someone elses own state of powerlessness and have them direct their anger toward me and to remember, it wasn’t about me. It was about the other feeling powerless in that moment.
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I wish I could have been more Ghandi or Mother Theresa-like when she began insulting me about my competency as a Notary in front of her office staff and our clients.
But I’m guilty of being human.
I was hurt. I was confused. It was terribly uncomfortable. I wanted to pinch her head off. I wanted to ask her how being so unkind to me would support what we were there to do. I wanted to ask her, “Competition or collaboration?”
But she just kept hurling one insult after another at me. I was off balance. I couldn’t think straight or speak clearly. I fumbled for words and must have looked as diminished as I felt. I wanted to leave. I was angry and wanted to cry. I felt everything inside of me tighten up. Close down. Wadded up tiny piece of paper.
And I kept remembering the rehearsing I had done the day before. While I bounced these new ideas in my head off the Mynde that is your equal. And she kept telling me, “this isn’t about you honey.”
So in my head, I blessed the situation. I sat at the conference room table, while her notary came into the room to stand over me and do the job I couldn’t do for her. Explain the documents to the borrower. “What does this HUD-1 Addendum mean..?”
I said in my head, “Thank you. I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” Over and over. Maybe fifty times.
Later, as we wrapped things up and she and her notary left the conference room, the borrowers engaged me. They had seen something. I imagine it was what holding my center looked like, even though it felt otherwise.
My tightness was obvious. I am not a Saint. But I know I did better than I ever had before.
And they saw it too. I think they wanted to know how I was. Check in with me. In a strange way, I felt acknowledged. Validated. Compassion from strangers.
And after a good vent with my girlfriend, allowing the tears to flow and the anger and disappointment with them, I could easily remember what powerless felt like. I was in the midst of feeling it myself.
I also know what it’s like to act out from that place. It often causes me even more pain. And I didn’t want it. Not for myself. Not for her. Not for the other people in the room.
Somehow, I had avoided sliding down the slippery slope of believing that her experience, her wisdom and knowledge, was greater than mine. I had not stepped into that old, familiar role of underling. Thanks to my recent breakthrough with help from my coach.
It took me getting completely clear of the situation before the realization that even though she was the one hurling insults, she was afraid of being found out. She didn’t know how to explain the documents to her borrowers.
And I knew it wasn’t my job to explain them. I had told her that. That’s how it had all started.
It might have been a sore spot for her. Or maybe she was uncomfortable in the not knowing. Having the expectation of herself that she ought to know but didn’t. Or maybe she was worried about what her clients would think if she wasn’t fully in her expert mode 100% of the time. At least those are the places I have frequented in my states of powerlessness.
I don’t think she knew she was showing up afraid. I don’t think she intended to insult me. I think she was not in control of her self, her powerlessness. She felt bad and acted out.
And I believe that I helped to create the situation. I certainly participated in it. But from a whole new place. A place of self-acceptance (it’s not about me). A place of compassion (I’ve felt that way too). A place of Love (I am willing to see this differently.)
Jedi.
