The first month was really fun. I wrote a letter home to family and friends every day for 31 days, from 15 May to 14 June. Thanks to everyone who was generous enough to share their address with me...made it much easier to complete the challenge. If you want in on the fun, send me your address, and I'll keep it going :)
There were a few times when it was kinda like cooking dinner: I don't mind cooking as long as I don't have to figure out *what* to cook. I didn't mind writing the letters; that part was super easy. The very hard part was coming up with someone to write to. I went through most of my family, which is not very large. I asked my peer group if anyone wanted to exchange letters, and had a couple of wonderful women to write to. I even trolled Facebook to remind myself of good friends that, honestly, I couldn't believe I didn't think of on my own.
And the other hard part was my handwriting. I sorta felt like I was back in 3rd grade, when my very worst grade ever was a C in handwriting. Let's just say it hasn't gotten any better in the intervening 36 years. I really did try to be neat too. My hand just can't keep up with my brain, no matter how hard it tries. So, thanks also to everyone for bearing with and through my chicken scratch.
Just when I was starting to lose a little bit of enthusiasm for the challenge, I started getting return letters in the mail, or FB messages that people had gotten their notes, and enjoyed them. Never mind that I had talked or corresponded with them in the interim...somehow I didn't run out of things to write in the letters. Little details about living in Bahrain, my flat, my job. Plenty of stuff to natter on about.
So, one challenge done. Time for the next one. Warning: foul language alert...
Oof. No cussing for 30 days, from 15 June to 14 July. Good thing this one isn't in a 31-day month. And I need rules this time. Real rules. Written rules. Rules I can't sea-lawyer my way out of.
Here goes:
-- Using cuss words while I'm writing the rules doesn't count against me, so that I can have a very clearly defined list of what is unacceptable.
-- Unacceptable words are: f*ck (which will be the hardest one ever for me to not use, so it comes first), sh*t, damn, piss, bitch (eek, another tough one), ass, the c-word, christ, d*ck, c*ck.
-- I may add to this list, but not take any off of it during the course of the month.
-- Derivatives of the above words are also unacceptable: pisser, mutherf*cker, sunovabitch, asshat, asshole, jackass, asswipe (what is it about ass that it lends itself to so many combinations?), g*ddamn, d*ckwad, c*cksucker, and so on. (Yes, I have used each of these in the past, so this is a fairly onerous requirement)
-- Other, less offensive or like-sounding combinations that don't actually use the unacceptable words are allowed: sunovabiscuit, jackhole, patootie, mutherclucker, sugar, shinola...feel free to add more suggestions to build my repertoire in the comments.
-- I must keep a running total of how many times I slip and do use the unacceptable words over the course of the next 30 days, starting once this post is finished until 2359 on Friday, 14 July (I will probably go to bed early that night...either that, or I'll stay up and let loose a five minute string of foul-mouthed expletives that have built up over the previous 30 days...hahahaha).
-- Each time I use an unacceptable word, I will accrue charges on a Fibonacci scale, starting at $1 in full dollar-increments. At the end of the month, I will donate these accrued charges to a worthwhile, but frivolous-to-me charity. Any suggestions?
And away we go...Challenge starts...NOW, 0928, 15 June 2018.
Friday, June 15, 2018
Tuesday, May 1, 2018
A Year of Challenges
No, really, a year of challenges. I'm not talking the, "oh this job is going to be full of challenges" kind of challenges. I mean 12 30-day challenges...one for each month that I'm here.
I'll probably start on 15 May, and run each one until the 15th of the next month. I still need a little time to settle in, get over the jet lag, and, oh yeah, learn my job...
I have 10 of them already identified, and need help with figuring out what the last two should be. Of course, a few of them are food related:
-- Whole 30...google it...way easier than me trying to explain it.
-- No sugar...like, really, no sugar. Not even my weaselly little attempts to satisfy my sweet tooth with dextrose-made treats. I'll allow dates...but only to give myself time to try more food from this region.
-- Cooking from scratch, or whatever is in the cabinets. I really enjoyed this one from a year or so ago...time to try it again. I'll save this one for towards the end of my year here, so I can use up all the random bits of stuff before I have to leave.
-- "Local eating." In the local groceries, most everything is labeled with its country of origin. I don't think I'd be able to eat just from Bahrain, but maybe from the Combatant Commander's AOR? I'll have to do some research for this one to figure out what is reasonable.
Other challenges:
-- 30-day writing challenge. Yup, another oldie but goodie. Won't be fun sea stories, but I'm sure I can come up with good tidbits on a daily basis.
-- No cussing...yeek! I definitely need to do this one. And because I'm me, there's a consequence attached for when I inevitably don't meet my own standard. I'll use a Fibonacci sequence to accrue charges. My first offense (and by offense I mean, each individual cuss word I say in earshot of another person) will be $1, 2nd will be $1, 3rd will be $2, 4th will be $3, 5th will be $5...you get the idea. And I will donate the money I've charged myself to a charity I would normally never support. I can't quite bring myself to donate it to a charity whose work I actively oppose, but something I think is...frivolous, maybe. I promise details on my running tab. Any suggestions for charities?
-- One mindfulness exercise a day from a lovely little book I picked up on my travels somewhere, called "I Am Here Now" by The Mindfulness Project. I should probably start with this one. Get me in the right mindset, and all.
-- Take the stairs to my flat once a day. Note: this is not an idle challenge. I live on the 19th floor. Oof.
-- Write and send one letter or card through the mail each day. One of the little perks of my current assignment is free postage. I should definitely take advantage of that!
-- Take a picture a day. Of some thing interesting. And post it with a caption.
So two questions for you, my delightful readers:
-- What should my remaining 2 challenges be?
-- To what frivolous charity should I donate my inevitable "no cussing" charges?
I very much appreciate any suggestions!!
Thursday, April 19, 2018
Onward
I left DC for the foreseeable future yesterday. I didn’t even notice.
My last post was a few months ago, and I feel like a lifetime has happened since then. I started working with a coach, ostensibly in preparation for managing 225 people, but really that was just the excuse I used to give myself permission to do it. It has a lot more with wanting to reach my full potential, and feeling stuck professionally. I know I can do more, be better, live more fully, and since I identify a lot with work, that felt like a safe place for progress.
During our most recent session, my Coach asked what I wanted to discuss. I had three things I wanted to get through: my reaction to her previous assignment which was to pay attention to why people tell me they want to work for me again, some closure for the job I just finished at CG-751, and plans for the upcoming two weeks before our next session. Honestly, I didn’t know that’s what I wanted to talk about with her before the session, but it sounded like a good framework, nice and manageable, so that’s what I went with.
We started with my observations about why people want to work with or for me again. I said that I’m authentic; people know what they’re getting with me, I don’t pull punches or try to sugar coat things, and I think that encourages them to trust me. And I value input. Lawd knows, I don’t have all the answers, and have learned that the best way to get them is to ask questions, and then listen to the answers. It makes people feel valued to have their opinions and expertise asked for and taken into account. That doesn’t mean that I take what people say as completely actionable gospel truth all the time; I do, however, somehow manage to convey that I appreciate their input.
And then we talked about finishing up at CG-751. I told her I had officially left the office, but still had one briefing left to do because I was a control freak and couldn’t let this one project go before doing the initial brief for CG-821 and CG-0921. She wouldn’t let me get away with the “control freak” comment, saying I said it like it was a bad thing. And I guess I’ve always interpreted it that way, or let other people interpret it that way for me. What I ended up realizing I actually meant was that I was the best person to give the brief because I spent innumerable hours studying the subject, asking for stakeholder input, identifying and clarifying the nuances, and distilling what I knew into a revised instruction. That’s what made me the right person for the brief, not that I’m a control freak.
Somehow through that discussion we got into my service reputation, and how I didn’t want to screw up briefing -821/-0921. I told her the story of the initial round of input I got from those two offices: a colleague consolidated comments from the offices and forwarded it back to me in an email that said (paraphrasing), there are some concerns with this. I saw the initial email on my cell phone, which meant that I couldn’t open the document to immediately read the comments and then spent the next 13 hours torturing myself thinking that they had basically shat all over it, thinking it was ridiculous, didn’t serve any basic purpose, and was a monumental waste of time. When I finally did get the document open the next morning to read the comments, I laughed when I read the very first comment which was (again paraphrasing), this is a good idea, but may be difficult to execute in the field.
The joke was totally on me!! Of course I know that the changes I propose will be difficult to execute in the field...any kind of change is hard. And it will take lots of effort from my former office to bring people up to speed on the changes, because they are complex and nuanced. But, in the end, my best piece of work was pretty damn good. Not perfect…not by a long shot...but a good starting point from which someone else can continue to incorporate stakeholder input for a much improved final product.
My last post was a few months ago, and I feel like a lifetime has happened since then. I started working with a coach, ostensibly in preparation for managing 225 people, but really that was just the excuse I used to give myself permission to do it. It has a lot more with wanting to reach my full potential, and feeling stuck professionally. I know I can do more, be better, live more fully, and since I identify a lot with work, that felt like a safe place for progress.
During our most recent session, my Coach asked what I wanted to discuss. I had three things I wanted to get through: my reaction to her previous assignment which was to pay attention to why people tell me they want to work for me again, some closure for the job I just finished at CG-751, and plans for the upcoming two weeks before our next session. Honestly, I didn’t know that’s what I wanted to talk about with her before the session, but it sounded like a good framework, nice and manageable, so that’s what I went with.
We started with my observations about why people want to work with or for me again. I said that I’m authentic; people know what they’re getting with me, I don’t pull punches or try to sugar coat things, and I think that encourages them to trust me. And I value input. Lawd knows, I don’t have all the answers, and have learned that the best way to get them is to ask questions, and then listen to the answers. It makes people feel valued to have their opinions and expertise asked for and taken into account. That doesn’t mean that I take what people say as completely actionable gospel truth all the time; I do, however, somehow manage to convey that I appreciate their input.
And then we talked about finishing up at CG-751. I told her I had officially left the office, but still had one briefing left to do because I was a control freak and couldn’t let this one project go before doing the initial brief for CG-821 and CG-0921. She wouldn’t let me get away with the “control freak” comment, saying I said it like it was a bad thing. And I guess I’ve always interpreted it that way, or let other people interpret it that way for me. What I ended up realizing I actually meant was that I was the best person to give the brief because I spent innumerable hours studying the subject, asking for stakeholder input, identifying and clarifying the nuances, and distilling what I knew into a revised instruction. That’s what made me the right person for the brief, not that I’m a control freak.
Somehow through that discussion we got into my service reputation, and how I didn’t want to screw up briefing -821/-0921. I told her the story of the initial round of input I got from those two offices: a colleague consolidated comments from the offices and forwarded it back to me in an email that said (paraphrasing), there are some concerns with this. I saw the initial email on my cell phone, which meant that I couldn’t open the document to immediately read the comments and then spent the next 13 hours torturing myself thinking that they had basically shat all over it, thinking it was ridiculous, didn’t serve any basic purpose, and was a monumental waste of time. When I finally did get the document open the next morning to read the comments, I laughed when I read the very first comment which was (again paraphrasing), this is a good idea, but may be difficult to execute in the field.
The joke was totally on me!! Of course I know that the changes I propose will be difficult to execute in the field...any kind of change is hard. And it will take lots of effort from my former office to bring people up to speed on the changes, because they are complex and nuanced. But, in the end, my best piece of work was pretty damn good. Not perfect…not by a long shot...but a good starting point from which someone else can continue to incorporate stakeholder input for a much improved final product.
Again, I’m not sure how it came up in the conversation...probably something about feeling like I need to prove myself to my CG-821 Seagull shipmates, that I am terrified of my own success. Like scared to death that I am actually as good as people tell me I am. It feels too much like Icarus flying too close to the sun, and having the wax melt off his wings, and then plunging, unstoppable and crashing with all bones broken into the sea below. Like I might start to believe my own mythology that I really am that good, and that’s just asking for disaster, maybe because of Murphy, but more likely because I may stop doing the things that actually make me good.
So, Coach asked me to do a little exercise. I got up from my seat, and started from a mental point of authenticity and wanting and valuing other people’s input. I walked towards a mental point of believing my own mythology. And, oddly enough, right before I got there, I just stopped. I didn’t want to go any further. There was reluctance in my bones of being too full of myself, too taken by my success to listen to what other people have to offer. It was an interesting exercise.
Afterwards, as we discussed how that little walking trip of a couple of steps felt, I described it as feeling like I could now see the chasm that existed between trusting my values (listening to other people and being authentically me) and my fear of success. That chasm is my fear of believing my mythology to the exclusion of things I value. I felt a bridge slowly being built, just by recognizing that the chasm was there.
I know this sounds all very woo-woo in plain black words on the page, but it felt important and foundational.
She also suggested I read, The Secret Thoughts of Highly Successful Women, by Valerie Young. I’m about four chapters into it, and identify deeply with the Impostor Syndrome she discusses: A childhood where I was assumed to be the smartest one in my class -- check (I skipped 1st grade, was reading at a 5th grade level at the start of 2nd grade, had to take as many AP courses as possible in lieu of the vocational classes I actually wanted to take, graduated high school at 16, and college was *always* and inescapably the next step after high school...never mind always being on the Honor Roll and a member of the Honor Society, and getting high SAT scores); being different than the majority...most obviously a woman in a man’s vocation -- check (starting with working on a farm at age of 14 (side story below about that, which I absolutely *love*) and learning to drive a tractor, working on the farm through college and wanting to work with the animals but being relegated to the greenhouse because that’s where all the girls worked, then on to graduate school where somehow my research fields were the only ones ruined when the drainage ditches were dredged into my plots, and well, then into the Coast Guard and especially on to Coast Guard cutters, where, even though I had a guaranteed District coming out of boot camp, there was only one ship I could go to because it was the only one in the district that had enlisted female berthing) but also just by being different -- check (an OCSer in a fleet of Academy grads and having stepped my first foot on Coast Guard ship at the age of 26 for my OCS interview and then five short sea service years later, finding myself in command of a cutter...in a war zone, no less, without the benefit of all the semesters of Nautical Science or summers underway); and feeling like the representative woman in that man’s world who took on responsibility for the entire gender with my performance -- check (after telling a group of (male) Navy peers that I successfully screened for command having one of them say, “Must be nice to be a girl,” “Not everyone is Wonder Woman like you are, OPS,” being the only woman on my last three ships for at least a year...which I wouldn’t give up for the world, but definitely left me feeling like my gender difference made me...different).
So it’s been an interesting read. One great insight I realized from reading it is the difference between thinking and feeling. I can rationalize that I’m good at my job; in fact, I’ve said it numerous times, “cognitively, I know I’m good at what I do.” But thinking won’t get me out of the Impostor Syndrome, because it’s something I feel. I feel like an imposter. I have to *feel* my way out of it. For someone who was absolutely *all* “T” in my last Myers-Briggs test...well, that’s an interesting and daunting realization.
Now on to the fun story about the Farm: a few nights before I left DC, I went for dinner with Leigh and Lynn and Merle from the Farm I worked on in high school, starting when I was 14. That was definitely one of the best things about living in DC for me, was being able to reconnect with the Farm folks. Lynn and Guy, two of the owners, especially, were very influential in my formative years. It’s so lovely to go back to the Farm and jump in, with minimal task direction, and just know what needs to be done. I’m pretty sure I can pack a peck of peaches with my eyes closed...which I would *NEVER* do, Lynn, because how else would I see if there were any blemishes on the fruit before placing it carefully, stem side down in the basket.
Before we sat down for dinner, Lynn and Leigh presented me with a gift bag, all nicely tied up with colorful ribbon. I unwrapped the white packing paper, and saw my original tractor operator and tractor safety training certificate wonderfully framed, ready to hang on the wall in my next office (when I got home, I immediately put it in my checked baggage to make sure I’d have it with me when I got to Bahrain). Lynn and Leigh had been cleaning out the Farm’s office, and had stumbled across the originals of a few of us young oldtimers in the files. It was dated June 1988, signed in blue and black ink by the two instructors. I hadn’t thought about that class in decades, but it was probably my first professional accomplishment. I was so touched that they framed it and gave it to me.
So, Coach asked me to do a little exercise. I got up from my seat, and started from a mental point of authenticity and wanting and valuing other people’s input. I walked towards a mental point of believing my own mythology. And, oddly enough, right before I got there, I just stopped. I didn’t want to go any further. There was reluctance in my bones of being too full of myself, too taken by my success to listen to what other people have to offer. It was an interesting exercise.
Afterwards, as we discussed how that little walking trip of a couple of steps felt, I described it as feeling like I could now see the chasm that existed between trusting my values (listening to other people and being authentically me) and my fear of success. That chasm is my fear of believing my mythology to the exclusion of things I value. I felt a bridge slowly being built, just by recognizing that the chasm was there.
I know this sounds all very woo-woo in plain black words on the page, but it felt important and foundational.
She also suggested I read, The Secret Thoughts of Highly Successful Women, by Valerie Young. I’m about four chapters into it, and identify deeply with the Impostor Syndrome she discusses: A childhood where I was assumed to be the smartest one in my class -- check (I skipped 1st grade, was reading at a 5th grade level at the start of 2nd grade, had to take as many AP courses as possible in lieu of the vocational classes I actually wanted to take, graduated high school at 16, and college was *always* and inescapably the next step after high school...never mind always being on the Honor Roll and a member of the Honor Society, and getting high SAT scores); being different than the majority...most obviously a woman in a man’s vocation -- check (starting with working on a farm at age of 14 (side story below about that, which I absolutely *love*) and learning to drive a tractor, working on the farm through college and wanting to work with the animals but being relegated to the greenhouse because that’s where all the girls worked, then on to graduate school where somehow my research fields were the only ones ruined when the drainage ditches were dredged into my plots, and well, then into the Coast Guard and especially on to Coast Guard cutters, where, even though I had a guaranteed District coming out of boot camp, there was only one ship I could go to because it was the only one in the district that had enlisted female berthing) but also just by being different -- check (an OCSer in a fleet of Academy grads and having stepped my first foot on Coast Guard ship at the age of 26 for my OCS interview and then five short sea service years later, finding myself in command of a cutter...in a war zone, no less, without the benefit of all the semesters of Nautical Science or summers underway); and feeling like the representative woman in that man’s world who took on responsibility for the entire gender with my performance -- check (after telling a group of (male) Navy peers that I successfully screened for command having one of them say, “Must be nice to be a girl,” “Not everyone is Wonder Woman like you are, OPS,” being the only woman on my last three ships for at least a year...which I wouldn’t give up for the world, but definitely left me feeling like my gender difference made me...different).
So it’s been an interesting read. One great insight I realized from reading it is the difference between thinking and feeling. I can rationalize that I’m good at my job; in fact, I’ve said it numerous times, “cognitively, I know I’m good at what I do.” But thinking won’t get me out of the Impostor Syndrome, because it’s something I feel. I feel like an imposter. I have to *feel* my way out of it. For someone who was absolutely *all* “T” in my last Myers-Briggs test...well, that’s an interesting and daunting realization.
Now on to the fun story about the Farm: a few nights before I left DC, I went for dinner with Leigh and Lynn and Merle from the Farm I worked on in high school, starting when I was 14. That was definitely one of the best things about living in DC for me, was being able to reconnect with the Farm folks. Lynn and Guy, two of the owners, especially, were very influential in my formative years. It’s so lovely to go back to the Farm and jump in, with minimal task direction, and just know what needs to be done. I’m pretty sure I can pack a peck of peaches with my eyes closed...which I would *NEVER* do, Lynn, because how else would I see if there were any blemishes on the fruit before placing it carefully, stem side down in the basket.
Before we sat down for dinner, Lynn and Leigh presented me with a gift bag, all nicely tied up with colorful ribbon. I unwrapped the white packing paper, and saw my original tractor operator and tractor safety training certificate wonderfully framed, ready to hang on the wall in my next office (when I got home, I immediately put it in my checked baggage to make sure I’d have it with me when I got to Bahrain). Lynn and Leigh had been cleaning out the Farm’s office, and had stumbled across the originals of a few of us young oldtimers in the files. It was dated June 1988, signed in blue and black ink by the two instructors. I hadn’t thought about that class in decades, but it was probably my first professional accomplishment. I was so touched that they framed it and gave it to me.
Monday, February 26, 2018
Slow Yer Roll, There, Sister Roar
Yep, after yesterday's post all high and full of righteousness, I was...not mean, but certainly not kind to someone today. This is my confession.
It was at the end of a long day, where I had spent most of the day heavily concentrating on Big Thoughts. I did eat lunch, and even an afternoon snack. But I was tired. And frustrated. My Big Thought project was hitting obstacle after obstacle, to the point where I just decided to give up for the day and try again tomorrow.
I figured I'd do one menial and tedious task before I left. I didn't know where to start. So I asked someone who, if they didn't know, was the right person to find out for me. S/he is not the easiest person for me to talk to, being nearly dumbstruck with what comes across as fear of me, but I suspect is just general unease around people s/he doesn't know well.
I thought I asked my question carefully, but s/he didn't answer what i asked, and instead went off on a shiny metal object tangent. Once I realized that's what was happening, I got more direct. Like freshly sharpened knife direct, slicing straight through to my point which was I expected hir to be the expert on their area of responsibility.
In my book, from years of working on the farm, it's totally okay to admit you don't know something. But lawd help you if you sit on that as an excuse like a contented toad on a toadstool looking perfectly pleased with yourself, instead of saying very simply, "I don't know. Let me find out and get back to you."
Obviously the conversation went down hill from there. And out went all my high-fallutin' ambitions of treating individual with respect for their own uniqueness. I didn't yell, (miraculously) didn't cuss, and wasn't overtly disrespectful, but I surely wasn't kind either. I walked away feeling even more frustrated than when I went to ask my question and a little angry with myself for kicking a puppy (**figuratively, ** people...jeez!).
I'm trying to figure out how to deal with this tomorrow. This person does not work for me, but provides me with required support services. And I saw on my phone (but did not read the email) that s/he sent an email out with a subject line that indicates it's the information I requested. But staring at me dumbfounded and making excuses about not knowing basic required knowledge...? Well, let's just say I don't have a lot of tolerance for the excuses.
I know I should look at this from hir point of view. I have no idea what hir workload is or what I interrupted with my question. I'll likely address it with hir supervisor and see how this incident fits in with their prior stated expectations for hir. And not go overboard being nice to hir, but certainly trying harder to be more understanding and less instantaneously judgmental.
It's a work in progress. *I'm* a work in progress.
It was at the end of a long day, where I had spent most of the day heavily concentrating on Big Thoughts. I did eat lunch, and even an afternoon snack. But I was tired. And frustrated. My Big Thought project was hitting obstacle after obstacle, to the point where I just decided to give up for the day and try again tomorrow.
I figured I'd do one menial and tedious task before I left. I didn't know where to start. So I asked someone who, if they didn't know, was the right person to find out for me. S/he is not the easiest person for me to talk to, being nearly dumbstruck with what comes across as fear of me, but I suspect is just general unease around people s/he doesn't know well.
I thought I asked my question carefully, but s/he didn't answer what i asked, and instead went off on a shiny metal object tangent. Once I realized that's what was happening, I got more direct. Like freshly sharpened knife direct, slicing straight through to my point which was I expected hir to be the expert on their area of responsibility.
In my book, from years of working on the farm, it's totally okay to admit you don't know something. But lawd help you if you sit on that as an excuse like a contented toad on a toadstool looking perfectly pleased with yourself, instead of saying very simply, "I don't know. Let me find out and get back to you."
Obviously the conversation went down hill from there. And out went all my high-fallutin' ambitions of treating individual with respect for their own uniqueness. I didn't yell, (miraculously) didn't cuss, and wasn't overtly disrespectful, but I surely wasn't kind either. I walked away feeling even more frustrated than when I went to ask my question and a little angry with myself for kicking a puppy (**figuratively, ** people...jeez!).
I'm trying to figure out how to deal with this tomorrow. This person does not work for me, but provides me with required support services. And I saw on my phone (but did not read the email) that s/he sent an email out with a subject line that indicates it's the information I requested. But staring at me dumbfounded and making excuses about not knowing basic required knowledge...? Well, let's just say I don't have a lot of tolerance for the excuses.
I know I should look at this from hir point of view. I have no idea what hir workload is or what I interrupted with my question. I'll likely address it with hir supervisor and see how this incident fits in with their prior stated expectations for hir. And not go overboard being nice to hir, but certainly trying harder to be more understanding and less instantaneously judgmental.
It's a work in progress. *I'm* a work in progress.
Sunday, February 25, 2018
I Didn't Drown...or More Thoughts on Finding Strength in Vulnerabilities
Convincing my super strong lizard brain that I wasn't going to drown...well, that's another story.
One of the training sessions during PDT was water survival, designed to teach us how to get out of heavy ballistic plate armor if we fall in the water. Very reasonable and useful training, making sure we have at least some muscle memory of how to save ourselves in case things go Very Badly Wrong.
The training is done in steps, crawl-walk-run style. The crawl part was a skills assessment. Very basic. I'm a strong swimmer. I love to swim...am basically a fish without gills. My mom had to threaten dire consequences to get me out of the pool when I was a kid.
But, (there's always a but) I hate feeling like I can't breathe. It...well, um...it Terrifies me. Which is weird, because I can hold my breath a reasonable amount of time. I do controlled breathing exercises in yoga and for meditation. But you add water, and I freak tf out.
The skills assessment didn't go well the first time. I wore myself out trying to do the dead man's float (face down, holding my breath), and tapped out after about 2 minutes of it. I was panting too hard to control my breathing to willingly put my face in the water. Didn't bode well for the rest of the training.
And it **FRUstrated** me. I knew it was in my head. There was nothing the instructors were asking me to do that I was physically challenged to do. But that damn lizard brain at the base of my skull got aholt of me, and terrorized me with a desire for flight. I sloshed out of the pool after failing the skills assessment.
I didn't cry in front of everyone. I stepped outside to do that.
I sulked for a few more minutes, chastising myself that this was the easy part, wtf was I going to do when we got to the fast walk drills. Finally, I swallowed enough of my pride to go into the shallow end to work with one of the instructors for "remediation." I did the dead man's float by itself for about 25 seconds, and then immediately had to take about 2 minutes to compose myself so I didn't burst out in tears in front of the instructor (he was very patient).
In the meantime, the rest of the group was working their way through the slow walk stages of the training. At least my lizard brain didn't impede their progress with her nonsense.
Once I convinced myself that I wasn't going to die during the dead man's float, I successfully passed the skills assessment. I sang The Eagles, "Take It Easy" to myself, and rubbed the thumbs and forefingers of each hand together to distract that lizard bitch. Whatever. It worked.
And that was the end of Day 1. I spent a good part of the evening in a mixture of a) wondering what tf was wrong with me, b) berating myself for being such a f'ing delicate snowflake, c) thoroughly dreading the next day, and d) absolutely not facing the reality that I had to get through this somehow. Emailing, texting, then calling my sister helped. She's pretty skilled at calling my bullshit what it is.
I passed the next phase fairly easily first thing in the morning, while everyone else was getting ready for two steps ahead of me. Then it was on to more work in the shallow end. This is how it went for me in the shallow end: go through the required steps out of the pool, lower myself into the water, psyche myself up to go under, freak out a little, take a few more deep breaths, go through the steps again out loud with the instructor, psyche myself up to go under, take a deep breath, go under, get through one or two of the steps, freak out a lot, stand up and gasp for air, stand there feeling foolish and ridiculous and pitiful and pathetic...and repeat, like two more times. I think one of those times I didn't even make an attempt to do anything, just went straight to freak out mode. They didn't count that one against me.
After what felt like a thousand times, but I'm pretty sure was only the three we're allowed, I was able to get through the first task. You know, the easy one. There was significantly more psyching up to do for the second task...you know, the much harder one. We were still in the shallow end. Somehow, idk, maybe the lizard brain was finally wearing out or maybe, just maybe, realizing that I was going to do this regardless of her input and she should ease up on convincing me that flight was the only response, I managed to get through the second task on the first try.
I was still two steps behind the rest of the group; they were progressing fantastically, and making it look easy at the same time. Then I had to move up to the deep end for the next stage. It was the same tasks as the shallow end, just, you know, in the deep end, where I couldn't stand up if things started to fall apart for me.
It was about this time that one of the guys who hadn't passed the skills assessment (also a strong swimmer, just having difficulties with having boots on in the water) told me he was impressed with my ability to stick it through despite my difficulties. I think I made some brush off comment about being overly stubborn.
But the truth was, I was still terrified that I wouldn't successfully finish each of the remaining tasks, and I'd have to go into the remedial swim training when I got in theater. Not only would that be completely mortifying to my pride, it would also take precious time away from my ability to Do. My. Job. So into the deep end I jumped...after staring at the water for 30 seconds, walking through each step in my head, freaking out a little, deep breathing, staring at the water...well, you get the picture. I was not being shy about my freaked-out-edness.
For the second task, the harder task in the deep end, I talked myself out of jumping a couple of times, tried to get one of the JOs who had to do it again to go ahead of me, and then realized that wasn't fair because s/he wasn't ready either. When I stepped back up to the edge, I stood there, breathing, looking at the water, and then looked up. I saw a gaggle of the high-speed, super low-drag crowd standing by the lifeguard's stand about 20 feet away. As soon as they saw me looking at them, they quickly looked away..."No, why of course not, we weren't looking at you. Why would we do that? Nope, we were looking at that fascinating ceiling beam up there." My lizard brain had too much of a grip on me for to do more than note it at the time, but later, I realized they were concerned about me, watching me to make sure I was okay. And was going to be okay.
I got through the second deep end jump successfully. One of the Chiefs came up to me as I was prepping for the next task. He said, referring to a conversation we had previously, "sometimes your battles are not about you at all," and told me the JO who I tried to get to go first, who was also struggling, did it more easily because I did it at all. Perspective.
The third deep end task...well, we got to hold on to the side of the pool for it. And then came the platform jumps. By this time, I had caught up with the rest of the group, thankfully. And I had also come way too far to give up and quit, even though the platform jumps scared the bejeezus out of me and I really, omg, so very badly didn't want to do them. I got through the first jump successfully enough. And then somehow, managed to find myself on the platform again for the second, harder jump. And I jumped. I got a couple breaths, and then tried to get one more, as I shed equipment, but wasn't quite able to manage it. My panic started to set in, and then somehow a thought passed through my mind that I didn't need to breathe yet. I had enough air to make it through the last crucial step to get the majority of the drowning weight off my body, and from there I was home free.
As I climbed the platform for the last, easiest jump of the day, one of the instructors said something along the lines of being very impressed with my courage and that he'd serve with me any day.
Um, they all just saw me almost lose my shit, struggle with and almost fail at some really simple tasks, and that's the response I got? Huh. Not what I expected.
From the perspective of a few weeks, I (obviously) have a few thoughts about the experience. The majority of the early days in my working life, both before and in the Coast Guard, were all about not showing vulnerabilities, not being perceived as weak, making everything look as easy as freaking possible. If I did any of that weak stuff, I was pegged as a useless girl, and then I had to work twice or three times as hard to prove myself the next time. So I limited my vulnerabilities...or I limited my willingness to admit I had any, even (and probably most damaging) to myself. I shoved them all deep down, away from the bright light of day as much as I possibly could.
It's just recently that I've started to wonder, as I work on becoming my most honest version of myself, if those vulnerabilities I buried so deep could actually make me better at what I do; maybe make me better able to appreciate another person's experience, or offer them a way to connect with me through shared perspectives, or make me think about a situation differently while looking for the best of a bunch of bad solutions to a problem. Or maybe just give me a stronger foundation, a more complete me, from which to act and react.
On the last drive back to DC from NC after training, I listened to a bunch of podcasts, one of which was Freakonomics podcast titled, "After the Glass Ceiling, the Glass Cliff," about the 5.4% of Fortune 500 CEOs who are women. From one of the interviewees, Michelle Ryan, "...we should see that after women were appointed to these boards of directors, share price should go down. But actually what we found was the opposite. What we found was when companies had been doing poorly, when their share price had been declining, they then appointed women to their boards of directors. So what we found was a really different causal problem. Rather than women wreaking havoc on company performance, what we found was when companies were doing badly, they were much more likely to appoint women."
The podcast goes on to talk about a series of experiments that Ryan used to delve more deeply into her results. "We had two incredibly well-qualified candidates for the job, one man and one woman. We gave their C.V.s, and descriptions of their experience. We gave photos of them, and we’d very carefully made sure that they were absolutely equally qualified for the job. And in fact, what we had was, we had two C.V.s, and we just switched their names on them, really, for every second participant in the study. And then we said, “Okay, who do you want? In a scenario where everything is doing well, who do you want: the man or the woman? And in a scenario where things were going badly, who do you want?”
"What we found was when everything is going well — when share price was going up, or when everything is hunky-dory — they were almost 50-50 likely to choose the man or the woman. But when things were going badly — when there was crisis on the horizon, where there’d been criticism, and where there was risk involved in the leadership position — they almost exclusively chose her. So we can conclude from that there’s some sort of preference for women when all is going badly."
The podcast goes on to talk about what might be behind that "preference for women when all is going badly." The theories range from shareholders wanting Mommy when things are going badly (seriously), to men not wanting the risk associated with a potentially failing company and having the options to say no, while women don't have the same career opportunities and are grateful enough for even a bad job, to unfair targeting on women-led companies by activist shareholders, to less than complimentary media coverage for women CEOs. I encourage you to read or listen to the whole thing.
I'm not entirely sure why I thought this podcast was so relevant to my thoughts on strength from vulnerabilities. Probably about shareholders wanting a CEO they think will be more collaborative and focused on teamwork like women are supposed to be. Turning what appear to be vulnerabilities (as compared to the aggressiveness ascribed to men) into strengths.
But that just makes me uncomfortable, too, ascribing certain qualities to a certain gender. I struggle (a lot) with the idea of the female identity solely as "...gentleness, empathy, sensitivity, caring, sweetness, compassion, tolerance, nurturance, deference, and succorance..." straight from Wikipedia's definition of femininity. That is simply not my world view, my experience, my being. Just for comparison, here is what Wikipedia has for masculinity, "courage, independence, violence, and assertiveness."
I am some of both of those things, and I really want to be valued by my organization, my bosses, my peers, my subordinates, my friends family and acquaintances, for Who I Am...for my essential Me-ness...that irrepeatable combination of quirks, qualities, quixoticisms born from my DNA, molded by my family, shaped by my experiences, honed by my challenges, burnished by my family and friends and breathed daily by this ephemeral mortal shell....not some societal generalization of what They think I should be because of my gender, my age, my skin color or any of those other things that are more by-products than essence.
It only works if I can offer the same respect to other Individuals I meet.
How's that for some mf'ing strength from vulnerabilities.
The training is done in steps, crawl-walk-run style. The crawl part was a skills assessment. Very basic. I'm a strong swimmer. I love to swim...am basically a fish without gills. My mom had to threaten dire consequences to get me out of the pool when I was a kid.
But, (there's always a but) I hate feeling like I can't breathe. It...well, um...it Terrifies me. Which is weird, because I can hold my breath a reasonable amount of time. I do controlled breathing exercises in yoga and for meditation. But you add water, and I freak tf out.
The skills assessment didn't go well the first time. I wore myself out trying to do the dead man's float (face down, holding my breath), and tapped out after about 2 minutes of it. I was panting too hard to control my breathing to willingly put my face in the water. Didn't bode well for the rest of the training.
And it **FRUstrated** me. I knew it was in my head. There was nothing the instructors were asking me to do that I was physically challenged to do. But that damn lizard brain at the base of my skull got aholt of me, and terrorized me with a desire for flight. I sloshed out of the pool after failing the skills assessment.
I didn't cry in front of everyone. I stepped outside to do that.
I sulked for a few more minutes, chastising myself that this was the easy part, wtf was I going to do when we got to the fast walk drills. Finally, I swallowed enough of my pride to go into the shallow end to work with one of the instructors for "remediation." I did the dead man's float by itself for about 25 seconds, and then immediately had to take about 2 minutes to compose myself so I didn't burst out in tears in front of the instructor (he was very patient).
In the meantime, the rest of the group was working their way through the slow walk stages of the training. At least my lizard brain didn't impede their progress with her nonsense.
Once I convinced myself that I wasn't going to die during the dead man's float, I successfully passed the skills assessment. I sang The Eagles, "Take It Easy" to myself, and rubbed the thumbs and forefingers of each hand together to distract that lizard bitch. Whatever. It worked.
And that was the end of Day 1. I spent a good part of the evening in a mixture of a) wondering what tf was wrong with me, b) berating myself for being such a f'ing delicate snowflake, c) thoroughly dreading the next day, and d) absolutely not facing the reality that I had to get through this somehow. Emailing, texting, then calling my sister helped. She's pretty skilled at calling my bullshit what it is.
I passed the next phase fairly easily first thing in the morning, while everyone else was getting ready for two steps ahead of me. Then it was on to more work in the shallow end. This is how it went for me in the shallow end: go through the required steps out of the pool, lower myself into the water, psyche myself up to go under, freak out a little, take a few more deep breaths, go through the steps again out loud with the instructor, psyche myself up to go under, take a deep breath, go under, get through one or two of the steps, freak out a lot, stand up and gasp for air, stand there feeling foolish and ridiculous and pitiful and pathetic...and repeat, like two more times. I think one of those times I didn't even make an attempt to do anything, just went straight to freak out mode. They didn't count that one against me.
After what felt like a thousand times, but I'm pretty sure was only the three we're allowed, I was able to get through the first task. You know, the easy one. There was significantly more psyching up to do for the second task...you know, the much harder one. We were still in the shallow end. Somehow, idk, maybe the lizard brain was finally wearing out or maybe, just maybe, realizing that I was going to do this regardless of her input and she should ease up on convincing me that flight was the only response, I managed to get through the second task on the first try.
I was still two steps behind the rest of the group; they were progressing fantastically, and making it look easy at the same time. Then I had to move up to the deep end for the next stage. It was the same tasks as the shallow end, just, you know, in the deep end, where I couldn't stand up if things started to fall apart for me.
It was about this time that one of the guys who hadn't passed the skills assessment (also a strong swimmer, just having difficulties with having boots on in the water) told me he was impressed with my ability to stick it through despite my difficulties. I think I made some brush off comment about being overly stubborn.
But the truth was, I was still terrified that I wouldn't successfully finish each of the remaining tasks, and I'd have to go into the remedial swim training when I got in theater. Not only would that be completely mortifying to my pride, it would also take precious time away from my ability to Do. My. Job. So into the deep end I jumped...after staring at the water for 30 seconds, walking through each step in my head, freaking out a little, deep breathing, staring at the water...well, you get the picture. I was not being shy about my freaked-out-edness.
For the second task, the harder task in the deep end, I talked myself out of jumping a couple of times, tried to get one of the JOs who had to do it again to go ahead of me, and then realized that wasn't fair because s/he wasn't ready either. When I stepped back up to the edge, I stood there, breathing, looking at the water, and then looked up. I saw a gaggle of the high-speed, super low-drag crowd standing by the lifeguard's stand about 20 feet away. As soon as they saw me looking at them, they quickly looked away..."No, why of course not, we weren't looking at you. Why would we do that? Nope, we were looking at that fascinating ceiling beam up there." My lizard brain had too much of a grip on me for to do more than note it at the time, but later, I realized they were concerned about me, watching me to make sure I was okay. And was going to be okay.
I got through the second deep end jump successfully. One of the Chiefs came up to me as I was prepping for the next task. He said, referring to a conversation we had previously, "sometimes your battles are not about you at all," and told me the JO who I tried to get to go first, who was also struggling, did it more easily because I did it at all. Perspective.
The third deep end task...well, we got to hold on to the side of the pool for it. And then came the platform jumps. By this time, I had caught up with the rest of the group, thankfully. And I had also come way too far to give up and quit, even though the platform jumps scared the bejeezus out of me and I really, omg, so very badly didn't want to do them. I got through the first jump successfully enough. And then somehow, managed to find myself on the platform again for the second, harder jump. And I jumped. I got a couple breaths, and then tried to get one more, as I shed equipment, but wasn't quite able to manage it. My panic started to set in, and then somehow a thought passed through my mind that I didn't need to breathe yet. I had enough air to make it through the last crucial step to get the majority of the drowning weight off my body, and from there I was home free.
As I climbed the platform for the last, easiest jump of the day, one of the instructors said something along the lines of being very impressed with my courage and that he'd serve with me any day.
Um, they all just saw me almost lose my shit, struggle with and almost fail at some really simple tasks, and that's the response I got? Huh. Not what I expected.
From the perspective of a few weeks, I (obviously) have a few thoughts about the experience. The majority of the early days in my working life, both before and in the Coast Guard, were all about not showing vulnerabilities, not being perceived as weak, making everything look as easy as freaking possible. If I did any of that weak stuff, I was pegged as a useless girl, and then I had to work twice or three times as hard to prove myself the next time. So I limited my vulnerabilities...or I limited my willingness to admit I had any, even (and probably most damaging) to myself. I shoved them all deep down, away from the bright light of day as much as I possibly could.
It's just recently that I've started to wonder, as I work on becoming my most honest version of myself, if those vulnerabilities I buried so deep could actually make me better at what I do; maybe make me better able to appreciate another person's experience, or offer them a way to connect with me through shared perspectives, or make me think about a situation differently while looking for the best of a bunch of bad solutions to a problem. Or maybe just give me a stronger foundation, a more complete me, from which to act and react.
On the last drive back to DC from NC after training, I listened to a bunch of podcasts, one of which was Freakonomics podcast titled, "After the Glass Ceiling, the Glass Cliff," about the 5.4% of Fortune 500 CEOs who are women. From one of the interviewees, Michelle Ryan, "...we should see that after women were appointed to these boards of directors, share price should go down. But actually what we found was the opposite. What we found was when companies had been doing poorly, when their share price had been declining, they then appointed women to their boards of directors. So what we found was a really different causal problem. Rather than women wreaking havoc on company performance, what we found was when companies were doing badly, they were much more likely to appoint women."
The podcast goes on to talk about a series of experiments that Ryan used to delve more deeply into her results. "We had two incredibly well-qualified candidates for the job, one man and one woman. We gave their C.V.s, and descriptions of their experience. We gave photos of them, and we’d very carefully made sure that they were absolutely equally qualified for the job. And in fact, what we had was, we had two C.V.s, and we just switched their names on them, really, for every second participant in the study. And then we said, “Okay, who do you want? In a scenario where everything is doing well, who do you want: the man or the woman? And in a scenario where things were going badly, who do you want?”
"What we found was when everything is going well — when share price was going up, or when everything is hunky-dory — they were almost 50-50 likely to choose the man or the woman. But when things were going badly — when there was crisis on the horizon, where there’d been criticism, and where there was risk involved in the leadership position — they almost exclusively chose her. So we can conclude from that there’s some sort of preference for women when all is going badly."
The podcast goes on to talk about what might be behind that "preference for women when all is going badly." The theories range from shareholders wanting Mommy when things are going badly (seriously), to men not wanting the risk associated with a potentially failing company and having the options to say no, while women don't have the same career opportunities and are grateful enough for even a bad job, to unfair targeting on women-led companies by activist shareholders, to less than complimentary media coverage for women CEOs. I encourage you to read or listen to the whole thing.
I'm not entirely sure why I thought this podcast was so relevant to my thoughts on strength from vulnerabilities. Probably about shareholders wanting a CEO they think will be more collaborative and focused on teamwork like women are supposed to be. Turning what appear to be vulnerabilities (as compared to the aggressiveness ascribed to men) into strengths.
But that just makes me uncomfortable, too, ascribing certain qualities to a certain gender. I struggle (a lot) with the idea of the female identity solely as "...gentleness, empathy, sensitivity, caring, sweetness, compassion, tolerance, nurturance, deference, and succorance..." straight from Wikipedia's definition of femininity. That is simply not my world view, my experience, my being. Just for comparison, here is what Wikipedia has for masculinity, "courage, independence, violence, and assertiveness."
I am some of both of those things, and I really want to be valued by my organization, my bosses, my peers, my subordinates, my friends family and acquaintances, for Who I Am...for my essential Me-ness...that irrepeatable combination of quirks, qualities, quixoticisms born from my DNA, molded by my family, shaped by my experiences, honed by my challenges, burnished by my family and friends and breathed daily by this ephemeral mortal shell....not some societal generalization of what They think I should be because of my gender, my age, my skin color or any of those other things that are more by-products than essence.
It only works if I can offer the same respect to other Individuals I meet.
How's that for some mf'ing strength from vulnerabilities.
Sunday, February 4, 2018
Lessons from Cultural Awareness Training
One of the training sessions we had last week during Pre-Deployment Training (PDT) was Cultural Awareness Training. A dynamic older gentlemen, former military (Army, I think), Arabic translator/interpreter, originally from Bahrain, taught the four-hour class. By the time we come home, we'll all have felt as if we had a year-long cultural awareness class, but this was to prep folks who haven't been there for some of the fundamental and practical differences between Bahrain and the US.
It only took about 30 minutes before he said something that put my back up. I don't remember the specifics, but I vaguely remember an extremely negative judgmental comment about homosexuality. I think it was meant as a generalization of religious dogma, but the speaker certainly didn't qualify it that way, so it came across as the truth as he saw it.
A few minutes later, he brought up gender roles and how men and women are treated in Bahrain. I know this is a push-button topic for me. I know I'm tecchy (i.e., touchy, with a spin of mountain pride) about it. I know I have some personal work to do here. So I was, maybe not prepared to be offended, but hugely aware it was a distinct possibility. Still, hearing him say blatantly that, in a group of locals and US military, the locals will always, always, always defer to the men. Never mind the rank or experience of the women, it's just not in their world view that women would have a useful opinion.
During the second break, the other O5 trainee in the group approached me. He's deploying too, but doesn't work directly in the same chain of command as I will. He had heard some of the conversations from the more junior members during the break that they were disturbed, uncomfortable, disgusted...pick your emotion...with the delivery of the training. He suggested I address it, either with the instructor, the training coordinators, or the group. I love having a task to complete, so I immediately went looking for someone to talk to.
I came across the instructor first, and discussed with him my intent to add a few comments to the group after he was done with his presentation. I think I managed to get my point across that a lot of what he was saying was uncomfortable, and that's what I was hoping to point out to the crews.
Finally, after a few more insults about how all women like to shop to excess and how my gray hair will make me be perceived as an elder despite my actual age, the presenter wrapped it up after four hours and six minutes. I strode up to the front of the room, made sure all the lights were on (they had been dimmed for the power point presentation), and thanked the presenter for his welcome insights into the Bahraini culture. Because it was helpful to hear about how welcoming and friendly the locals are, about the beauty of the culture, and about the variety of goods in the souks and all the other mundane tidbits he shared with us.
I knew I was balancing on a very thin, tight rope, so I chose my words carefully. I said very blatantly, "Some of what he said offended me." I explained further without attacking him personally, along the lines of whether we heard things that offended us because of our gender, our sexual orientation, our age, our religion, or whatever... there was plenty in what he said to make us uncomfortable. For myself, I said, it's incredibly demoralizing to hear that, in a mixed group of locals and US military, I will always be dismissed, even in favor of a man of a lower rank, simply because I'm female. It feels like 18 years of a hugely successful career has been wiped away and is meaningless, all because I'm a girl. And that makes me feel awful and worthless.
I then went on say that figuring out how to be ok with being uncomfortable is necessary for us to be effective in our operating environment. That doesn't mean just fighting against whatever is making us uncomfortable, because, where we're going, that could start an international incident. It means understanding what exactly is putting us off balance, and being strong and self-aware enough to know that whatever it is is not our truth, and is instead an artifact of us being in a different culture who operates under separate beliefs. We have to learn to accept a certain amount of discomfort to stay focused on what we're over there to do.
I tried not to ramble too long...jeez, we'd already been in there for 4+ hours. But I wanted to make sure they understood my point.
Beyond the more obvious lessons about sitting with what makes us uncomfortable, I took two other insights away from this training session that were maybe more useful to me:
1. Trust my instincts. I say this All The Time to my JOs, so it was good to have it reinforced for me. I knew what I heard (important distinction of "message received" from "message sent") was not in alignment with our collective CG values. It took someone else validating that for me to take action. I'm very grateful to the other O5 in giving me the impetus, or maybe the tacit permission, to address it with the group, and maybe make the most of my first real opportunity to be a leader for them.
2. Figure out how to make my vulnerabilities into my strengths. I used how I felt about what the instructor said about women as an example. "I was offended." I described why I was offended and how it made me feel. And then I followed up with what I was going to do about it as the teaching point. I'm still getting used to the possibilities of making my vulnerabilities my strengths, and this was a fantastic example of what it might look like. I definitely felt vulnerable up there, talking to E3s and E4s, and all those other people who are going to work for me, about my soft underbelly...my fears about my own inadequacies and how they manifest and undermine me. But I also think it made it relate-able, made it personal for everyone, so they could be ok with feeling uncomfortable with whatever they may come up against. Or, at least that's what I was aiming for.
Afterwards, I got a hugely welcome and supportive text from one of the COs: "Thank you for giving the follow up talk after the training. That was very necessary and clarified some of the things I wanted to make sure the crew understood...It was just what we all needed."
Yes. That's what it's all about.
It only took about 30 minutes before he said something that put my back up. I don't remember the specifics, but I vaguely remember an extremely negative judgmental comment about homosexuality. I think it was meant as a generalization of religious dogma, but the speaker certainly didn't qualify it that way, so it came across as the truth as he saw it.
A few minutes later, he brought up gender roles and how men and women are treated in Bahrain. I know this is a push-button topic for me. I know I'm tecchy (i.e., touchy, with a spin of mountain pride) about it. I know I have some personal work to do here. So I was, maybe not prepared to be offended, but hugely aware it was a distinct possibility. Still, hearing him say blatantly that, in a group of locals and US military, the locals will always, always, always defer to the men. Never mind the rank or experience of the women, it's just not in their world view that women would have a useful opinion.
During the second break, the other O5 trainee in the group approached me. He's deploying too, but doesn't work directly in the same chain of command as I will. He had heard some of the conversations from the more junior members during the break that they were disturbed, uncomfortable, disgusted...pick your emotion...with the delivery of the training. He suggested I address it, either with the instructor, the training coordinators, or the group. I love having a task to complete, so I immediately went looking for someone to talk to.
I came across the instructor first, and discussed with him my intent to add a few comments to the group after he was done with his presentation. I think I managed to get my point across that a lot of what he was saying was uncomfortable, and that's what I was hoping to point out to the crews.
Finally, after a few more insults about how all women like to shop to excess and how my gray hair will make me be perceived as an elder despite my actual age, the presenter wrapped it up after four hours and six minutes. I strode up to the front of the room, made sure all the lights were on (they had been dimmed for the power point presentation), and thanked the presenter for his welcome insights into the Bahraini culture. Because it was helpful to hear about how welcoming and friendly the locals are, about the beauty of the culture, and about the variety of goods in the souks and all the other mundane tidbits he shared with us.
I knew I was balancing on a very thin, tight rope, so I chose my words carefully. I said very blatantly, "Some of what he said offended me." I explained further without attacking him personally, along the lines of whether we heard things that offended us because of our gender, our sexual orientation, our age, our religion, or whatever... there was plenty in what he said to make us uncomfortable. For myself, I said, it's incredibly demoralizing to hear that, in a mixed group of locals and US military, I will always be dismissed, even in favor of a man of a lower rank, simply because I'm female. It feels like 18 years of a hugely successful career has been wiped away and is meaningless, all because I'm a girl. And that makes me feel awful and worthless.
I then went on say that figuring out how to be ok with being uncomfortable is necessary for us to be effective in our operating environment. That doesn't mean just fighting against whatever is making us uncomfortable, because, where we're going, that could start an international incident. It means understanding what exactly is putting us off balance, and being strong and self-aware enough to know that whatever it is is not our truth, and is instead an artifact of us being in a different culture who operates under separate beliefs. We have to learn to accept a certain amount of discomfort to stay focused on what we're over there to do.
I tried not to ramble too long...jeez, we'd already been in there for 4+ hours. But I wanted to make sure they understood my point.
Beyond the more obvious lessons about sitting with what makes us uncomfortable, I took two other insights away from this training session that were maybe more useful to me:
1. Trust my instincts. I say this All The Time to my JOs, so it was good to have it reinforced for me. I knew what I heard (important distinction of "message received" from "message sent") was not in alignment with our collective CG values. It took someone else validating that for me to take action. I'm very grateful to the other O5 in giving me the impetus, or maybe the tacit permission, to address it with the group, and maybe make the most of my first real opportunity to be a leader for them.
2. Figure out how to make my vulnerabilities into my strengths. I used how I felt about what the instructor said about women as an example. "I was offended." I described why I was offended and how it made me feel. And then I followed up with what I was going to do about it as the teaching point. I'm still getting used to the possibilities of making my vulnerabilities my strengths, and this was a fantastic example of what it might look like. I definitely felt vulnerable up there, talking to E3s and E4s, and all those other people who are going to work for me, about my soft underbelly...my fears about my own inadequacies and how they manifest and undermine me. But I also think it made it relate-able, made it personal for everyone, so they could be ok with feeling uncomfortable with whatever they may come up against. Or, at least that's what I was aiming for.
Afterwards, I got a hugely welcome and supportive text from one of the COs: "Thank you for giving the follow up talk after the training. That was very necessary and clarified some of the things I wanted to make sure the crew understood...It was just what we all needed."
Yes. That's what it's all about.
Sunday, January 21, 2018
Orders, v. 2018
It's been a while. Too long a while. I certainly haven't done what I said I was going to do a year ago, which was blog about taking advantage of being in a staff job to focus on my personal growth. That's not to say I haven't focused on my personal growth...I just haven't written about it here. So here's a quick recap of the last year:
I chose to quit roller derby right after skating in my first bout. It hurt too much physically. The bout was like being in a washing machine with baseball bats. Between that, the falling and absolutely *dreading* practice, I decided I valued the integrity of my bones, and made the really tough choice to quit. It also gave me a huge amount of time back.
Which I used to visit my (new to me) house in western NC. I took my motorcycle down in the summer and proceeded to bomb around the mountains on my bike and have So. Much. Fun. I had to remind myself it was all perfectly legal. Trips down that way also let me hang out with some of my bestest friends more than I was used to. It was an amazing reminder that I am more than my Coast Guard career.
I dated dedicatedly for a few months, until I had to deal with some of the consequences of my lack of willingness to compromise myself for the sake of someone else's happiness or ego. I've been on a break pretty much since then, and am so grateful for all I've learned about myself from that whole experience.
I'm still very much struggling with the topic from my last post about gender issues? equity? parity? I don't even know what to call it. I just know I'm still genuinely annoyed that there are still only 15 women who have had commands of major cutters. AY 2018 didn't do anything to change that number. More to follow on that, I promise.
And now for AY 2018...I GOT ORDERS!! I will have spent one year and eight months at Headquarters this time, when I leave at the end of April to go be Deputy Commodore of Patrol Forces Southwest Asia in Manama, Bahrain. Since I don't ask for what I don't want on my e-resume, yes, I asked for it. Of course, I asked for CO of a few different 210s first, but I knew that was a total long shot, being two years from tour complete and all. But yes, I want to go to Bahrain, for lots of different reasons.
First and most definitely foremost is that I get to hang out with and lead mostly cuttermen. The shoreside job is to man, train, and equip the six patrol boats that work for the Navy there. I very briefly met the prospective COs and XOs last week, and they look like a good bunch. I'm very excited to work with them. And hopefully lead and train them well.
Second, I will be tour complete in one year (instead of two years, if I had stayed in HQ). That means I have to be transferred, instead of hoping they may need another warm body beyond who they already have who is tour complete. There is a delightful selection of O5 afloat commands open for me in AY 2019...I may already have my list prioritized. In color coded spreadsheet form.
Third...well, the tangible benefits of going over there can't be ignored. I have a goal to save $50k while I'm there. Totally doable.
That was enough for me to say absolutely yes when the detailer called just before Thanksgiving to see if I was still interested.
And tonight, I'm sitting in the guest housing for Pre-Deployment Training (PDT) waiting for training to start in the morning. I was here, in Moyock, NC nine years ago when lots of the training was contracted to the old Blackwater Corp. We're on the same facility, under different ownership, I think. I'm fighting a slight sense of deja vu, but am such a different person now than I was nine years ago that it's like seeing it through whole new eyes.
I started this blog when I went to Bahrain the first time, mostly to keep my family up to date with what I was doing without having to send them all the same email. I blogged anonymously (which was allowed within policy at that point), because I wasn't sure about my ability to stay on the right side of operational security. Anonymity was tough in some ways (like trying to describe a mooring evolution without giving away I was on a ship...), but it was a good forum for venting about leadership challenges in my first command tour, both up and down the chain. I took down all those posts when I went public, but I saved them all. I need to find that harddrive and re-read some of them :)
So I'm going to try it again this time. I'm nervous about it, not sure I can be as honest and vulnerable as I want to be in a fairly visible leadership position. But there are things I want to say and explore. Like, seriously, the damn woman thing, but also my approach to what will likely be my second-to-last and last tours before retirement, my potential for financial independence upon retirement, living in another country for a year, staying true to myself in a grinder of a job instead of just putting nose to grindstone and forgetting about what *I* need to be happy, and all kinds of other things that I haven't put quite as fine a point on.
I don't know how much time I'll have to write during training (I have plans most weekends). But I have a goal to write a post a week once I get there. Keep me honest.
I chose to quit roller derby right after skating in my first bout. It hurt too much physically. The bout was like being in a washing machine with baseball bats. Between that, the falling and absolutely *dreading* practice, I decided I valued the integrity of my bones, and made the really tough choice to quit. It also gave me a huge amount of time back.
Which I used to visit my (new to me) house in western NC. I took my motorcycle down in the summer and proceeded to bomb around the mountains on my bike and have So. Much. Fun. I had to remind myself it was all perfectly legal. Trips down that way also let me hang out with some of my bestest friends more than I was used to. It was an amazing reminder that I am more than my Coast Guard career.
I dated dedicatedly for a few months, until I had to deal with some of the consequences of my lack of willingness to compromise myself for the sake of someone else's happiness or ego. I've been on a break pretty much since then, and am so grateful for all I've learned about myself from that whole experience.
I'm still very much struggling with the topic from my last post about gender issues? equity? parity? I don't even know what to call it. I just know I'm still genuinely annoyed that there are still only 15 women who have had commands of major cutters. AY 2018 didn't do anything to change that number. More to follow on that, I promise.
And now for AY 2018...I GOT ORDERS!! I will have spent one year and eight months at Headquarters this time, when I leave at the end of April to go be Deputy Commodore of Patrol Forces Southwest Asia in Manama, Bahrain. Since I don't ask for what I don't want on my e-resume, yes, I asked for it. Of course, I asked for CO of a few different 210s first, but I knew that was a total long shot, being two years from tour complete and all. But yes, I want to go to Bahrain, for lots of different reasons.
First and most definitely foremost is that I get to hang out with and lead mostly cuttermen. The shoreside job is to man, train, and equip the six patrol boats that work for the Navy there. I very briefly met the prospective COs and XOs last week, and they look like a good bunch. I'm very excited to work with them. And hopefully lead and train them well.
Second, I will be tour complete in one year (instead of two years, if I had stayed in HQ). That means I have to be transferred, instead of hoping they may need another warm body beyond who they already have who is tour complete. There is a delightful selection of O5 afloat commands open for me in AY 2019...I may already have my list prioritized. In color coded spreadsheet form.
Third...well, the tangible benefits of going over there can't be ignored. I have a goal to save $50k while I'm there. Totally doable.
That was enough for me to say absolutely yes when the detailer called just before Thanksgiving to see if I was still interested.
And tonight, I'm sitting in the guest housing for Pre-Deployment Training (PDT) waiting for training to start in the morning. I was here, in Moyock, NC nine years ago when lots of the training was contracted to the old Blackwater Corp. We're on the same facility, under different ownership, I think. I'm fighting a slight sense of deja vu, but am such a different person now than I was nine years ago that it's like seeing it through whole new eyes.
I started this blog when I went to Bahrain the first time, mostly to keep my family up to date with what I was doing without having to send them all the same email. I blogged anonymously (which was allowed within policy at that point), because I wasn't sure about my ability to stay on the right side of operational security. Anonymity was tough in some ways (like trying to describe a mooring evolution without giving away I was on a ship...), but it was a good forum for venting about leadership challenges in my first command tour, both up and down the chain. I took down all those posts when I went public, but I saved them all. I need to find that harddrive and re-read some of them :)
So I'm going to try it again this time. I'm nervous about it, not sure I can be as honest and vulnerable as I want to be in a fairly visible leadership position. But there are things I want to say and explore. Like, seriously, the damn woman thing, but also my approach to what will likely be my second-to-last and last tours before retirement, my potential for financial independence upon retirement, living in another country for a year, staying true to myself in a grinder of a job instead of just putting nose to grindstone and forgetting about what *I* need to be happy, and all kinds of other things that I haven't put quite as fine a point on.
I don't know how much time I'll have to write during training (I have plans most weekends). But I have a goal to write a post a week once I get there. Keep me honest.
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