Recently I found myself at an impasse. Yes, an impasse, also known as a mother-f’ing breaking point! I received an email from a coworker detailing their frustration at recent changes that were made for an upcoming event. This cohort of mine was livid. This person could not understand how the plan, I guess… their plan not mine could not go on as scheduled. I suppose the fact that I create and direct the event has no meaning. Whatever right? I digress. Anyways…
I looked at the email and immediately gave a “what bih?” eye roll followed by a few other savory cuss words that make my heart smile. Mmhmm, so there’s no confusion, cuss words are savory, rich tasting verbal treats that excite all my active senses. The heart-smile quickly transitioned into questions. Several questions: Who do you think you are? Why didn’t you speak to me in person instead of cc’ing the world and all the gods? What made you feel as if you had the right to address me with a domineering tone? Who gave you the green-light to be my boss? What made you confidently speak with confidence?
Not hurt. Shocked. Blinded. I couldn’t believe this person whose ineptitude I had covered for years had the gumption (gumption tickles my soul) to be upset. After rereading the turd-mail I let out a good:
“Haaan!” in my French Montana voice. Not really but I try to imitate it; in my mind it sounds like him. Back to the email sender. Person, your assisting skills for ALL of these events have been first class bull-kaka for ALL the years and I cleaned it up. I shined your shit/then added armor oil on it/Haaan (I secretly want to be a rapper, don’t judge me). Had your work sparkling like Cinderella’s slipper and Paul Wall grillz. And, AND, ANDDD, I allowed you to take credit for the clean-up in aisle 3!
Over here singing and scrubbing dirt with birds…
Who gave Snow White credit?
Ok, all right, what was I really mad at? An email? Weren’t my actions routine? Wasn’t I accustomed to allowing others to take credit? And consequently making space for the same credit-snatchers to believe I could be controlled or manipulated? Yes I was. But why did it bother me now?
All the times I covered for folks are all the times I was not growing in my own craft but consistently making someone else look good. Really, truly and seriously, the email was a gem dropped on my complacent lap. The gem said: Girl, get your weight up.*
So, so, so I learned: Protecting another’s ineptitudes only makes way for you to cover-up/hide your own. Yes, I’m good at what I do. But according to my personal standards, I am not great, yet. The theory I have: I covered for my coworker not out of humility but necessity, survival. I think, my subconscious decided on my ego’s behalf, if I don’t highlight the cohorts lack of efficiency no one would highlight mine. It’s deeper than rap people.
While I see nothing wrong with upgrading my coworker’s efforts, that same passion was not placed into my own ambitions. I was not refining my decisions, my work ethic, myself. I was submitting the first draft as if it were absolutely the final. I was behaving subpar. Not below outsiders. Below the sites I envisioned.
April lesson: Get your weight up girl and get on the level you desire. And maybe those around me will be inspired to do the same.
“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs, ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”
Howard Washington Thurman
I am alive and full.
*Weight up: increase your worth*