Tara Rodden Robinson :: The Productivity Maven

I Didn’t Get Nominated and Why That’s a Reason to Celebrate

2012-04-06T15:17:37Z

You are cordially invited to my pity party.

I’m really disappointed. And I’m feeling quite sorry for myself. Let me explain.

Please don’t get too close though, I might drip snot on you as I cry and perhaps also throw a temper tantrum.

I joyfully signed up for a very big conference, a sort of summit, that will happen this summer in Portland. When the opportunity arose to pitch a breakout session, I was all over it. One of my friends told me that last year, overwhelm was rampant–attendees were hit by a huge wave of “how do I do all this?!?” So for my breakout, I proposed my Overwhelm/Overload Smackdown–my most popular workshop.

I thought, “I’ve got a real shot at this.”

A little voice, ever deeper down said, “No, you don’t. You better not get your hopes up.”

I told the little voice to shut up.

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Brene Brown writes, “For many years, if I really wanted something to happen–an invitation to speak at a special conference, a promotion, a radio interview–I pretended that it really didn’t matter that much.”

I hear you, sister.

My M.O. is to secretly pray like crazy please-please-please-please while outwardly not telling anybody that I’m even trying at all. Then, when I get the notification, I start chanting, “You didn’t get it. You’re not on this list. You didn’t get it.” Before I even open the email.

Ever since I read Brene Brown’s book, though, I’ve seen getting my hopes up and including people around me as an essential act.

“…I’ve learned that playing down the exciting stuff doesn’t take the pain away when it doesn’t happen. It does, however, minimize the joy when it does happen. It also creates a lot of isolation.”

So when I applied for the breakout session at the big summit (at which, by the way, Brene Brown will speak), I liberally got my hopes up. I encouraged my hopes, nurtured their tender little shoots, and let others see them grow.

###

When I got the link of the nominations for breakout sessions, I was genuinely excited. As I started scrolling down, I saw some well-known names. This was my first hint.

I thought, “They went for some big names.”

I kept scrolling. As I did, the deep down little voice began to chant, “I’m not on this list. I didn’t get it.”

And then I saw who did. A title very similar to mine. Her topic description was very much like mine. And she got two nominations on two different topics.

Ugh.

I sat back and little tears came to my eyes. I told myself that I should be happy for this person. But, of course, I’m not. I’m jealous. I’m hurt. I’m disappointed.

My dearly beloved said, “Maybe it’s the Universe’s way of telling you to write your book.”

My deep down little voice said, “Humpf. Maybe it’s the Universe’s way of telling you that you’re never going to make it. Just quit. Why go through more disappointment and hurt?”

But that’s not what Brene Brown might say. She writes, “Every time we choose courage, we make everyone around us a little better and the world a little braver. And our world could stand to be a little kinder and a little braver.”

I looked at the tender shoots of my hopefulness and discovered that while they were a little wilted, they were still alive. Rather than pull them up by the roots, I decided to see what they might turn into after they grow awhile.

I think that’s a reason to celebrate.

All the Time in the World

2012-03-25T17:14:27Z

It’s a weird sort of paradox: There’s this thing I want to have done. I have no desire to work on it. I’m not alone in this endless loop of “wanna-don’t-wanna.” I talk to people all the time who say the same thing.

“I want to complete all these projects,” they lament. “And I don’t want to work on any of them!”

Experts on procrastination have some theories about why folks like me delay the desirable and put off until who-knows-when what could get done today. “These people would rather be accused of lacking effort that lacking ability,” says Joseph Ferrari. Ferrari is a professor at DePaul University who studies procrastinators. He calls them by the warm little moniker: “procs.”

Quoted a recent NY Times article, Ferrari opines that procs are thinking some thing like, “…the idea is “If I never finish, I can never be judged.” And the fear of success can stop procs, too. “If I do well, you might expect more from me next time, and I don’t know if I can come through,” he quotes his imaginary procrastinator.

To Professor Ferrari, I say: bullshit.

When I’m in the wanna-don’t-wanna loop, I never find myself thinking about avoiding criticism or fearing increased expectations. I have Achiever as one of my StrengthsFinder themes, for goodness sake! I love it when people marvel at how much I can get done. (And for the record, the fastest way to piss me off is to call me lazy. ‘Lacking effort’ is fightin’ words in my book.)

Nope, when I’m procrastinating, what I find myself thinking is that I have all the time in the world. Nothing like the combined impact of a big “oh” birthday and losing a cherished same-age friend to nip that shit in the bud.

Let me back up. In September, my friend Elisabeth died. Quite suddenly. Elisabeth of the endless energy, dozens of projects, always on the go. Elisabeth who spoke four languages, all at the same breakneck speed. Elisabeth. Prominent, respected, productive. Gone.

Then in November, I reached the milestone birthday of the Big Five-Oh. A milestone Elisabeth would have celebrated on April 10th, just a few days from now. I’d planned that we’d have our own party together, just she and I, on some tropical beach.

Eli and I were always saying that we wanted to get together. But we were always too busy. There was always some other more important matter that took precedent. We both thought we had plenty of time. There’s always next year, we’d say.

Psychologists have a term for this kind of “next year” thinking. It’s called “resource slack.” Resource slack works like this: I have no spare time right now. But next year, I’ll have more spare time. “Yes,” we’d say, “that’s it! We’ll be able to plan far ahead and make it happen. We’ll start planning right now. Well maybe not right now. Maybe we’ll start planning six months in advance. That’s far enough ahead right?” But six months would come and go and then it would be June and we’d be saying “next year.”

There is no next year now. Not for Eli. Each delay looked so small, so insignificant. Added all together, those delays mean I’ll never see my beloved friend again, not in this lifetime.

A couple of days ago, Douglas asked me, “What do you want to accomplish in the next ten years?” I’ll be sixty in ten years. I hedged. I equivocated. I changed the subject.

What I really wanted to say was, “I want to have published my books.” Yes, books, with an ‘s.’ Well, I’ll work on my next book…soon… What are all those soons costing me? It’s like spending a couple of bucks for a latte every day and then suddenly realizing that I spent almost $1,100 over a year’s time. (Yep, check the math: $2.95 x 365 = $1,076.75. Oof!)

How will those delays add up in the who-knows-how-many years I have left? When I’m procrastinating, will I be thinking about having all the time in the world? Or will I think about Elisabeth and the tropical beach we would have sat on, savoring the rum we could have been drinking, marveling at the stars in the sky?

Imagine That: Your Fear Is Not Protecting You From Anything

2012-03-08T00:42:44Z

Here’s how this usually works for me.

I make a commitment. And I have all the best intentions. Always. When I say ‘yes,’ I think “Oh, what a joy this will be!” Or some such happy, warm, comforting, fuzzy thought. Sometimes, even deeper down, I’m thinking “And so-and-so (the person I just told yes) will like me.” Both of those statements, the joy and the liking seem oh-so-true in the happy yes-moment.

Later comes the damn-moment. As in “Damn, I said ‘yes to that?!? WTbleep was I thinking?” No joy. No warm comforting fuzzy. No liking. And that’s when I start thinking that so-and-so, the lovely kind soul to whom I was so generous will be angry with me.

My logic is: Said yes. Didn’t follow through yet. Haven’t heard from so-and-so. That means so-and-so is pissed off at me.

This is why I go into avoidance mode. I mean, who wouldn’t? It’s a rock and a hard place. Finish project while thinking about facing the imagined-angry person with the late but done commitment. Or…avoid said commitment like the plague so as to delay the moment of coming in contact with the imagined-angry person. Both of these flawed strategies of mine revolve around the same thing: fear.

My fear is not protecting me from anything.

In the above avoidance mode scenario, these both end the same way: angry so-and-so. If my assumption is correct–never mind that I’m often totally wrong about this–avoiding so-and-so will not make them less angry. If anything, it makes it worse. So my fear doesn’t protect me from their anger. Quite the opposite: it gives so-and-so a really good reason to get pissed by dragging the whole miserable thing out.

I revisited this yes-damn-fear-anger thing this week when I sat my rear-end down and reviewed all the Fixed Schedule Productivity materials posts written my friend, Cal Newport (he was a guest on the Virtual Study Group, so we’re pals now, right?). Of the four items that landed on the projects purge list, three were overdue commitments to imagined angry so-and-sos.

Reminding myself that my fear wasn’t protecting me from anything, I pounded through two of the three and sent them off. I tried not to grovel about how sorry I was (ok, I groveled a little maybe). And lo! I got nice emails back thanking me for what I’d done. And they sounded quite sincere–not put on nice-nice. LIke maybe nobody was made at me. Imagine that!

What about you? Does this kind of avoidance scenario sound familiar? What’s one project you could complete and face the music on right now? Get ‘er done–your fear is not protecting you from anything.

An Anniversary Gift for You!

2012-02-20T17:32:02Z

A year ago, I published my book, 40-Days Forward!

In celebration, I’m launching 40-Days Forward the eCourse and I’m giving away 100 copies of the new Smashwords version of 40-Days Forward. Hurray! You can get all the deets about what the course includes–for one thing, it’s free–and enroll right here. You’ll get a coupon to download your free copy of the ebook right away and your course materials will start arriving via email.

Yay! I hope you’ll enjoy your 40-Days Forward experience into a life of greater abundance, meaning, and joy.

And by the way, if you’re someone who observes the Lenten season, you’ll find 40-Days Forward is a lovely accompaniment to your process. Although the book isn’t written in explicitly spiritual terms, readers find that it’s a nice supplement to their own religious or spiritual journey. Enjoy! And may you be blessed with much joy during this holy season.

How I Achieved Relationship by Inputting Strategic Learning

2012-01-29T19:29:02Z

I love listening for people’s strengths. It’s such a joy to hear people talk about when they’re at their best. Whether it’s how someone connects with awe-inspiring art or nature (appreciation of beauty and excellence), the pleasure that a person gets through reading and personal growth (love of learning), the zippity glory of just being alive (zest), I get happy all over. As much as I love learning and exploring character strengths–how to apply mine, how to help other people explore and apply theirs–you’d think I’d just love the StrengthsFinder. But no.

Every time I look at the list of “themes of talent” and I see words like Achiever, Context, Input, and Woo, my teeth are on edge and my skin crawls. Pigeon holes. Jargon. What the *bleep* do they mean when they say someone has Futuristic? Does it mean they like science fiction? Are they into Nostradamus? Are they creative? Should I look for tarot cards and crystals at birthday time? Or is that for Woo? Ugh.

So I’ve avoided the StrengthsFinder like the plague. Until last week, when I finally broke down and took the damn thing.

Strategic
Achiever
Learner
Relator
Input

Great. I have “Input.” What the #$%%&@# does that mean?

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I want to be a team player. Really. I’m not being catty. That’s why I took the StrengthsFinder. Because Patrice asked me to. Patrice is my new boss.

Tara, did you just say what I think you said?

Yes, I have a boss. Because I have a job. I quietly joined the team at Cascade Employers at the first of the year.

I still own my own company. I still do what I do. Now I just do what I do for Cascade. Working for Cascade is a huge gift–I have actual coworkers. People with expertise in marketing, accounting, management, human relations, leadership, law, and lots of other cool stuff. There’s an actual team and they help me do stuff, like book speaking and training events, serve my clients, and reach lots more people than I could before.

One of the biggest gifts of working at Cascade is working with and for Patrice. She’s one of my champions–one of those people I identify as someone who really believes in me, way more sometimes (ok, maybe most of the time) than I believe in myself. So when Patrice asked me to take the StrengthsFinder, I choked down my distaste and took the test. Because I love her and quite frankly, I’d walk through fire for her if she asked me to.

Label that, StrengthsFinder! I dare you.

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Strategic: “…enables you to sort through the clutter and find the best route. It is not a skill that can be taught.” Show me point B. Just show me the map. Forget the map, just give me a compass. No road to that destination? No problem, I’ll get there. I’ll create the trail, the process, the technique, the method, the knowledge base. And once I see where it is I’m trying to get to, I act. Bam. Ready-fire-aim Girl!

Describes me to a T. Oh hell. The damn test nailed me. Perfectly. Strategic is my number one theme.

Achiever. I didn’t need to read the description on page 37 to know this one. But I read it anyway. “…describes a constant need for achievement.” Yep. See previous post. “By the end of the day, you must achieve something tangible in order to feel good about yourself.” Yep. Try going on vacation with me. I’ll hike, snorkel, walk, write, read, plan, think. I’ll do tons of stuff and come back as tired or tireder than I was before I left.

Crap. The damn test nailed me again.

Learner. I have a Ph.D. Nuff said.

Relator. “[you]…derive a great deal of pleasure and strength from being around your close friends.” Being with someone–hearing their joys, their sadnesses, their strengths, their stories–makes my heart sing. I talk to homeless people and strangers on airplanes because of this. I became a coach and before that, was a professor, and before that, was a nurse and because of my love of relationship. This is where vulnerability and intimacy happens. Oh yeah. That’s me.

Input. This word makes my skin crawl. What the hell do they mean by Input? “You are inquisitive.” Yes. “You collect things.” Uh-huh. Rocks. Shells. Religious iconography. Tin types. Feathers I find in the forest. Fall leaves. Information. Oh. My. God. I have Input. Boy-oh-boy, do I ever have Input. My mom still laughs when she talks about how I, at the age of two, started collecting shells. I went for quantity over quality. And every shell was greeted with “Shewls! Look Mama, shewls!”

Thank god I didn’t test positive for woo-woo.

OK. So I may never love the terminology. I may still diss their corporate sponsored, conflict of interest laced research and their proprietary assessment test. I may resist but I have been assimilated… and described with extreme accuracy by the StrengthsFinder. Oh well. It’s knowledge and I love learning (Learner), thrive on acquiring new information (Input), and derive joy from teaching (Relator). I get a kick out of writing blog posts on my day off (Achiever) and I felt inspired in the moment (Strategic).