Tara Rodden Robinson :: The Productivity Maven

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?

###

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.

###

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).

Getting Off the Rat’s Wheel

2012-01-27T20:22:49Z

I used to start my day at 6 am. Sometimes, if I was running late, I’d start at 6:30 am. I’d begin with email and then race from appointment to appointment. I’d collapse from exhaustion twelve or thirteen hours later. If there was an empty space on my calendar and someone asked for it, I’d always say ‘yes.’ I did everything “they” say you have to do to be successful: I blogged, tweeted, facebooked. When a potential strategic partner showed up, I’d roll out the red carpet, take on new projects and produce new content at a moments notice. I piled it on, formed a partnership, hired an employee, farmed out the bookkeeping. Yep, I was on the move, running faster and faster.

My ears started ringing and I couldn’t figure out why. I went to the doctor and had my hearing tested. While I was sitting there in the doctor’s office getting my results (which were fine, by the way), I burst into tears.

“I’m under a lot of stress,” I stammered.

“I understand,” replied.

I thought but did not say: No, you don’t.

Then the wheels came off. My dad got sick. My partnership foundered. My dad died. My business came within a hair’s breadth of going under.

Magically, at this same time, my ears stopped ringing.

###

In the silence that followed all the serial disasters, I looked back with grim determination. I’m not going back to the grind, I said, with teeth and fists clenched.

I woke up in the middle of the night and realized I was still clenched. I told myself to relax. A few minutes later, I was clenched again. It took months for me to stop clenching my body. Months.

I started cooking nice meals and inviting people over for dinner, something hadn’t done in… well, since grad school. I took long hikes. I went to yoga whenever I felt like it.

When the end of 2011 rolled around, and I started thinking about 2012, I did what I always do: I created a plan and a mindmap/visionboard. (See the screenshot on the left.)

Part of my inspiration came from Susan Falcone, who described her year-long experiment in self compassion on her blog. She writes, “I deserve to love myself. I do love myself. I’m happy to treat myself with respect and value. Doing what is good for me feels good. I can now feel as good for helping and caring for myself as I can for doing those things for someone else. I do not need the praise or validation of others to know that what I am doing is good and worthy. I trust my heart knows best when it comes to self-care and I honor it instead of rejecting it.”

Using her list as a guide, I created a list of my own (it’s part of this mindmap). Then, I asked Susan if she’d talk to me about her journey. And she did– listen here.
I began seriously practicing Completion Centric Planning and implemented my 40-hours -a-week-and-that’s-it right after the New Year.

###

A couple of days ago, in conversation with my friend Augusto, he told me how different I am now.

“You were running on the rat’s wheel,” he said and suddenly, I knew why my ears had started ringing, and why the ringing stopped– it must have been from the squeaking from the spinning wheel that was drowning out the sound of my life.

I can’t say I’ve totally learned my lesson. When I felt stressed this morning, about a project, I found myself thinking, “Well, I could work on it over the weekend. It wouldn’t kill me.” And then I caught myself. “Really, Tara, who cares? Besides you?”

Anybody want a rat’s wheel? I’ve got one I want to get rid of.

Really Vulnerable

2012-01-17T16:15:24Z

A friend asked, “Do you ever say ‘no’ to a prospective client?”

“Oh, yes,” I replied. “I’ve even fired clients.”

“Really?!?”

Once upon a time, an acquaintance approached me about being coaching on professional development. We’ll call this person by the wonderfully-androgenous-not-his/her-real-name, Pat.

At Pat’s very first coaching appointment, I noticed a verbal habit. Every story included the phrase, “…and the problem with that is….” After several repetitions, I brought this pattern to Pat’s attention.

“I notice that you say ‘and the problem with that is’ quite often. How might you relate the same story you just told and conclude with ‘and the best thing about that is…’ instead?

Unlike practically every person I’ve ever worked with, Pat became noticeably huffy at this suggestion. In fact, Pat appeared quite irritated.

“There is no best thing about that!” Pat huffed.

Really?!? I thought.

Pat went on, growing more and more defensive. I’d make a suggestion and Pat would dive in, “Why are you making suggestions when you don’t know what’s going on? That’s just bad coaching.”

Really?!? I thought, again.

The interminable damn coaching session went on and on like this. Every time I’d ask a coaching question, Pat would shoot me down, become more and more aggressive with the comebacks.

When it, thank god, finally ended, I sat back, shellshocked, and thought to myself, “What the hell have I gotten myself into?” And then I knew what I had to do.

I called Pat up and said, in my firmest, calmest coach’s voice. “We’re not a good fit. You don’t owe me anything and your future appointments are cancelled.”

Predictably, Pat hung up on me.

###

Sometimes, when I become aware of my tendencies–especially when I hear the phrases I habitually speak out loud–I want to react a lot like Pat did. There are times when I just don’t want to know myself that well. Mostly that’s because I’m ~~dismayed~~ disgusted by what I hear coming out of my own mouth.

I want to grab the words and stuff them back into my craw. An impossible feat but one I’d love to pull off, just once.

The reason I get so disgusted is that I feel like my true self is somehow being revealed. And the real me looks awfully yucky. Like wearing a bad bride’s maid dress in a really unflattering color under fluorescent lighting. Ick. No pictures, please.

This is part of being vulnerable, of course: looking like a horse’s patootie in a bad bride’s maid dress. And like that dress, it’s all in what you do with it after the event is over. No, I don’t mean give it to Goodwill. I mean taking a good long look at it and searching for it’s good side.

The last time I said something incredibly stupid (yes, out loud), I followed it up with, “What I really mean is…” and then went on to reveal the really real me, the one who was scared and overwhelmed and awkward.

Brene Brown, in her wonderfully wise book, The Gifts of Imperfection says that the root of the word courage actually means ‘To speak one’s mind by telling all one’s heart.’ She writes, “…we’ve lost touch with the idea that speaking honestly and openly about who we are, about what we’re feeling, and about our experiences (good and bad) is the definition of courage. … Ordinary courage is about putting our vulnerability on the line. In today’s world, that’s pretty extraordinary.”

###

I ran into Pat sometime ago at a business function. Naturally, we ended up in the buffet line together. It was impossible for me to pretend Pat wasn’t there and for Pat to pretend I wasn’t there. I looked for something nice to say and settled on the new eyeglass frames Pat was sporting.

“I love your new frames,” I enthused. “That’s such a gorgeous color!”

“Oh, thanks,” Pat replied. “But the problem with them is…” Pat’s face turned a rather funny color, a bit like the color of the frames. Pat’s mouth snapped shut.

Really!

A Dog’s Life

2012-01-07T16:42:07Z

I am a lot nicer to my dog than I am to myself. Take, for example, learning a new skill.

My puppy is learning to sleep in the laundry room. He’s graduating from his kennel, which will no longer be a part of mommy’s office decor. Yay! He is also learning three new commands: 1) “go to your room,” 2) “stay in your room, and 3) “come out!” Teaching him this new skill and these commands involve lots of encouragement, patience, and treats.

First, he is asked to go into the laundry room, “Go to your room!” I try to sound as enthusiastic as I do when I say, “Want to go for a walk?” The puppy goes into his room. He gets a treat.

I ask him to sit. He sits. He gets a treat.

I tell him, “Come out!” in my most happy dog training voice. He comes out. He gets a treat.

This goes on and on. Eventually, however, I say “Stay in your room!” and put up the new dog gate. He gets a treat. And lots of praise. “You’re such a good boy!” I enthuse. “What a good dog! What a good stay in your room!” Another treat. And then I leave.

A few minutes later, I return. More praise. I leave. This is repeated a few more times and then I let him out. “That was such a good stay in your room!”

###

This year, I have decided to learn some new working skills. I am learning to walk on the treadmill while typing and without making too many typos. I am learning to work only 40 hours a week (radical!). I am experimenting with Fixed Schedule Productivity and Completion Centric Planning.

When I make a typo and I’m walking, I often say a curse word. I never get treats. I never say, “Good walk! Good write! What a good typist you are!”

When I work longer hours than expected, I call myself terrible names.

When I slack off, I call myself terrible names.

There are no treats. No praise. No encouragement.

###

As I write this, my puppy is sleeping next to the treadmill. He’s such a sweet sociable dog. This is in part due to the fact that he’s always received lots of love and praise. He learned how to be a good dog. I taught him this.

What am I teaching myself when I treat me differently? I say things to myself that I would never say to anyone else, not even my dog, who doesn’t (as far as I know) speak English.

My dog and I both depend on the same person to help them learn new skills. So I am changing my methods with one of us.

“Good girl! Good type! Good write! Here, have a treat.”

A Christmas Blessing

2011-12-25T16:25:22Z

We give thanks for all those gathered here today and for this food we are about to enjoy.

We give thanks for all who made this meal possible: the ones who planted the seeds and tended the harvest, for bees and birds, for sun and rain.

We give thanks for those who are not present today; those from whom we are absent and those who are absent from us. We pray that our absent ones will be blessed with the knowledge that they are missed and loved.

We pray for those who are alone this day–for those who suffer from illness or addiction, for those who have no homes or families to welcome them, for those who must toil or keep watch over another. May they be blessed with comfort and love.

We pray that we will be blessed by the sharing of this food and that our time together helps us to grow in love and unity for one another and for all those with whom we share our world.

We ask all this in the name of Love.

Amen.

###

I wrote this as a blessing for our meal today. You may use it in any form, anywhere. If you publish this elsewhere, please share credit by linking back to this post. Thanks and Merry Christmas!