The saying that “Life comes full circle” was my unexpected reality yesterday. I have spent time the last few days looking for a couple documents I put up “for safe keeping.”  I hate it when I store or file something so securely that I can’t find it when I need it.  Well, this morning while on yet another search for the documents, I found my very first journal.  My first journal was a small, sky blue, square book with a hard cover and a plastic overlay.  Like most who maintained a diary, my mission was to keep my thoughts secret.  Clearly, my privacy standard must have been much lower then than it is now.  A heavy ribbon stretched from the back cover to the front cover where it attached to a gold-colored locking system with a prominent keyhole.  Looking at the journal made me chuckle because the ribbon had been cut seemingly with ease to permit the details of my childish writings to be read.  I chuckled because my Big Mama used to say that “locks were made for honest people.”  I guess she was right.

As I skimmed through the pages, I reminisced about some fun times I had forgotten.  In this relaxed moment some old memories entered into my space.  Some of the memories were those that have generally been met with restrictions and filters.  Over the years, I have practiced controlling what thoughts and memories that I allow to enter the doorway to my head and heart when those memories have historically generated a plethora of emotional responses.  It think my mother saw me protecting myself from certain things and came up with a plan to help me.

I established boundaries and filters at the doorway to my space for years because I knew that everything did not deserve occupancy in my head and my heart.  Over the years, I learned that some of my childhood experiences not only helped to define my family’s story, but impacted my personal development and influenced aspects of my life since that time.  Child psychologists and family counselors were not offered to families in my community dealing with loved ones  diagnosed with a mental illness.  Thankfully, it didn’t take a medical professional for my mother to know that the current state of our family unit created havoc in the world of the youngest member of the family when mental illness found my sister.  In December 1977, my mother encouraged me to write about the things that occupied my eleven-year old head.  She said, “Even if you can’t talk about it, you should write about it.”  Mama’s heartfelt, insightful directive encouraged me to find a safe place to speak.  She empowered me to convert my inside voice into the outside voice that over time brought clarity and perspective to my life.  The feelings experienced by the eleven-year old me revisited me for years after December 1977.  The feelings followed me into my teenage years and young adult life.

Clarity and perspective were not gifted to me.  I think we earn them both as we master challenges in our lives.  Mental illness taught me that Granddaddy Cooper was right when he said, “Baby, everything ain’t for you to understand.”  I learned through dealing with the uncertainties of my sister’s mental illness that even if I don’t completely understand the situation I can be useful in finding resources to help bring calm and direction to the unstable and directionless.  Moreover, I learned contentment with the realization that every crisis or challenge would not be solved by me nor was it my responsibility to solve every problem confronting those around me.

Reading entries in my first journal enabled me to hear my eleven-year old voice say that there were times when chaos was my normal.  I am pretty sure that my family never wanted me to feel l that way, but I did.  In fact, the feelings that existed in the midst of the chaos like fear, confusion, and insecurity hung out with me like playground friends throughout my childhood.  I had no idea that the introduction to chaos in my youth would prepare me to persist, persevere, and figure out how to remain hopeful in chaotic situations for the rest of my life.  Another consequence of surviving the chaos was finding a passion for helping others similarly situated.  Additionally, I found a niche for supporting others as they learn to strategize and develop life skills to manage their own chaos. Learning to use my voice and accepting my limitations proved empowering for me and for those around me (even when they preferred to be passive bystanders in their own problem solving journeys).

My purpose became using lessons from my childhood chaos to quiet the storms of others living in crisis and chaos.  I hope that each person in my audience will be inspired to identify a chaotic moment then analyze that moment to find a positive lesson that can be paid forward.  The lessons received from my moments of challenge also brought awareness of my areas of giftedness.  In retrospect, the years of managing chaos provided opportunities to practicing using my gifts which gave me confidence as a leader of a staff of people tasked with supporting people in moments of chaos all day every day.  I hope that my audience members will evaluate at least one moment of challenge that has haunted them for years and work to change the perspective of that experience such that it empowers them to live a more spirited, passionate life.  It’s crazy how chaos at one point in our lives that brings unexplainable fear, confusion, and insecurity can prepare us for blessings and leadership in places we couldn’t imagine at that time.

I made a decision a few weeks ago to take self-care to another level.  For the last year or so, self-care meant a trip to the nail salon or the beauty shop or some mindless watching of a movie or other show.  For at least two years, one of my staff members has invited and encouraged me to visit the gym she owns with her husband.  She was definitely one of the coolest people I know and their gym was only ten minutes from my house.  Why didn’t I say yes to that invitation years ago?

My normal dictated only random exercise and binges of healthy and clean eating.  My normal dictated a draw toward starchy comfort foods complete with a side of fries or chips.  I enjoyed healthy snacks, but not always in moderation or at an optimal time of day when I was most active.  My normal also welcomed spending my time working, organizing, and supporting others in a manner indicative of a true shadow dweller.  Once again I found myself at a crossroad needing to make some decisions about the balance of self-care and the demands of work and family.  Changing the course of my normal has been tough because some things in my life remain constant.  I have felt like a living laboratory experiment weighing whether or not I have correctly defiined the constants and the variables.

My constants had become:

• Work long hours.
• Sleep fewer hours.
• Eat snacks to stay awake in the evenings so that I could convince myself that I took time to recover from the work day.
• Skip dinner when nobody else was home to eat with me. (Well, I didn’t really skip. I snacked my way through the evening.)
• Let my activity tracker on my arm become simply a colorful bracelet.
• Wishing the clothes that fit fit differently.
• Wishing the clothes in the closet I liked just fit.
• Avoiding purposeful actions to promote a shift in my attitude and actions to guide me to choose a new set of constants.

My mental process took me into a few conversations with students, friends, colleagues.  All of these conversations contained constants that I used to outline this new experimental phase of my journey.  I realized that all of the things I knew would bring order and stability to my life were my variables and not my constants.  Two specific conversations with students entered my mental laboratory.  The first student came to my office to share a story of dysfunction and frustration and I told the student that the following considerations needed to be a part of daily practices and decision making:

1. There are 24 hours in a day.
2. “No” or “no, not at this time are appropriate responses.” And
3. Schedule time for yourself.

I wrote these three things on a white board in my office so that I wouldn’t forget them myself.  I learned that remembering does not equal doing.  The second student came to my office and my plan was to offer the student encouragement and support.  Instead, the student encouraged me.  The student said that I needed to try a mindfulness practice.  I was even given an app for my phone.  I laughed because I often advise students to let the smart phones be smart to make their lives more manageable and there I was learning that it was time for me to do the same.

Finally, the wisdom of supportive colleagues was hurled at me in a layered attack.  Apparently, it took a series of events to get the attention of one satisfied with her normalcy.  Just saying that I was satisfied with normalcy aggravates the high achiever in me.  My big boss (as I call her) at our most recent division meeting had a staff member present on issues related to living a more active life.  Then, a host of other colleagues either in my department or who collaborate with my department made themselves responsible for establishing a village for me.  Saying that out loud makes my eye moist because I know that they care about me enough to help me set healthier boundaries, develop attainable, realistic goals, and search for alternative, reliable means to accomplish work-related goals and tasks.

A friend once said to me that I had to learn to be comfortable in a job in which I would never be caught up and I would never be ahead.  When she said that to me I chuckled because I could see how her comments were valid, but I had not lived the experience yet.  I had no context for understanding her comments at the time.  It has been almost a year and a half since she shared her wisdom with me and since that time I have learned that maybe I wasn’t so “comfortable” never being caught up and never being ahead so I dedicated many hours to my office to stay “caught up.”  In addition, I labored over some of the issues of office management at random moments when I was away from the office and at times when I should have been sleeping.

I hope that my introspective look at my efforts to redefine self-care will help someone live smarter and healthier.  I hope that my challenges will encourage someone else to accept the prompting and support of a willing village and reconsider the constants and variables weighed on a daily basis.

The last two weeks I have written about leadership because the last few weeks challenged me as a leader at work and at home.  Because of my leadership role on a college campus, I have been connected to many students with challenges.  Often the college-age children come to my office complete with concerned family members and friends who voice opinions intended to offer support and advice to the students.  In speaking to concerned family members, I have said, “We often learn our most important life lessons in the midst of our greatest challenges.”  However, the experiences I referenced above led me to a new discovery: Some really important life lessons and practices can be learned when I help other folks work through their challenges.

I recognize that my new revelation might not have been new to anyone else, but this discovery was exciting for me. I hope it is also exciting for other people like me who learn to be content living in the shadows of other people and causes.  My life in the shadows generally focused on the challenge, the crisis, or the need that required my attention.  Rarely did I think about how the experience would benefit me.  I found satisfaction simply because I was engaged in the process.  I loved feeling empowered when my decisions dictated change or when I could implement strategies to solve problems.  Focusing on people in challenging situations meant that I often neglected myself.  As a shadow dweller, I considered my feelings distractions and my time a gift to the cause.  Recent encounters with students and members of my staff have prompted me to reevaluate my support roles from a different vantage point – my own.

I have two large white boards in my office filled with lists, schedules, visions, “student insights,” and random things that people ask me that have nothing to do with my job.  I have explained to people that the whiteboards reveal many of the things that go through my mind on a daily basis.  The thoughts on the whiteboards are categorized by topic and each subject receives a designated section on one of the whiteboards.  Until now, I had never really evaluated why I needed so many of my ideas written on the boards and why I used so many colors.  Initially, these boards were just task boards solely used to keep the premenopausal supervisor from forgetting things.  After I started an introspective evaluation of the boards, the whiteboards manifested a deeper expression.  Color represented life to me and life represented creativity, possibility, and hope.  My current leadership role requires me to speak boldly and frequently about living life with thoughts centered on possibility and hope.  Standing in darkened places as a shadow dweller taught me the practice of investing myself emotionally, physically, and intellectually to the person providing me shade.  Whether life in the shadows meant that I was lending support to a really cool experience or speaking calm into a chaotic situation, I found the years of rehearsal beneficial in creating an environment that welcomes a troubled or needy spirit.

Over the years, I have learned that everyone was not made to support other people through tough situations.  Some people are so easily excited that they just make stressful situations more stressful while other people spend all of their time judging the person in the crisis for being in the midst of a crisis.  Moreover, I have learned that even if everyone was equipped to help other folks they would not help because choosing to help means sacrifice of time and resources.  These lessons learned about other people led me to an appreciation of my own role and purpose.  I began to cherish the fact that I have a gift that can quiet emotional storms.  Moreover, I began to appreciate my most recent opportunities to offer support to students and other faculty members because those encounters showed me how much I care about the issues that people bring to my space.  I realized that in bringing them to my space there is always a connection with the possibilities and hope on the whiteboards.  As I sat in my office looking at the whiteboards, it became clear to me that writing my thoughts, visions, and plans on a whiteboard demonstrated a level of trust of others that I hadn’t always possessed in my shadow dwelling days.  I realized that I have worked hard to provide people who are in the shadows of some kind of situation  a space to trust someone.   Somehow those messages on the whiteboards prompt conversations, giggles, and questions that make a discussion about the challenge or concern easier to share with me.  This self analysis has made me dig deeper into my why to figure out the symmetry in my behaviors and methodology.  I figured out that I value the opportunity I have with each individual I encounter to enable and empower that person to get better on a personal level and to think about a bigger plan for the campus and the larger community when they leave our campus.  The work in the shadows has been exhausting the last few weeks and so has the work of trying to figure out why it mattered so much to me that I pushed so hard and got so tired.  When you figure out your why and your purpose I hope that you find that you are willing to give it all you got.  In sports people say, “Leave it all on the field of play.”  That statement applies to other arenas too and what I learned is that in providing a service or sharing a gift with others means you must schedule a time for yourself.  For me that means focusing on more than two forms of self care and diversifying my self care options.  Separation from the emotional and physical demands of supporting other people in the midst of challenges provides time for rest and recovery after investing so much of yourself in your work.  I decided that I help others figure out how to make themselves and their situations better by using the lessons from my shadow living experiences and a couple of weeks ago I decided that I needed to “practice what I preach” so to speak in my own life.

During my shadow living experiences, I developed a practice of listening with an ear and a heart for solving the most immediate problems.  Additionally, I learned the importance of addressing the underlying issues to prevent those issues from giving rise to a new problem or resulting in a recurrence of the same problem.  In looking for solutions to problems that exist in my department and on campus, the words on the walls of my office spoke to me about the need to use every encounter to not only improve the station of the person who comes to my office with a challenge, but to improve the station of my life too.  I don’t think anyone has ever described me as quiet so it would follow that even the things that I write have sound.  I have learned that the things I write can speak even when my mouth is closed and because I write in colors my words project life, possibility, and hope to all who read the words on my whiteboards.  I hope that my audience members will figure out why they do the things they do and how they can also receive a benefit in the midst of another person’s challenging situation.

When I was a child, my Big Mama said, “One day that child is gonna do something really special.”  I have spent all of my life trying to figure out when and if I was doing the “something really special” Big Mama spoke about during my childhood.  Was the something graduating from high school? Was it my college or law school graduation that she would deem “special?”  Did my life in the shadows caring for my family members or my children equate to doing “something really special?”  Now that I am many years removed from the moment she spoke promise and hope over my life, I realize her words had the power.  Her words encouraged me to let the idea of the “something really special” marinate in my spirit for years.  Big Mama’s spiritual eye saw things and situations often before those things occurred.  People (including me) often categorized her comments as prophetic messages.  So, the vision of “something really special” sat on me like a weight of responsibility to be special and great.  Additionally, her words kept me focused on the possibility that I had not yet achieved the “something really special” and the hope that I would accomplish that undefined thing or experience.  Big Mama was a genius!

We considered Big Mama the matriarch and leader of the family.  She was my dad’s mother who he called “Mother.”  She didn’t mix her words and her words came from a place rooted in compassion and concern even though they sometimes felt very critical and judgmental to me.  When I was a child, I thought Big Mama was the strictest, most rigid woman I knew.  In my young mind, I believed she preferred me to live in a church listening to gospel music, reading a bible, wearing only dresses with a hem line below my knees for my entire life.  With age came wisdom.  Today, I am thankful for her leadership and her style of leadership that kept me centered on a message of hope and promise absent of drama.  I learned important lessons about life and leadership from Big Mama that I used as a parent and mentor to young people.  Those lessons also proved helpful in my leadership roles outside of the home.

The first lesson learned was the importance of demonstrating ownership and concern for the group whether the group was my family, a youth group board, or the department at work.  Big Mama taught me to value the family because of the fact that we were a family.  She used to say, “You can’t pick your family.”  She was right about that and her truth that we became a family by no plan of our own forced us to stay on task trying to make the family work as best we could.  Likewise, as the leader of a group or department, the task of accomplishing the goals and missions of the group had to be realized using people I didn’t always select or know very well.  Her guidance wisely directed my focus on accepting the individuals in my work family as members then focusing on how each member might contribute to the goals and mission of the team.  Big Mama had no time for nonsense and as leaders I learned that not being clear, transparent, or responsible for the team permitted nonsense to have a voice on my team.  I learned not to focus on asking why someone worked with the team, but focus on the potential of each team member to contribute to the task of reaching the team mission and team goals.

Secondly, Big Mama taught me to value the individuals in the family.  Big Mama praised me for being smart and artistic.  She would ask me to help her with math problems and play songs on the piano when she visited.  The memory of me with a note pad teaching Big Mama addition and subtraction always made me smile (and it still does).  I knew that she could count money so I wondered why she needed a math tutor.  I never asked her the question because I enjoyed sitting with her and I loved the feeling I felt when I believed I was helping and teaching her something.  Her affirmation made me feel special and I embraced the idea of excelling academically.  Big Mama taught me the benefits of admitting a weakness when leading a group, then trusting a team member to teach me and strengthen me.  She taught me the reward of affirming the member of my team and encouraging the members to cultivate their particular skill sets.

Finally, Big Mama taught me that she was an excellent leader because she spoke boundless limits over her family members while establishing boundaries set to protect them on their journeys.  She used to say that “when your kids are young they on your lap and when they old they on your heart.”  Her statement further emphasized the continuum of concern she held for her family members.  I believed that she cared about me from my first memory of her until her death.  Because I believed that she saw me individually, I believed in the things she said to me and about my potential to do “something really special.”  Moreover, I respected her authority and the restrictions because I believed in her sincere concern for me and the hope she saw in me.

It is my hope that as a leader of my family and in other roles that my team members believe that I care about the team collectively and about the members individually.  Like Big Mama, I hope that I can encourage my team to focus on the fact that we are a team charged with a mission and purpose.  I hope that my leadership will keep the team stayed on the goals and the mission instead of asking why we ever became a team in the first place.  More than respecting me, I hope that my team will respect the mission and the goal to the extent that they choose to leave the nonsense outside of the workspace, whether it is the home or the office, put their pride aside, and do “something really special” for themselves and those in their spaces.

As much as I dreaded the super early biological alarm clocks of my kids when they were little, as an empty nester there are Saturday mornings that seem too quiet.  Life with young people is usually complete with noise so my normal is anything but quiet.  So, this morning as I fed Swaggy and heated water in the kettle for my pot of coffee, I needed some noise.  I turned on the television and found College Game Day and heard Desmond Howard say, “You have to tailor your system to the strengths of your players.”  He and the other commentators were having a discussion about a coaching staff at risk of being fired soon because of a stubborn attempt to successfully implement a system without the type of personnel that would make that system productive thereby successful.  Immediately, I began to think about how this phrase related to leadership on any level and in any field.  It made me wonder whether it was worse to be a leader too stubborn to adjust the plan based on the talents of the personnel pool or the leader who doesn’t understand the goals and objectives of the team well enough to recognize that adjustments are needed for success.

Success for me has never been defined by economic benefit alone.  I have always measured success through an evaluation of the human factors and the ability of the team to meet basic necessities of the group and those served by the group.  In the past, I have watched people in leadership struggle in their work environments with making sensible decisions that require them to trash their perfect scripts and draft a plan that makes sense for the situation.  I have silently watched this phenomenon while wondering if the regimented leader with the “perfect script” was so full of pride that it was not possible to accept the fact that there might be a better alternative or whether the leader knew very little about the subject matter and just didn’t recognize the need for a change.  Both possibilities, unfortunately, yielded the same result for me.  When the leader has the team rely on decisions rooted in pride or ignorance, I have seen staffs lose faith, hope, and trust in the system and lose respect and trust in the leader.  Talking about being a great team never made people believe they were a team and talking about being a great team never made a team be great.  If that were so, my band of exercise challenged friends and I could have been members of any championship team we selected.  I have seen people talk a good talk while presenting a plan of action that lacked a realistic and thoughtful consideration of the skill sets of all of the personnel available to the team.  My thoughts made me go from ones focused on pride and ignorance to wondering if I was in the presence of an animated character from a magical world pretending to be a supervisor or team leader.

Those types of experiences taught me the following lessons:

• The team must believe that the plan is realistic.
• The team must also believe that the plan can get them to the “greatness” goal.
• The team must believe that the leader actually understands the details enough to demonstrate how the team members will contribute their unique abilities to reach the desired outcome.
• The team must believe that you have the willingness and ability to guide them and support them through the challenges that will arise on the way to that outcome.

I learned during my stay-at-home mom days that many folks did not make good leaders or team members for teenagers and young adults for many of those reasons.  Around age eleven, children form strong opinions about things that impact their lives.  During those prepubescent years, I saw the brightness in the eyes of children dim as they realized grown ups were flawed and pretentious.  I also learned that the movement of children from a belief that their adult villagers “hung the moon” to the reality of imperfection shocked children and made adults seek refuge behind punishments, gifts of electronics, escapes to work, and flowery empty statements about euphoric life experiences.  This leadership model severed relationships between children and adults.  Learning of the flaws and incompetence of a team leader can minimize the productivity teams in other fields too.

My time as a stay-at-home mom actually prepared me for leadership more than any class I ever took or job I ever worked outside of the home.

• I learned the value of listening.
• I learned the importance of admitting my mistakes and owning them in the presence of those impacted by my errors or shortcomings.
• I learned that my children respected that I could admit that I was scarred and imperfect.
• I learned that my admissions of my failures, my imperfections, and my ignorance about things made my children trust me. They felt safe letting me help them through their challenges.
• I learned to ask the kids questions then hear and see the world from their vantage point.
• I learned that the children will trust those who put in the hard work of sacrificing their time and energy when the children need them most.
• I learned that a chatty, noisy car of kids was better than a quiet group any day.
• I learned that my thoughts about children and my beliefs about systems, practices, and people changed because of the young team members in my village. The village kids made me better.

I hope that leaders will use my lessons as a mom to do what Desmond said: “Tailor your system to the strengths of your players.” Leadership is not limited to athletic teams or politics.  We can lead in any space if we choose to lead.  Leadership takes courage and a certain comfort level with the possibility of imperfection, failure, and isolation.

• Excellent leaders recognize they don’t know everything.
• Excellent leaders ask questions and invite the advice and expertise of those experienced in the areas where the leader has less knowledge.
• Excellent leaders surround themselves with advisors who have the courage to give an answer other than “yes” to every question.
• Excellent leaders give credit to the team members when credit is due.
• Excellent leaders do not waste the time of the team with personal agendas that work against the development of the team and the goals.
• Excellent leaders support personal growth of the team members then celebrates the accomplishments and growth of team members and that of the team as a unit.
• If you become an excellent leader, you will enjoy a thriving, chatty workplace and not an office filled with quiet, disgruntled people.