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Spitting Distances
When I relaunched by business in July I made a couple of promises to myself: no well-intentioned fakery (of the “sunshine up ass” variety) and to keep it real. Which is why I’m letting it be known that today my chips are down, and I’m in the mood to muse aloud.
As an army of uno, sometimes I like to muse about what would be different if I had a doubt buddy within spitting distance to whom I could kvetch.
It almost makes me nostalgic for my cubicle days. Although that’s just wishful thinking crossing wires, because in those days I had plenty of commensurately confused and doubtful people around me, but I most definitely DID NOT have a doubt buddy.
But oh it would have been lovely if I needed only to stand tippy-toe above a furry cube wall and say to my indefatigable doubt buddy, “hey, do you have a sec?” Of course, perfect doubt buddy always has a sec. They even offer to come around to my cube so my calf muscles don’t snap. They know not to fly immediately into problem solving or problem mitigating mode. They know how to grouse with, not against. And listen patiently while I whine about the shoddy state of my luck.
It’s a delight to dream. So, here’s what perfect doubt buddy would do when my chips were down and they just so totally got it. Their m.o. would be one if not all of the following…
1) Effortlessly rattle off five reasons I would triumph in the end.
2) Similarly, rattle off five qualities that make me special special, doubts and current depressiveness aside.
3) Remind me of my fan file, that gathering of blush-worthy testimonials and atta-girl notes I’ve received along the way.
4) Rattle off a quote that floors me. Or at least gives me a reason to hit the pause button and rethink my funk.
5) Agree that life is not treating me fairly, I deserve a break, and shake a fist at the heavens while demanding justice on my behalf. And then suggest we further commiserate over cocktails after work.
6) Agree with me that it’s our divine right to be upset when things don’t go our way.
7) Refill the pity party teapot so that I don’t have to grouse about the unfairness of life while parched.
8) Send me an intelligent, dark humored joke or clip or some such thingamajig that doesn’t involve meanness to squirrels* and has me laughing as I’m crying.
9) Doodle something brilliant and pithy and wry smile-inducing on a post-it note they tuck under my keyboard while I’m in the bathroom gathering my druthers and sneaking in one last sniffle.
10) Not resent me for unloading the contents of my brain in their lap (again) even though I’m always a day late remembering their birthday.
* For a while there was this awful video of a squirrel being catapulted from a bird feeder. Many found it funny. That’s not the sort of funny that would cheer me up. It would make me more upset on behalf of the squirrel.
That’s a tall order, but I tend to dream a hundred times my actual size as a matter of course.
I also understand that the doubt buddy of my dreams isn’t going to appear from the ether. Which is to say I’m resigned to this fact but not liking it. And willing to consider how I can take matters into my own two capable hands. To that end, here’s what I’ve noodled thus far:
1) Make it a point to compile a list of five reasons I’m going to triumph in the end. Do this today. Revise the list tomorrow, if that makes me happier, but don’t go to bed today without writing this list of five reasons.
2) Perhaps in tandem with this first list or save it for the next day, compile a list of five qualities that are my standouts. Doesn’t have to be “businessy” qualities. In fact, it’s better if they’re not. There’s a whole person to consider. Don’t go to bed tomorrow without this list.
3) Find 5-10 quotes that rather effortlessly compel me to stop dithering or winge-ing and reconsider my position. Don’t put on my pajamas the day after tomorrow without them.
4) Update my “fan file”, a place for all of the nice comments and encouraging emails and blushy testimonials I’ve received. External validation isn’t the whole enchilada, but neither is it bogus.
5) Do something with my hands rather than my brain. Draw squiggles on a napkin. Wash dishes. Water the plants. Don’t get sucked into Tweetdeck unless I’ve hand puttered first for 15-20 minutes first.
6) Let my funk be. It has a point and a purpose, too. Sorry to repeat what’s becoming one of those irritating buzz phrases, but it’s validity holds: we need to meet ourselves where we are. If I’m mopey, I’m mopey. Rather than circumvent it, try to understand it. Although, setting some boundaries around the funk is also key. (Hence list items 1-5.) Because mopes have been known to malinger….
At the end of the day, we have to be willing to be our own doubt buddy. I’m not going to add first or foremost after that sentence, because that’s the sort of thing I’m expected to say but not what I really think. Honestly, I’d really like for somebody else to fill that role, even if the real person kind enough to take it on could only meet my tall order by a quarter.
Still, sometimes it’s only us and the blog post that refuses to write itself, or the RFP that makes our brain smoke, or the cash flow situ that scares the bejeezus out of us, or the business plan that when attempted makes a mockery of business planning. Sometimes it’s just us and whatever it is that stokes our doubts. And it’s in times such as those, that we give our deflated selves a fighting chance for regaining buoyancy by being the doubt buddy we’ve wished for, looked for elsewhere.
What say you?