The curse of being "impressive"

All adjectives are subjective.

Some days ago, I met over Zoom with the selection committee for a management fellowship program I’ve applied for. There were four of us on the video call and I dutifully answered their questions about the very diverse professional experiences I’ve had, feeding on the expressions of approval I could read on their faces. One of the things I talked about was the importance I place on learning about the personal circumstances of the people I supervise. As a widowed single mother, I know well how much these can have a significant impact on goals and performance.

Our lives at home and at work are profoundly connected. There’s no such thing as leaving your problems behind in either of these spaces — and for a number of us these days, home and office are the same space. Understanding that dynamic creates opportunities to adjust, adapt and learn, for and from both sides. When engaged in this exercise, here are some of my guiding questions:

What are the strategies this person uses to navigate the challenges?

How can we work together to facilitate them?

Is there anything I can share about my own experiences that might offer a new path or solution?

What can they teach me about dealing with adversity?

The members of the selection committee paid close attention as I talked. They nodded empathetically. They took interest not only in my approach, but in my story. Then, one of them said, “I was going to ask about what you struggle with, but you’re so impressive. It seems like you have it all under control.”

If being “impressive” implies that I can handle whatever comes my way on my own, then I’m definitely not impressive. I actually don’t want to be impressive. I hurt, fall apart, cry, struggle with self-doubt and questions about what’s ahead. I crave connectedness. My daughter is more than halfway through freshman year in high school. Lately, I’ve found myself thinking a lot about what will happen to me when she goes to college. Will I be alone?

I’m fortunate to have a core group of friends who reach out when I disappear, which is something I tend to do when the stuff I carry inside becomes overwhelming. I’m grateful for them. I’m also grateful for you, dear subscriber, for making space for me in your Inbox, reading my words and writing back. (I reply to every message I get, in case you’ve never tried sending me one.)

Since friendships and connections should be a two-way road, I’m going to use this post as a reminder that I should reach out to a friend who has been a bit too quiet. I’m also going to remind myself that adjectives communicate the perception that others have of us, but that their definitions are subjective, so it’s OK for me to clarify their meaning. It’s OK for me to accept that if there’s anything truly impressive about me, it’s that I’m not afraid to embrace and openly talk about my vulnerabilities.

With love and purpose,

Fernanda.