Monday, January 30, 2012

Owning Our Strengths

By Marilyn Brant

So often, a sign of maturity is our ability to own up to our weaknesses. To learn to admit when we're playing at something that's out of our depth, so we can genuinely take the steps we need to improve and move forward.

But there's more than one way in which we can skitter at the edges of honesty and hide the truth from ourselves. The world won't be as quick to criticize or to call us out if we're downplaying a strength and, more than likely, we'll even get praise for our modesty. But, just as we should never be foolish enough to believe our own press or fail to see the publicity spinning wheel for what it is, we, likewise, shouldn't make a habit of internalizing our self-depricating statements, particularly when we know we don't mean them.

I think about this sometimes, especially when I'm actively trying to deny an ability I have. My high-school years were marked by two such assertions: (1) that I wasn't athletic and (2) that I wasn't a storyteller. In moments where I was quiet enough to listen to the inner voices and be honest about my actual gifts and flaws, I knew I was wrong to fight so hard against both of these. To keep claiming again and again that I was exactly who I said I was. Someone who hated gym. (Wasn't this proof enough of my lack of athleticism? Sure, I might love to dance, but didn't REAL athletes freakishly enjoy running laps and playing games like softball?) And someone who couldn't tell a story to save her life. (A TRUE storyteller would be able to express an anecdote aloud with ease, not just write it down, wouldn't she? And she wouldn't need to burn through half a dozen drafts to get the paper version just right either...)

So, I ignored any signs that might contradict these two arguments, even though there was a persistent side of me that suspected if I really challenged my denials -- point by point -- my claims wouldn't entirely hold up.

But I know now why I did it. Why, in many ways, I'm still denying these two areas to be strengths, despite having been a competent enough dancer to be chosen to tour Europe with a performing group one summer during college...or a decent enough storyteller to be multi-published in fiction. Because to own up to having some natural abilities -- to really embrace them as strengths -- would require my having to take full responsibility for developing them. If I tried but failed in some way (i.e., didn't get a place on the team or had a manuscript rejected), my ego couldn't soften the blow of defeat by blaming it on my lack of aptitude. But if I could insist that I had no gifts at all in these areas, then any small bit of progress I made was a triumph. I could pat myself on the back for overcoming great obstacles and doing something not remotely innate. I could convince myself that, of course, I'd have to work 3x harder than those natural athletes or storytellers. If I succeeded, then it was only as a result of my work ethic. But if I didn't succeed, well, I'd have a ready excuse to justify that failure, wouldn't I?

It's difficult for me to fight this tendency to immediately negate a gift just because I'm terrified of the personal/societal expectations of owning it. Better to think of myself as an overachiever than to suspect the reverse: That for too many years I may have actually been underachieving. That I possessed more strengths than it was comfortable for me to admit, and that I even squandered them at times because I wasn't willing to believe they existed. That my greatest weakness had nothing to do with either athletics or storytelling, but being too afraid to tell myself the truth about what I could really do well and what was genuinely out of my grasp.

In A RETURN TO LOVE, Marianne Williamson wrote something famous and beautiful on this subject, which even Nelson Mandela quoted her on. She said, “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? ... Your playing small does not serve the world."

Perhaps not every person who reads this will have experienced something similar. (I don't doubt I carry around more fears than most, LOL.) But I'm hoping there are some of you out there who'll immediately think of a gift of your own that you've struggled to openly claim. Maybe it's baking or painting or playing a killer game of Texas Hold 'Em. Having an aptitude for poetry, math, tennis or jewelry design. Possessing more musical talent or more computer knowledge than you ever use. Whatever it may be, telling yourself you don't have it -- when you do -- doesn't make it disappear. So take that first frightening step...whisper it aloud. Say, "Yes, this gift is mine...now, what am I going to do with it?"

Marilyn Brant writes contemporary women's fiction and romantic comedy. Her latest novel, A SUMMER IN EUROPE, came out from Kensington Books in December 2011. About the story, A Bookish Affair wrote, "Oh this book is like sitting in the sun in the middle of a Roman piazza while eating a big scoop of gelato. It's lovely and something to be savored... Sigh, this was so good; like a vacation in a book!" (Marilyn likes this quote a lot and hopes it's true. :)

32 comments:

  1. Beautiful post, Marilyn. I hear you.

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    1. Thanks, Julie. I'm so glad to know that ;).

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    2. Indeed a beautiful, I am looking for more of this.

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  2. Marilyn, I think you've just shared one of your greatest strengths with all of us: your ability to so honestly and beautifully communicate what so many of us feel at one time or another. While humility isn't a bad thing, you're right that we need to embrace those things we do well (and love doing) and give ourselves some credit for our accomplishments. Lovely post for a Tuesday in winter! Albeit a really warm winter day here in St. Louis!

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    1. Susan, thank you so much for saying that. I'm glad I'm not alone in this battle to remember what it I can (and love) doing. It's worth the time to remind ourselves... As for the day, it's going to hit almost 60 up here in Chicago!! I know, I know, you love winter and want more snow, but the summer-loving girl in me is elated, LOL!

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  3. Okay, maybe we were separated at birth. My toes are a little sore from being stepped on, but I'm printing this off and tacking it on my board next to your 'you are a writer' letter. Thanks, Soul Sis, I so needed to hear this!

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    1. Jill, you're such a sweetheart... You ARE a writer (and, clearly, a far more organized one than I am ;), and I'm so glad this resonated for you!

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  4. Great post, Marilyn. I think the line between being overly modest and falsely confident is one that many women, particularly, err to the side of caution on. And yet, as you point out, it's really a way of evading that heavy responsibility of being good enough. Whatever that is. Anyway, it made me think. You Go!

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    1. Thanks, Sheila! You're so right -- women, in particular, deal with this especially often. It's a tricky line, this whole learning to be honest with ourselves thing :). I'm glad to be able to talk about it here with so many wonderful people!

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  5. Love that you included the Marianne Williamson quote, because I was going to if you hadn't. Here's why I think we hide our light under a barrel, both to ourselves and other people: we're more interested in community than self-aggrandizement. We don't want anybody to feel badly by comparison! At 57, I am finally (mostly) over this reticence, and I credit age but also the game of golf, which I began to learn in my 40s. Golf helped me gain confidence, and the ability to say, "Yes, I do have ability." Right out loud! I wrote about it here: http://anyshinything.com/2010/11/07/learning-to-golf-at-age-42-changed-my-life/

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    1. Lynne, you make an excellent point. We really don't want anyone to feel badly by comparison, but sometimes it's not even about admitting who what we're good at to other people as much as it is really acknowledging who we are to ourselves. I love that you learned to play golf!! Congrats! It's a sport I've only tried a few times, and I'm not sure I'd have nearly as much success with it as you :).

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  6. Wow. Just wow. Marilyn, this is perfect . . . thank you, my dear. I certainly needed to hear this today. xx.

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    1. Judy, you are most welcome, my friend! Hope your day is a wonderful one. xox

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  7. Interesting post! I was in a group where everybody put on this faux humility and when my mother saw me do it, she put a stop to that - lol! So faux humility bugs me when I see it. But don't swing the other way, too. That seems to be what people are doing now. Just be honest.

    But you're right about ignoring gifts because of the price it might cost you. I come from a musical family and for one reason or another, put that behind me - as far as performing goes. Last year I got a new keyboard - have always played around on those but not seriously - and after a few rounds of it, I just stare at it, telling myself my energy is best used for writing. But I know I should play it - it's just hard to be a beginner again. And maybe that's where true humility comes in - the willingness to admit you're a beginner. Which, I think, is how you started this post. :)

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    1. Kathy, I loved you comments -- thank you! Yes, being a beginner in anything is difficult, like your experience with the keyboard. Or even trying to return to something we may have enjoyed once but are rusty at now. I've had that happen, too. Feeling that I *should* be better at something than I am now because I *used* to be...sigh. We never run out of challenges to conquer, do we?!

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  8. That quote by Williamson has always been a fav of mine. Great post, Marilyn and I agree with it all.

    I like to imagine my inner critic as a little whiny child.Not to be taken seriously.

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    1. Karin, I love your whiny-child-critic image! I have to think of that for myself sometimes... Treating my inner critic with the relative patience that I tried to treat my son when he was a tantruming toddler, but not taking most of his complaints seriously ;). Thank you.

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  9. Marilyn, what a great article and thank you for letting us inside just a little more, but hey girlfriend, don't you need some secrets :)
    Love
    deb

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    1. LOL, Deb!! I'm so glad you liked the post, and don't you worry...I still have PLENTY of secrets left...TOO many, my mother would say!! xox

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  10. So touching and so true--for all of us, I suspect. Thanks for sharing your gifts!

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    1. Christy, thank you for always being so supportive (!!) and for sharing your gifts, too ;).

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  11. Marilyn, thank you for this post. As Susan said too: "While humility isn't a bad thing, you're right that we need to embrace those things we do well (and love doing) and give ourselves some credit for our accomplishments."
    I have been riding my horse for about seven years now and constantly am dissing myself about how bad a rider I am. And at the same time, my trainer keeps telling me that I am way too hard on myself and am a better rider than I think I am.
    And over the last year of being in training all I've found out is that she's right - I CAN ride and am getting better over the weeks and months. I have to learn to embrace that and shout it to myself from the rooftop!

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    1. Patricia, I loved Susan's comment as well! And I'm so glad to hear that you're not only working at your riding, but you're giving yourself credit for all the time and effort you've put into it!! Good for you. Hope you keep at it, and thank you for sharing your thoughts with me!

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  12. Marilyn, inspiring, as usual! Thanks for the lovely post.

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  13. Marilyn, Wow!!!! And what timing. Yesterday I worked myself into such a funk of "Why did I think I could do this when I obviously don't have the talent." Okay, it's a gorgeous day in the DC area and I'm going to use your post and Mother Nature's prompt and shed that funk. I can do this. :-)

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    1. Orly, yes! You sure can do it!! I think most of us have those moments (or days or weeks...) when we lose confidence for awhile. It always makes me feel better to know I'm not the only one struggling with some form of fear. It helps keep it in perspective. Wishing you a wonderful, productive day!

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  14. Inspiring post, our weaknesses sometimes seem to be stronger but evrything depends only from ourselves.

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