Braids, Barns and Board Rooms

The Board Room emptied out. I sank back into my chair to process and capture thoughts before heading back to my office. Strategies, obstacles, history and future priorities were converging as we worked to align the next ten years. It had been a rough road and I was feeling the pressure to succeed. Staff turn over had taken it’s toll. My boss was less than pleased with how things were progressing. This role was complicated. I knew it was possible to find success but I needed fresh perspective and the confidence of my younger self to make it happen.

Growing up, I was hyper focused on solving the challenge right in front of me. I was great at solving puzzles, arranging steps to a replicable solution and I was fired up about proving every day that I was smarter, faster and stronger than the boys I was constantly being compared to.

When I would get frustrated with my inability to see a different way to solve whatever issue I had, I would growl at my incompetence. Then I would go find a place that looked different; mostly so I could fume, growl and be angry at myself without embarrassing myself. My siblings knew to steer clear if they saw me in this state.

My escape could take many forms; the top of a Douglas Fir tree was a favorite spot; the rafters of the barn or the top of the haystack were close seconds. You’d find me with my two braids, one behind each ear often filled with twigs, leaves or other rubbish, climbing, hanging or simply staring out over the hills. Time would pass and what I could see would shift and change. It was only then that I’d climb back down and return to my project ready to work.

I grew older and naively confident in my desire to conquer the world in the name of strong, independent women. Along the way I somehow lost my practice of gaining perspective with reckless abandon. In the Board Room that day, I needed my 10 year old self and the top of a tree but there was no way I was getting there. I bet if I tried to climb any tree like I used to, I’d get stuck and my husband would have to call the Fire Department to get me down.

The distance between me and what I was looking for was the unfettered curiosity I had as my 10 year old self. I couldn’t find her. The braids, the rafters of the barn, the branches of that tall Douglas Fir were so far back in my memory and blocked by years of digging in and getting it done, it was as if she never existed. I knew she was there somewhere and I need to go and look for her.

This isn’t one of those self-help articles where I tell you about fireside chats and ah-ha moments and learning to take myself on dates to rediscover my inner me. Nope, it wasn’t that magical. I simply gave myself permission to look at my situation with the innocence of a child, to ask any question that came into my mind even if I knew the answer. Little by little, I found my creativity, my righteous indignation and even the top of a haystack (it is easier to get down from than the tree).

Years passed with many more Board Meetings, plans, projects and the like. I did find the solutions I was seeking in the Board Room that day along with a lesson I am still learning. I don’t walk across rafters of the barn or climb trees but I do take time to gain perspective; sometimes, I even wear the braids.