Dear Diary, We Are Boundaryless

I’ve received some positive feedback this week regarding how I’ve taken on the manager role. It’s really nice to hear, but I do have a secret. I am not doing anything too special. Here’s the secret thus far: I hold myself to an exceptionally high standard.

When I was a little girl, I split time between my paternal and maternal family. My paternal family owns a large farm, where I was able to play with the piggies, crash a four-wheeler into a drainage ditch hole, and make mudpies. I also was expected to be polite, obedient, and helpful. When I was 5, I would keep a semi in neutral rolling straight and slow as my dad filled it with corn—which is hard to do when there's so much to see from up on that throne. Because there was no little boy around, I didn’t know this was a special opportunity for a little girl like me. More hands were needed, and I was there.

From girlhood on, I’ve been socialized to think there’s nothing I can’t do if I can just toy with it for a little bit. When I grew up, I got a job. I didn’t really know how to do what I was asked, but I learned really quickly. Projects came up that piqued my curiosities—like how to make marketing or how to make a podcast. Without someone to do it, it just wasn’t going to happen. Later, I would explore sales and then recruiting, neither of which I had real experience in, except being a cashier when I was 15 and convincing my friend to work there, too. And it turns out, I’m really good at those jobs, too.

When I have a problem ahead of me, like how to reach the pedals when you’re only 3 feet tall or how to learn a totally new career and all its intricacies, I just do it. Over the years, because of my educational training, I’ve been asked to lead workshops on skills that I honed at Ball State. I’m a very shy, introverted woman, but I just did it. I volunteer for things. I speak up in meetings. I stir the pot when the pot needs stirred and norms need challenged. I have become very comfortable with the uncomfortable, and leaders see me doing it.

I ended up loving, loving, loving recruiting, just like my recruiter said I would. I threw myself into learning this new thing, was honest where I fell short, asked for training, and researched how to be really good on my own. I held myself to the exceptionally high standard I’ve held and been held to my entire life. Now, I hold a manager title, and in my research on how to be a good manager, I learned the biggest problem most leaders face is letting go and creating space for your team to shine—shifting the perspective from “look at me!” to “look at them!”

So, my two goals are: to support and guide. I support by leading with empathy. No one on my team is a cog in the machine. We’re working with humans here, and humans are messy. Humans have bad days, make mistakes, have children and parents and relationships that pull at their attention, have big goals, and all the other things that makes every day different. And through all that, I 100% expect and trust my team to exceptionally perform. My team has my support to take their kid to the dentist, flex their hours to make the bus to visit their sick parent, and to just be a human being.

My team also has all the resources they need to do an exceptional job, and when they need something, I get it for them. Whether that’s a decision, more training, an answer to a hard question, I am there 8-5, M-F to help guide my team. And, guess what happened with this perspective? They’re really killing it. They report feeling confident in their ability to fulfill their role, they’re meeting the expectations, and they’re asking for help when they feel they aren’t reaching goals. I’ve put them in the driver’s seat, put the semi in neutral, and said “go!” Why can’t you? What’s stopping you? Don’t you know, there’s nothing you can’t do?

My team sees me asking for help, trying new things, owning up to mistakes, asking for grace, being transparent, and being honest that your home life does influence your work life. And, I think that creates an atmosphere where it’s acceptable for them to do the same. My team is full of real people who are passionate about changing the world we live in for the population we serve, for their own children, and for the future we want to see.

A couple of weeks ago, I got married. My husband and I decided to pour the money we would spend on a venue into our home and get married in the backyard. We renovated our home almost entirely by ourselves. We planned our wedding almost entirely by ourselves. And, we eloped in the summer in hopes we’d be announcing a pregnancy about now, but we don’t have any good news. I don’t say this to garner sympathy. I say it to say, life is chaotic and messy, and we can’t possibly think that running on little sleep, feeling the energy of life-changing events, getting devastating news, or that time I accidentally took a sledgehammer to my own leg didn’t influence my work life. Of course it did, but of course I powered through. I dedicated myself to my home life and my work life, because I believe in the mission of both. No matter what’s on my plate, I do an exceptional job. No one ever told me there were other options.

I owe a lot to my grandpa who grew me on what ought to be done and not what’s easy. You ought to give what you get, and I get a lot from ACP. You ought to be accountable for things you say you’ll do, from your minimum job expectations to going above and beyond. You ought to treat people like people with complex lives, emotions, needs, and aspirations, and they ought to treat you the same way back. When everyone is on the same page in how we ought to treat each other and ought to work, really beautiful, exceptional things happen. So yes, I’m again saying I’m so wildly excited for 2024, but I ought to be with this team by my side. If you’re struggling or unsure of your next move, just take it. Don't you know your abilities have no boundaries?