Greetings From the One-Armed Adirondack Chair

Written By: Dr. Rich Houston, Director of the Culverhouse School of Accountancy

I had all sorts of deep and clever things written, but you’ll have to take my word for it. For the second week in a row, I chucked about 800 words. Does this reflect insecurity or effective editing? But enough about me. For class this week, we listened to this podcast by Adam Grant and Brene Brown about vulnerability. People wrote the most insightful things, which I hope you find as impactful as I did.

One student wrote: I pressured myself to have a 4.0 GPA and dreamed of wearing a red cap at graduation. I remember crying one day – toward the end of the fall semester of my senior year – because I thought I was going to fall short in a class. I was so scared even though I was the only one who put this pressure on myself; my family always reminded me that my grades did not define me. I ended up getting an A in the class and keeping my 4.0. But when I received my red cap, I remember feeling so underwhelmed and asking myself why this was such a big deal to me. The pressure, shame, and fear I had brought on myself for something so insignificant somehow made it seem so much more important than it actually was. The idea of me not reaching this goal caused me more anxiety than the anticipation of achieving it brought me joy.

Two observations: First, can you tell I love that last sentence. Second, it used to be that the source of pressure to be perfect more often than not was imposed by parents. Now, however, students striving for perfection almost always say that the pressure is self-imposed, and that their parents just want them to do their best. It’s heartbreaking to see what trying to be perfect does to you. Please consider whether it’s as important as you think it is as well as why it’s so important to you.

Here are some thoughts from someone who overcame the pursuit of perfection by realizing why he did it: In high school and early undergrad, I used popularity and partying as armor and then switched to being the “smart kid” seamlessly. This is no easy task, let me tell you, but I did it because I found more reward and affirmation from others by excelling academically and in my career. Slowly, I found myself in a constant cycle of proving, perfecting, and tirelessly performing to maintain that image. This performance-based defense mechanism seemingly kept me safe for so long until it turned against me. I am now trying to remove this armor and learn how to properly confront trauma and vulnerability, and it’s scary. But it feels amazing to allow myself room for failure – a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time. Giving myself permission to fail publicly and not just privately has encouraged a lot of growth. Being less afraid of failing has also led to some great conversations with friends – conversations that I would never have had five years ago.

Enjoy the non sequitur cartoon:

A student noted that, in the podcast, Adam Grant said, “I never realized that my way of coping was to be exceptionally good at whatever I did because I thought that this would make people respect me or look up to me or like me.” The student wrote: When I heard this, I immediately had a lightbulb go off in my head and thought “that is me.” I realized that the competitive nature that drives me to be my best reflects not so much the need to be really good at everything I do as to appear as if I always have everything under control. I have always wanted to be that person who always appears calm, cool, and collected and that people look at and say wow, he is just so good at everything he does. I couldn’t be a B or C student or bad at whatever sport I was doing, or anything other than a top tier worker or employee. I realize that I push for all those things for fear that, if I don’t excel at everything I do, I won’t be perceived as or actually be “good enough.” To maintain this image is a daunting and stressful task and, while I often enjoy it and am proud of myself for all that I have accomplished, sometimes I find myself questioning if I am doing it for the right reasons. I will have to start taking a different approach and realize that it is okay to not present that successful look all the time and see where that takes me.

A student determined to make a difference wrote: I believe that vulnerability is not a weakness, but rather is powerful and something many of us could use right now. We are getting to a point in the semester where the pressure is on and the stakes are high. Why is it so hard to talk to each other about it? The accounting program can be quite competitive, and I think that many of us are putting on a front to hide that we’re struggling as much as we are. I have found that whenever I vocalize my struggles, it helps people realize that they aren’t alone. When one person is vulnerable enough to voice their thoughts, something beautiful happens—we all start voicing our struggles. Consequently, we all feel better; however, this so seldom happens because we all tend to just keep everything to ourselves. I think that perfectionism is a huge factor that explains why we aren’t more vulnerable. With perfectionism comes shame and fear, which often keeps us from speaking up because we’re terrified of being judged or because we think we’re the only one feeling this way. My goal is to start speaking up more. Even if my actions make just one person feel better, that is enough to satisfy me.

Observation: Let me let you in on a secret that should not be a secret. You’re not competing against each other as much as you think. If everyone gets an A on an exam, then everyone gets an A. Everyone will get a job and, even if it’s not your dream employer or location, the outcome might be better than it would have been had you gotten what you thought you wanted. Literally or figuratively speaking, take some more time to lie on your back in the grass and contemplate life. But be cognizant of where the dogs have been.

If I remember to, I’ll explain the title next week.