Lessons Learned

Lesson #1: Of Shame and Humility

This morning, while doing my daily devotionals, I realized that it's been exactly six months since I entered my unplanned retirement. You may have guessed that, for reasons no longer worthy of my rumination, I struggled with the transition a bit. And, in a bid to ensure I didn't overshare, I stopped writing, stopped socializing, stopped participating. I doubted my own sense of reality, I gaslit my own journey.?

But lately, I've begun to settle in a bit. So much so that a few weeks ago, I once again had the urge to write. I wanted to write about the lessons I've been learning.

As soon as the urge to write came, I was immediately beset with doubt and uncertainty. I certainly don't fit any self-help norms. I'm not a fan of conventional wisdom. In an increasingly galvanized world, I'm working out my salvation with fear and trembling. Plus, I'm rather angry at times. I'm kind of not "over it", and I'm mildly depressed on any given day.?

With this mix of emotions swirling in my head this morning, I prayed that God would let me know, somehow, if I'm supposed to start writing and sharing my thoughts again. Is my goal of helping people by sharing the lessons I've learned even realistic? And further, would anyone actually want or need to read the things I write?

And then, I'm not kidding you, literally three minutes later, I got a text from a former colleague with whom I have not spoken since I retired. It said, "Morning Wendy. Just a note to remind you of how awesome you are and that everyone you engage with today is fortunate to have you in their life. Don't forget to write and share."? I mean, holy mackerel!? There it was--a message from Larry...er...God.

Like I said, I've learned some lessons over the last six months. And God...er...Larry wants me to share them with you. So here goes--Lesson #1: I'm learning how to recognize, in moments of shame, the opportunity to practice humility. I'll try to explain.

I've struggled with shame since my earliest of memories. Growing up, I was ashamed of my height and weight. I was ashamed of my clothes sometimes--especially when I outgrew the length of my pants. I was ashamed of being a girl and still wanting the position and authority of a man. I was ashamed of being a Christian, and ashamed that I was not a very good Christian--possessing not even a modicum of desire to evangelize, to sacrifice, to give.

Later, I was ashamed that, as a result of my work ethic, it took me 8 1/2 years to get my BS degree, and I was ashamed that, with that barely-achieved entry point, I became the boss of people older, better educated, and smarter than me.?I was ashamed that I preferred work to family time and ashamed that I was an introvert with daily opportunities to speak and interact with the masses.

And in the end, I was ashamed that my operating career ended not with a gold watch or a successful IPO, but in innuendo and my inability to even defend my own reputation or actions.

A couple of months ago, unrelenting boredom and oblique sadness prompted some necessary introspection. Where was this sense of shame coming from? Why did I keep returning to it again and again, even when I didn't factually have anything to be ashamed of? And what could I do to overcome it and move forward?

The problem, I realized, was that I was deeply concerned about what other people thought of me. I wanted to be seen for my good points, my achievements, and my heart. I wanted to be seen--not as the sum of my physical characteristics and search results, but rather, as the culmination of my efforts and my intentions. And hey, after a 30-year career, I wanted to walk away knowing that it had been worth what I traded for it. I was looking for that sense of worth from the validation of other people. In addition to my kids and my family being proud of me, I wanted my peers to be proud of me, my industry to be proud of me. I wanted to be "CIO of the Year" in perpetuity.

One day around that same time, a dear friend asked me, "But do you take pride in your own work?? Are you proud of what you've done?"?

What a difficult question! My acculturation was a little bifurcated on that front. I was taught that one must be ambitious, but not arrogant. Being proud of myself always seemed a bit...over the top. I could be quietly satisfied. I might allow myself to gloat a bit if my plan proved superior. Unfortunately, the difficult answer to my friend's question is: "In the past, I only took pride in my own work if other people thought it was good."

With this recognition raw and fresh in my mind, I read a quote by C.S. Lewis. He said, "Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less."?

His words played over, and over again, in my mind. And I began to feel that maybe, instead of trying to stop feeling shame, I could turn that energy into humility. Perhaps, instead of thinking less of myself and beating myself up for each innate characteristic, each decision, each outcome, I could just begin to think of myself less often. Instead, I could think of others. Of the future. Of nature's beauty. Of business negotiations and technical opportunities and innovations. Of my family and my country and my health.

Like all good lessons, it takes practice to truly learn it. I have begun to volunteer more. To offer advice to strangers in grocery stores unbidden. To host teenagers baking in my kitchen and tell CEO's the truth about who they are and how they show up. I'm making sure that I notice those who are in moments of uncertainty and insecurity, and that, for them, I stand strong.

Right now, I'm learning the lesson of turning my shame into humility. And I'm writing this so that, just maybe, you can too.