December always feels like paradox. Most of the world seems to be winding down, and somehow things are speeding up at the same time. In the Northern hemisphere, there can be a longing for cozy evenings in front of the fireplace, comfort food, and warm blankets. In the Southern hemisphere, there is the longing for lazy days on the beach, or around the pool, barbeques, and Xmas parties.
Yet, I also hear from people that their inboxes are running over, they are drowning under urgent deadlines, and organisations are hurriedly trying to complete planning for the new year. There is an increased urgency to get things done, and completed, and a tension between desperately wanting rest, and feeling like you can’t rest yet.
With children in the mix too, the holiday season can feel anything but relaxing and restful. Often there is no childcare available, and you are scurrying to figure out how you will keep your children entertained or occupied. And somehow you have unknowingly also taken responsibility for ensuring that there is “holiday magic”? When did that get added to the list? And why is it even a requirement?
The core leadership challenge that no-one talks about, is not strategy, planning, or systems, but rather how to navigate the internal negotiation between your energy or capacity, and outside expectations.
And that is why today I want to talk about capacity.
Two weeks ago, I facilitated a workshop – or rather a deep conversation – about the true meaning of capacity and why it matters. I assume that if you have ever flown on a plane, you have heard the line, “Please secure your own oxygen mask first before assisting any other passengers.” I have been in many coaching and personal development rooms where the facilitators would preach about the importance of self-care by repeating this line. And yet, have you ever stopped to consider why?
Why is it imperative that you secure your own oxygen mask first before assisting any other passengers? Well, because without oxygen, you will collapse and you will be of no use to any of the other passengers. Their survival depends on yours. When we are resourced, we can serve. When we are not, we cannot.
We all get this when it’s an intellectual discussion about oxygen masks, and yet, in our day-to-day lives, we completely forget this logic, and I make up it’s because we don’t recognize oxygen when it comes in other forms.
As part of my research for my PhD, I did a deep dive into Protestant work ethic. Protestant work ethic views hard work and discipline as a moral duty to God, and the accumulation of wealth as an important aspect of that. Even though large parts of the world are becoming more secular, the conditioning around work ethic remains deeply imbedded in our systems, our culture, and our own minds.
According to Joanne Hunt, the strong work ethic embedded in our culture delivers a strong and direct message regarding capacity. The message is this: If you have it (capacity), you should give it (contribute), with the implicit understanding that an unwillingness to contribute equates to selfishness.
However, in many ways, capacity can be a double-edge sword. What if your duty isn’t aligned with your heart and soul anymore? I see this often with clients who have climbed the corporate ladder all the way to the top, only to realize that they no longer want to be in the career they spent years building. A mid-life crisis is exactly what occurs when we start to feel and acknowledge the tension between who I have been to myself and others up to now, and who I want to become now. It’s the realization that you have been driven by the desire to contribute, but that it has come from a place of moral obligation, and not from what is actually deeply calling to your heart and soul.
Joanne Hunt points out that some of us have received the gift of capacity – i.e., we are able to carry a lot on our shoulders, and we are driven by the desire to have an impact / make a difference / demonstrate our care through giving, so we continue to take on more. However, the desire to give and give and give, coupled with the capacity to move to effective action, take on new responsibilities, and execute flawlessly, can be a strong predictor of burnout down the road.
Often our bodies speak louder than any of our words or actions. And over-giving will show up in feelings of resentment, anger, depression, physical ailments, illness, or a broken spirit and feeling depleted, demotivated, and defeated.
Our culture values giving to others, sharing our gifts, making a contribution. What it ignores, is how to cultivate un understanding of how to take care of our capacity – how not to empty the well of capacity completely, but find ways to refill it. Our culture has not developed the wisdom to direct our capacity in a way that doesn’t cause harm to the person doing the giving.
Just because you have the capacity to do more, doesn’t mean you should. True wisdom lies in the discernment of when to hold back, when to say no, even if we know we can handle more, and knowing when to stop before the well is empty; before our bucket is scraping the cement at the bottom of the well.
We fear this wisdom, because we have been conditioned to believe that these choices are selfish. For most of us (especially women), being called selfish feels like one of the worst things we could be called by friends, family, and colleagues. There is this unspoken expectation that if you have more to give, you should continue to give until there is nothing left.
For women, it cuts even deeper, because women often are conditioned to focus on the needs of others and they are praised for being selfless givers and caretakers. If your identity is interwoven with the idea of selfless giving, it can be challenging to even admit to yourself when your well has run dry.
What we don’t teach women, is how important their own personal fulfillment and recovery is to them continuing to give, care, provide, serve, love, hold… When we give at the expense of ourselves, our wells run dry, and we become bitter and resentful. Then giving no longer feels joyful, it feels intrusive. It feels violent. It feels unfair.
Everything in life is about balance / equilibrium. Giving and receiving are actually two sides of the same coin, and if I’m always the one giving, my system becomes unbalanced. Allowing myself to receive gives others the opportunity to give, and allows my well to refill so I can restore balance to my system.
So, if you are feeling thinly spread this season, I want to invite you to consider slowing down to consider when last you have filled your own well? In the workshop I invited participants to share how they knew when they were running on empty. They shared that they become more reactive and emotional. They feel sad, angry, frustrated, annoyed, resentful. They have less patience and tend to snap more easily.
I also invited them to share how they knew when their wells were full and they had capacity. They shared that they feel more calm and patient. They don’t get worked up over small things. They can maintain perspective and really want to give to others. They want to connect and share. They feel more at peace, and more happy.
We deeply know when we are resourced and when we are not. Often, we override our own wisdom because of fear that we will be judged as selfish. Ironically, when we dismiss our own wisdom, we end up becoming the very thing we feared – i.e., we become resentful, angry, and frustrated. We stop caring.
Personally, I am advocating for a reclamation for women of the word, selfish. What if being more selfish – by putting your own needs first – could make you more selfless?
So, dear reader, consider this your permission slip to stop, to rest, to refill your well. Consider this your invitation to savour the last few days of this year – to let it matter deeply that you are present. The speed at which we move determines how much we will actually remember. If this were going to be your last Xmas / Hannukah / New Year Celebration, how would you want to remember it?