Back in 2011 when I finished my life-coach certification, I received an email from the director of Master Coach training. She asked me to enter that years’ program. I just assumed it was sent to all the certified coaches and ignored it, since I was busy writing my book.
Come to find out later I was one of a select few that received that email–so I was special. I didn’t think I was special, which is a common refrain from childhood. Then again sometimes I think I’m the greatest thing since heated car-seats on a cold morning. A tragic amount of my time is spent vacillating between these two emotional states…sigh. It’s a VERY unhelpful place to live, and yet I can’t seem to vacate.
As with most things that annoy/befuddle me, I sat down to write about it. I made a list of all the ways I was special: my heightened sensitivity to emotional energy, my Inner Viking that never says can’t, connecting with teenage girls, witty comebacks, etc.
Then I wrote a list of ways I’m just another human: common taste in music and podcasts, terrible at making marketing decisions, managing people, and organizing paperwork, etc. Those lists were relatively the same length. So I’m evens on the special/average Josie continuum.
Where does that leave me? Why do I need to be special to be okay?
It reminds me of Zero-sum game theory, where there is one winner and one loser. If I HAVE to be special, by definition someone else isn’t. But I’m a big fan of win/win, because that’s where compassion and joy live.
And THAT reminds me of watching my baby play volleyball and rotate off the court. I was incensed that she was going back to the bench! Couldn’t the coach see that she was special, and she should play all the way around?
When I later shared my frustration, she looked at me dumbfounded, “Mom, firstly you don’t know what you’re talking about! We rotate in volleyball—that’s the game. If I don’t come off the court then my teammates don’t get to play! It’s a TEAM sport, remember?” Color me schooled.
Kindness is a place where being special is a universal win/win, and my baby has that in abundance.
The next time I feel less than special, I will practice kindness towards my inner middle-schooler who never got enough recognition. I will rejoice that the cycle of insecurity in my family has not extended to the next generation, but the practice of kindness has!
XO
Terri
