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What do you look for in those close to you?
The other day a friend asked the question: What do you look for in others that lets you know they belong close to you?
My initial answer was a growth mindset. I want to be surrounded by people that are open to actively learning throughout their life, however, that's not the main draw for me. It's the acceptance that you have to fail in order to continue to grow. The knowledge that being wrong is an opportunity if handled correctly. This is probably important to me because I am, and will always be, a recovering perfectionist.
There was an additional element to it though, that when I see it in people it immediately captures my attention and respect. I couldn't figure out how to express it other than vaguely 'courage' and I had to get on with my day.
Over the past couple of days, I kept rolling it over in my head and finally came up with: The courage to be intentionally vulnerable.
This isn't the oversharing that happens when someone's desperately distraught and erupts in emotions because they just can't hold it in anymore. Or haphazardly dumping your struggles on a stranger. Rather the ability to extend trust to those that have shown they are receptive and willing to be compassionate with your weaknesses. It's a type of trust that takes time to build, by moments when you intentionally expose the tenderest bits of yourself, knowing that if *this* person doesn't respond well it'll hurt the most because of how much you deeply care about their acceptance.
That process is scary as hell. People do it all the time, some times in big ways and sometimes in small little moments. What's easy for one person could take all the courage in the world for another. It doesn't always go well and it's easy to give up and just not put yourself out there anymore.
It takes a lot of courage to extend trust knowing you risk their disapproval or rejection. And it takes resiliency to get back up and do it again after a letdown.
What makes me feel like a good person, without going into the existential crisis of what even is good, is being able to identify those bids for a deeper connection and be receptive to them.
It's hearing how scared my son is when he tells me he broke something and be compassionate in my response. Being able to express I know telling me was scary but he did it anyway, and that I'm so proud that he chose to practice courage in this situation. Because courage isn't an innate trait, it's a skill that takes practice.
Ironically on topic, as I was mulling this over the other day the kiddo let me know this week, completely unprompted, that he'd goofed off and got some bad grades in school recently. Telling me about low grades was an ongoing issue for him last year. He knew I could see them online but struggled with telling me himself. Because when you're 14 telling your mom about a failing grade is terrifying in a very age-appropriate way.
I told him that telling me helped to build my trust and that I was very proud of him for having the courage to tell me. We talked about why he thought he'd gotten the bad grades and what he could do to recover them.
When we got home we sat down to see what projects needed attention. I started to make a list only to find out that he'd already made a detailed plan of what he needed to be done each night to get caught up by the end of the week.
It's a sizable amount of homework and he's worried he won't have time to enjoy Halloween tomorrow. I've commiserated with him on that and offered to help any way I can so that he can focus on his work.
My initial answer was a growth mindset. I want to be surrounded by people that are open to actively learning throughout their life, however, that's not the main draw for me. It's the acceptance that you have to fail in order to continue to grow. The knowledge that being wrong is an opportunity if handled correctly. This is probably important to me because I am, and will always be, a recovering perfectionist.
There was an additional element to it though, that when I see it in people it immediately captures my attention and respect. I couldn't figure out how to express it other than vaguely 'courage' and I had to get on with my day.
Over the past couple of days, I kept rolling it over in my head and finally came up with: The courage to be intentionally vulnerable.
This isn't the oversharing that happens when someone's desperately distraught and erupts in emotions because they just can't hold it in anymore. Or haphazardly dumping your struggles on a stranger. Rather the ability to extend trust to those that have shown they are receptive and willing to be compassionate with your weaknesses. It's a type of trust that takes time to build, by moments when you intentionally expose the tenderest bits of yourself, knowing that if *this* person doesn't respond well it'll hurt the most because of how much you deeply care about their acceptance.
That process is scary as hell. People do it all the time, some times in big ways and sometimes in small little moments. What's easy for one person could take all the courage in the world for another. It doesn't always go well and it's easy to give up and just not put yourself out there anymore.
It takes a lot of courage to extend trust knowing you risk their disapproval or rejection. And it takes resiliency to get back up and do it again after a letdown.
What makes me feel like a good person, without going into the existential crisis of what even is good, is being able to identify those bids for a deeper connection and be receptive to them.
It's hearing how scared my son is when he tells me he broke something and be compassionate in my response. Being able to express I know telling me was scary but he did it anyway, and that I'm so proud that he chose to practice courage in this situation. Because courage isn't an innate trait, it's a skill that takes practice.
Ironically on topic, as I was mulling this over the other day the kiddo let me know this week, completely unprompted, that he'd goofed off and got some bad grades in school recently. Telling me about low grades was an ongoing issue for him last year. He knew I could see them online but struggled with telling me himself. Because when you're 14 telling your mom about a failing grade is terrifying in a very age-appropriate way.
I told him that telling me helped to build my trust and that I was very proud of him for having the courage to tell me. We talked about why he thought he'd gotten the bad grades and what he could do to recover them.
When we got home we sat down to see what projects needed attention. I started to make a list only to find out that he'd already made a detailed plan of what he needed to be done each night to get caught up by the end of the week.
It's a sizable amount of homework and he's worried he won't have time to enjoy Halloween tomorrow. I've commiserated with him on that and offered to help any way I can so that he can focus on his work.