I think of myself as strong.
I see myself as someone who can
manage a lot of stress. Who can get a tremendous amount accomplished in a day.
Who can work long hours and pull through in clutch moments. Who doesn’t give up
in the face of problems, but works tirelessly until they are solved.
I am a leader and most leaders I
know feel the same way. We have to — our companies, our employees, our clients,
our families — they all rely on us to pull through in the clutch. And we do.
Sometimes, in our skillful mastery of pressure, complexity, and accomplishment,
we can feel super-human.
But then, on my way to dinner in New
York with old friends from high school, my bicycle hit a pothole and stopped
abruptly while I flew over the handlebars and slammed head-first into a parked
car.
Dazed, bloody, lying on the street,
I couldn’t think. Some people nearby came to ask if I was OK, but I didn’t
know. They asked if I needed water, but I didn’t know. When I eventually
staggered to me feet, they asked if I needed to sit, but I didn’t know.
Looking back on that moment, here’s
what I did know with absolute certainty: I am very, very human.
As a leader who advocates
vulnerability as a strength, I am surprised to realize that I have, somehow,
bought into the notion that I need to be super-human and that any weakness
diminishes my leadership.
In fact, I see clearly now that it
is precisely the opposite. Not acknowledging our weaknesses is counter-productive
for two simple reasons:
One, it’s unsustainable. Life
inevitably catches up to us and then, eventually, we must face the inescapable
reality that we are human, with weaknesses, flaws, and faults.
Two, it’s poor leadership.
Leadership is about connection. People will only follow you, work hard for you,
create and risk and sacrifice for you, if they feel connected to you. So here’s
my question: Will anyone ever be able to truly connect with you, really trust
you, honestly give you their all, if you only reveal to them the parts of you
that you think will impress them? How long do you think you can keep that up?
How long before they become disillusioned?
In other words, hiding our
weaknesses in an attempt to be strong leaders makes us weak leaders. Our
vulnerabilities make us most vulnerable when we pretend they don’t exist.
Here’s what’s important to remember:
our struggles do not define us any more than our successes do. You are not
weak; you have weaknesses. There is a difference.
And from this place of humanness,
that can hold both strengths and weaknesses, we can do the most leaderly thing
there is: Ask for help.
When I eventually got up and
stumbled to dinner, I was greeted by concern and support. My friend Toby got
her car, threw my bike in the back and drove me to the emergency room. Pam,
Susie, Nicky, and Vicky all came to sit with me at the hospital late into the
night.
I was lucky not to be alone that
night, and that was thanks to my humanness not despite it.
And needing help — asking for
help — is an essential part of being a leader. While I’ve always known
this, I’ve also always secretly felt that it’s a leader’s job to help others,
not to need help.
But that’s a myth. The reality is
that leaders who don’t need help have no one to lead. People feel good when
they help. They are inspired when they are needed. They don’t think less of the
people they help, they feel more connected.
I am not superhuman. Nor are you.
And that’s not only OK, it’s better.
Source: HBR Jan 21, 2019
