Hello Everyone. My name is ___ and I am a recovering perfectionist

• 

"Close your eyes! Open your hands, Mummy!" demanded my 6 year old daughter one Saturday morning as she eagerly shared another one of her precious works of art. She had been silently toiling away at it in her room for over an hour.

"Okay. Now, open them!" ... "I made this for you. Do you like it?" I smiled knowingly, slowly opened my eyes and excitedly exclaimed [like it was the first time this scene was being played out], "Oh, thank you darling! It is absolutely goooorrggeeouus!"

Without trying to break my smile, I snuck a quick glance down at her multi-colored fingers and palms, and then at the floor where a trail of itty bitty pieces of paper and glitter lay in her path. I breathed deeply and quietly reminded myself: It's the weekend, Nikkia; let her have her fun; remember it's about finding joy in the DOING; embrace the chaos.

Seeming to sense my struggle to keep things positive, she added empathetically: "Mummy, you don't have to worry about all of this. Remember, I am an artist, and sometimes artists have to make mess in order to create!" I was equal parts shocked at the maturity of her words AND inspired by how quickly the student was becoming the teacher. But mostly, I was super duper proud.

It is wonderful that she has found an outlet to express herself, without inhibition, at such a young age. And I admire that she sees so much beauty in imperfection (or rather, what the world has taught us to view as imperfect). Where others see drawing outlines as a clear indication of where color should begin and stop, she sees mere suggestions that need not be taken too seriously.

I feel slightly ashamed to admit this. But the truth is that in my daughter's early coloring days, my instinct was to say "nice job sweetie pie, but, see those lines? Let's try to color inside of them next time." Of course I didn't say this outloud. But I thought it, and that was enough for me to feel like I was doing a lousy job at embracing my daughter for who she was and nurturing her natural talents.

It was clear that I needed to work on myself and my perfectionist mindset before I could willingly accept the clutter, the fingerprints on the walls and the general chaos. I had to let go of my desire to want her to want order, neatness and perfection (read: be more like me).

My perfectionist tendencies went way back. It was a quality that was nurtured in me as a child and rewarded in school. It helped me remain focused and resilient after I'd graduated from university and then again, business school and desperately in search of a job.

I was the person who would look at an email endlessly to make sure that it was perfect before hitting the send button. And even after sending it out, I'd re-read it, then get angry at myself if I noticed a mistake that I did not catch before sending it out. And when a presentation was finished, I'd spend hours making it look like a consultant's presentation; fixating on font and formatting and slide titles like the future of the business depended on it. It was excruciating and time-sucking, but it also secretly made me very happy to do these things.

It took a near burnout for me to realize that striving for perfection not only stressed me out unnecessarily, but also made me look like a control freak who didn't know how to prioritize. A close friend recognized my patterns and was eager to share a road-tested solution with me. She knew that I was a junkie for constructive feedback and would want to "win" at implementing this. I am so happy that she shared this, because I've been passing it along to others ever since.

She said that I could relax to my standards to about 80% because, for many folks, my 80% looked pretty damn close to 100%. The value of that remaining 20% was almost non-existent. It may have made ME feel good, but it took time and energy to get there and was not seen to offer any substantial value over and above the 80%.

So I slowly started pulling back to test the waters. And you know what? No. One. Noticed. A. Difference. Not a soul.

• I did not get called out for sending emails with typos or presentations with wonky formatting. The message was received and understood.

• Something kind of strange also started happening. The more I shared my 60% or 80% finished work with my partners, the more involved they began to feel in my work and the easier it was for them to provide helpful feedback. It was as though showing NON-perfect work was a show of how comfortable and confident as I was in my work.

• Of course, if I was dealing with a priority project or communicating with a person or a group that were very high up in the pecking order, I buttoned up and gave 100% and spent that extra time where I needed to.

Today, I am proud to say that I am a recovering perfectionist. I prioritize where I need to put more focus and spend more time and where I can afford to do less - at home AND at work. And when I start slipping back into old habits, I think of my daughter's approach to her art and remind myself to let go and not take things so seriously.

So tell me, do you consider yourself a perfectionist or a recovering perfectionist? How has that affected the way you work - positively and negatively. Feel free to share your thoughts / stories in the comments section below.

Why it's okay to ask for help when you're struggling at work

One of my favorite and most treasured golden gems of advice gifted to me by my first boss, was to never shy away from asking for help, because:

... those who are able to acknowledge that they don't have all of the answers and are brave enough to seek guidance, tend to go the furthest.

Like your tell-it-like-it-is aunt, or that sensible older cousin, she had an uncanny ability to see into my future in a way that I could not. When she spoke, I felt emotion and force and intellect carrying her words - a clear sign that she was speaking from experience. So I listened intently. She put a tremendous amount of care and effort into helping me understand my potential so that I could fly far when I had left her protective nest. She strove to help put me on as sturdy a footing as possible as soon as I walked through the doors because she knew that the world beyond her reassuring reach would not be so forgiving.

Looking back, the behavior which led my boss to dole out sage wisdom in her typical no frills, borderline tough love style, came from a place of innocence on my part. It was an obvious rookie misstep. Believing in my abilities in spite of my lack of deep technical experience, she'd managed to bring me in to join her team, part-time at first. She desperately needed some additional hands to help tackle the mountain of work that her full-time team could no longer focus on because of a sudden tripling in workload; the happy result of a recent, super, successful, new product launch. My task seemed fairly simple at the outset: review a bunch of historical research from a handful of different countries; find the patterns and inconsistencies; then present thoughtful recommendations to the broader team.

"Well, this is a lot, but I've got what it takes, right?" were my initial thoughts. I don't think I actually said many words while the request was being explained to me. For sure, if I did, none of them were questions. So I left her office feeling excited and ready to tackle my very first big-girl corporate assignment. I returned to my cubicle and started opening the files from my email. One by one, I quickly clicked through each report and became increasingly overwhelmed by all that I in-fact did not know: the jargon, the acronyms; the differences in the way each report was assembled; the numbers... all. those. numbers.

I shut my laptop and headed to the coffee cart by the elevators when our friendly coffee lady stopped on our floor. I was eager to take a break, because by then, my brain was swimming with thoughts of doom and doubt. Wait, I have no idea what a corporate-style 'synthesis' looks like! What does she mean by 'synthesis'? Is that a summary or are they used to something completely different around here? I felt silly for feeling so ill-prepared, and worried about being found out for this.

I returned to my desk to continue to inflict more mental wounds; I'm not supposed to be here. I'm the only one here who hasn't worked in the field that they were hired to work in before. I'm not sure she knew what she would be getting into when she hired me. And on I went. I spent most of the day beating myself up for not being able to figure things out more quickly and kept all these feelings to myself. The next day, I resolved to get moving and did what I could to get on top of the request so that I could prove to my boss that she'd not made a mistake in bringing me on. I did everything...well, I did everything that is, except ask for help.

Before the final delivery of my presentation, I'd set up a meeting to share my progress and get feedback from my boss. By that point, I had worked so hard on perfecting every slide that I'd convinced myself that the presentation was awesome. Yes, awesome. I was proud of what I'd overcome and was eager to see my boss' reaction to what I'd done; what I'd thought was really good work.

But she wasn't on the same page. She didn't think that it was awful, but her stiffly placed pointer-finger over her lips, revealed a subtle discomfort; like she was not quite unhappy, but not thrilled either, and did not want to say too much right away so as not to bruise my ego. After I'd gone through the first section of the presentation, she finally stopped me. She posed two pointed questions which were meant to help orient her as she listened to my story, but were really not-so thinly veiled pieces of constructive feedback: "What's the objective of this presentation?" and "Who is this presentation for?" I was completely thrown off... and deeply humbled.

As I stumbled over my answers, I could feel my body's temperature increasing as waves of embarrassment seeped into the places where certainty once occupied. To her credit, my boss knew exactly what she was doing. My presentation was aesthetically beautiful and showed that I'd put a lot of work into extracting the big AHAs, but it lacked the cohesion it needed to be a compelling story that would keep an audience's attention or spark meaningful thinking and conversation.

In addition to asking about the presentation's objective and intended audience, my boss also inquired why I hadn't come to her earlier on to clarify these questions, and any others that I might have had. I confessed lied and said that I didn't think I needed the help because the request was clear and straightforward. The truth, as you now know, was that I was scared.

I equated asking for help with weakness. So I kept my mouth shut and my head down; plowed through the research using Google as my substitute teacher to close the knowledge gaps that remained in the transition from Grad School to Real Work; looked through the work of others who came before me to get a flavor for what 'good' looked like; and worked into the wee hours of the morning to put it all together.

I wanted to over-deliver and exceed expectations. But while I worked overtime, my boss heard silence coming from my direction. And that quiet... that gaping void in communication, unfortunately did more harm than good. In the absence of news, we human beings have evolved to fill the gaps. We unconsciously fill the gaps with whatever makes the most sense to us so that we can move on and deal with more important things. In my case, my silence led my boss to fill the gap with the belief that I really did have it all covered, because (she assumed), if I needed help, I would have come to her.

As our feedback session continued, she went on to explain how important it was to overcome the fear of asking for help; and that the first step was to change my view of it from a sign of weakness to a show of courage; and that the MAGIC was in being able to find the right way to communicate the need for help.

So rather than just saying, "I need help," the key was to do it (1) during the first point of contact in order to clarify hypotheses, concerns, risks, deadlines and any other areas of ambiguity before running off to do the work, and (2) at appropriate intervals during the actual work to informally-check in on progress so that helpful guidance could be given. More than helping to set expectations and reduce the chances of disappointment upon delivery of the work, doing these things would help to foster trust, build credibility and enhance the feelings of collaboration and teamwork critical to my standing on the team, and ultimately my career.

Luckily for me, this experience and the above lessons which came from it, were well-contained: it occurred on the early side of my career; was oriented around my first project; my 'requester' was my manager; and said manager was a caring female leader in the company who saw potential in me and always took the time to coach me on the softer, more nuanced side of leadership. I am thankful that I was in a safe space to fail and learn quickly.

Now I recognize that having this 'safe space to fail' is a bit of a luxury. I also understand that many managers simply do not have the patience for, the inclination towards, or capacity for this kind of coaching. So if I can offer up any advice to those who are early in career, stressed out about delivering excellent work, but also struggling to make progress: it would be to ask for help. You may feel extremely nervous about admitting that you don't know, or are confused - but if you've taken steps, any steps at all, to try to tackle the challenge (looking through the presentation that you were emailed counts! talking to a colleague to get their thoughts also counts!) you're off to a strong start.

Thoughts on how to confidently ask for help

Try communicating that you've "made some inroads, but have a question" or that you'd "like to set up time to ask a few questions to ensure that you're on the right path" or that you have "some ideas on how to tackle the challenge but wanted to get feedback on them."

But whatever you do, try not sit silently at your desk until the nth hour, or plowing away on a task in the wrong direction only to learn that you've been off course when it's too late. Ask for help, be humble, then overdeliver.

Go ahead. Give it a try. It's worth the shot.

You call it taking things personal. I call it passion.

This was my actual response during a meeting when someone in a position of more senior leadership said "don't take it so personally" as I tried to defend a decision I'd taken that I was proud of, but he was not so sure about.

While I was uttering the words, I felt a strange mix of things - joy, courage and a tinge of fear...but mostly a bursting pride in my ability to quickly (and calmly) conjure the right words in the moment to defend my integrity.

Immediately after the words left my mouth, there was an audible gasp in the room followed by a brief and silent pause; from me, because I had nothing left to say, and from him, because I think that he was honestly quite #shooketh. The conversation proceeded normally after that, but I was left experiencing a mildly tingling sensation throughout my body, most probably from the adrenaline and dopamine surge triggered by my instinctual fight-or-flight response to that unexpected, highly charged and very public interaction.

After the meeting, several of my female peers cornered me - "Wow, I could have never done that. Good on you!" "I didn't like the way you were being spoken to, and was so glad that you defended yourself, but I would never have thought to say that out loud." [and my favorite...] "He always talks to people like that, yet you're the first person who has ever had the guts to put him in his place in public!"

Huh? But why?! So many why's... Why had I been the first person? Why was it an act of bravery to defend in that way? These questions lingered in my mind for several days after the incident. Sometimes I felt a bit of anger rise up in my chest because it wasn't the first time (nor will it be the last time!) that I had been told that I was taking something personally when in fact, I was simply putting forth a strong POV backed by clear data-based rationale, in a passionate way. It also wasn't the first time that a natural inclination or behavior of mine, was deemed brave.

The interaction conjured up vivid memories of an eerily similar incident which occurred several years prior. During a meeting in a cramped room with three other people, one of my direct reports turned to me to quietly ask a question about what was being presented - totally innocent... totally normal. Right? Not so in this case. I did not have a chance to respond to her when, without warning, the male chair of the meeting abruptly yelled, "Nikkia, why you are being so disruptive!" As you can imagine, I was completely floored... but not just because no sounds had actually escaped my lips, but because he was reared-up and angry as a result of what seemed like, a work-related, presumed infraction. There was no way that I could have been affected personally by this outburst because it had nothing to do with me really - my presence was just a catalyst. Nevertheless, an apology was most-definitely warranted because the interaction was inappropriate and because it negatively affected someone on my team who was worried that she had gotten me in trouble.

So I went to his office upon his request (which I should not have done... but now know better: always find a neutral location when trying to resolve conflict!) and he apologized. But then, just as I was about to get up to leave he explained, "you know you have a presence that can be sometimes disruptive, right?" And then I was like, "Uh huh? Okay. Goodbye."

In both of these examples, aspects of my being (not just my behavior) were being mutated and openly challenged because of unconscious bias. And I'm sure for many of you reading this, these experiences feel familiar. If I were a man, would my passionate defense of a POV be characterised as taking things personal, or would it be perceived as me being strong and leader-like? And what about that nasty word, "disruptive?" Now I get that this dude was going through something of which I had no influence nor control, but I believed then, as I do now, that because of the package that words come in (your look, the way you carry yourself, your accent, where you come from), a message can be perceived in dramatically different ways - on one side of the spectrum, additive, and on the other side, disruptive. This is unconscious bias... but more about that a little further down.

So what do we do with all of this? How can you effectively communicate to people who are mistaking your PASSION for taking things PERSONAL, that it's not okay?

Here are 3 things to consider based on my experiences, but as always, please feel free to share more.

1. It starts with self-awareness, because it is rarely about YOU - I know it sounds cliché , but knowing yourself deeply; your strengths, weaknesses and triggers, is the starting point in facing challenges and conflicts at work. If you're receiving constructive or negative feedback about something, you won't be able to control the manner in which the message is delivered, but if you understand what you're all about, you should be able to quickly suss out whether the feedback is relevant or whether it's a veiled attack on your character.
   
2. Understand unconscious bias and how prevalent it is - We aren't aware of this, but all of us possess some form of unconscious bias towards certain groups of people with which we have little social contact. At work, this bias permeates everything we do, and so we must all work actively to train our minds to combat it. Some organizations are ahead of others in implementing policies and instituting training to create more diverse and inclusive working environments (which is great), however many others are not there yet. So it's up to us as individuals to try to lead the change where we can and in our own ways. Feel free to take inspiration from my bold yet respectful retort ("Please don't take my passion for taking things personally) or if you're comfortable, you might even want to inquire genuinely "would you say that if I were a man?"... or you can educate yourself by hearing from advocates in the HR field who are trying to empower (love me some TED Talks)... or you can join communities on social media that are trying to bring about change.
3. Defend yourself - if not in the moment, then some other time - When a comment comes flying your way that is meant to tarnish your character, there will be no mistaking it. You will feel it in your bones. It will make you immediately uncomfortable and your automatic fight-or-flight response will kick into high gear as your mind and body react to the insult. In that moment, you may be the only person feeling disgraced. You may notice that no one has batted an eyelid and the conversation continues. This is commonplace because we are far from where we need to be in many work environments with regards to diversity, inclusion and true equality. If you feel it but are not sure, you might want to check in with a trusted colleague who was there to understand what their takeaways were from the incident in question. Be prepared however. You may not always get the response you expected. Whether confirmed or not, if you're unsettled to a point where your work is being affected, you might want to talk to your direct manager about how to proceed, or HR if you're comfortable. Finding time (and a neutral location) to talk with the person would be my next suggested step. With time, you'll find yourself gaining confidence at being able to deliver the feedback in the moment and in artfully smooth ways, instead of having to schedule a conversation later (something that can make the grievance feel larger and the confrontation scarier than it needs to be.)