Banish Self-Doubt and Focus on Being Present
I remember very clearly the moment when a founder gave me this very good piece of advice. I was 21 and at the very beginning of my startup career. For the years that followed, I was pretty much never the smartest person in the room. As is usual for young people in startups, I had a role and a level of responsibility which far exceeded my experience and I had very little management or support.
At school, I was never the smartest person in the room either. By quite a long way. I went to a very high achieving girls school — it was officially the best in the country at the time. I recall on exam results day how the newspapers had come to take photographs because we’d done so well in final exams. I shouldn’t say we, I’d missed the grades I needed for my university place and I had to shuffle off to join the very short queue of those who faced an uncertain future. What followed was a couple of very anxious days while I awaited my fate. I went to all the exam results parties in the meantime, though. Eventually, I was finally let into my university of choice.
At school, I relaxed very comfortably into my role of being not as smart as everyone else and I aggressively channelled my energy into other pursuits. I was an extra-curricular junkie. And that served me well — I picked up a lot more useful skills for the workplace in debating society than I did sitting at the back of set six science class.
But more recently, as a consultant, I get paid to be the expert in the room. I also work in a young industry. Ten years in startups makes you an old-timer, both in age and experience. I often catch myself going to Linkedin to see when the impressive young people I often encounter left school — it’s always, not very long ago. In my job as an adviser, I‘ve become accustomed to speaking with authority and to feeling secure to give opinions loosely, in a lot of rooms. Without realising, I’ve been cruising in the comfort zone.
And then I went on a writing course. I signed up on a whim after catching up with an old colleague and dear friend and mentor. He’d recommended it to me and with little thought of what would be involved, I enthusiastically signed up. My hunger for varied pursuits is still with me from those school days. I couldn’t have been less prepared for what an emotionally draining and challenging experience it would turn out to be. Thankfully, I had convinced a friend to come along with me. We had bonded in the wee hours in the early stage of our recent friendship by admitting to each other that we both wanted to write a memoir.
And so, the Saturday morning of our first class came around. I met my friend at 9 am at Camden Town station and we were dizzy with excitement that we were going back to school. It was going to be my first time in a classroom for ten years. But then we arrived, and we were told to write. At this precise moment, I was the dumbest person in any room. I panicked and spent the first ten minutes of the time defiantly not writing a single word, while the heart palpitations hammered through me. I finally forced myself to do it and I wrote down whatever popped into my head. And then, the teacher told us — we had to read out loud what we’d written to the rest of the class. And we all had to do it, no exceptions. I could barely concentrate as the brave souls went ahead of me. It quickly dawned on me that everyone else in the class was very, very good.
While others were reading their writing, I kept looking back at the words on my page. My worst memories and deepest insecurities were staring back at me. Not only was I terrified of sharing my deepest, darkest secrets, I also couldn’t stop thinking how terrible my writing was, how uninteresting my memories were and how I was so much worse than the rest of the class. I finally couldn’t take it anymore and asked to go next to get it over with. So I read mine, and then it was over. I got some feedback which I couldn’t concentrate on because I was still in such a state. When I went for lunch with my friend, she herself had said she was so nervous she‘d worried she was going to be sick on me. It took me a long time to get over the experience of class that day. It was the real, raw feeling of being in the discomfort zone. And one I hadn’t experienced for years.
The following week, on the train from Camden to New Cross, my friend and I were reflecting on the stressful experience we’d had the week before. We concluded we had to banish the self-doubt and intrusive thoughts to get anything meaningful from this course. The week before, I had been too busy thinking about myself to listen to other people’s writing or to hear the feedback I‘d received. I hadn’t given anyone else any feedback either, which was just selfish. So, on the train, I made a commitment — I would focus on just being present, on just listening to others and what they’re saying, and give a lot less thought to myself. This also meant turning off my phone for the whole day. I didn’t allow work or social intrusions to steal any precious energy.
And so, with the gremlins at bay, in week two of class, I found I was actually really enjoying myself. I happily volunteered to read out my writing first, I was thoughtful in giving feedback to others and there were no heart palpitations or feelings of panics this time. It was a far more fulfilling experience. It dawned on me, that I can’t control how good or how bad I am. I can, however, control how present I am in a room and how much I listen and seek to learn from others around me.
Then I learnt the power of finding fulfilment in the experience in of itself. I finally knew what it meant when people talked about intrinsic values (finding the value in the doing of something, rather than in its results). I had read about intrinsic values and thought it sounded like a super cool thing to aspire to, but this was the first time I really experienced what it meant. I felt privileged to have the time and the money to be able to spend a whole Saturday in a classroom. I felt delighted the writing group was of such a high standard and that they were people I could learn from. I felt nourished and calm and happy for the whole six hours.
So the next time you’re in a room and you feel uncomfortable and out of your depth. And the next time you can’t hear others, because you’re only listening to the gremlins in you’re head talking about how you’re not good enough. Remember, it really isn’t about you — you can’t control how good or bad you are at something. The only thing you can control is how engaged and present you are in the company of others. And that will make you the smartest person that you need to be, in any room.
I’m Tiffany Philippou and I blog about work and life. If you liked this, read my alternative guide to confidence and my dialogue between me and my writing gremlins.
Banish Self-Doubt and Focus on Being Present
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