Trading the Desire to be Liked for Imperfect Authenticity

One of the gifts of aging is shedding identities and personas that no longer fit or serve us

Photo by Rahul Saraf on Unsplash

Prior to leaving my professional career, I’d been working for a long time: almost 45 years in jobs of one sort or another.

And longer, if you consider selling almost-ripe plums at a sidewalk stand in Chilliwack, BC, barely into the double-digit years of my life. Later, spurts of low-paid retail, food service and administrative jobs, none with holidays or benefits. Further stretches working for myself as a teacher, speech-writer, book reviewer, seamstress for magicians — anything to make a go of a freelance life.

Later, navigating my 30s and 40s, in and out of school, accumulating degrees, diplomas, certifications and promotions. Here and there, a three-day training program or conference to sharpen existing skills in coaching, facilitation, strategic planning and writing. Outgrowing one job and learning my way into a new one.

Through it all, work, the earning of money and steady hits of skill-building to keep me relevant (and solvent), had been a significant focus in my life.

Much of what had propelled my career choices was a powerful sense of making a contribution to something big, and the bulk of my career has been spent in healthcare, philanthropy and public broadcasting. Helping focus the efforts of people galvanized to create a better (healthier, safer, more democratic) world had been enriching and inspiring. Yet there was another truth, one I would gladly ignore if I could: in addition to my deeply rooted values of public service, I was driven in my work by a need to be liked, to fit in, and to act in ways that kept me employed.

I characterize this latter part of me as living from the outside in: choosing safety and self-preservation over courageous authenticity more often than I care to admit, and dampening the parts of me that might have been judged as too much this or not enough that.

Be it age, the accumulating lessons and losses, or the warmth and wisdom offered to me from those I hold in my heart, a different approach to living and working has recently started taking hold. It is small, but it’s there. And it’s this:

As I pass the marker of six decades on earth, and now work half-time as a coach supporting women seeking a thoughtfully-designed transition to retirement, this outside-in version no longer fits. My community, my network, and my clients deserve more from me than that tempered self can supply. And certainly, the world needs the purpose, commitment, and passion in me that remains silenced when I bow to the judgments (perceived or real) and fears that guide my outside-in thinking and behaviour.

The stance I’m being called to is everything that outside-in is not:

• To worry less about getting words or actions right, and worry more if I am holding back what I have to give,
• To support, speak and act imperfectly, rather than shrink in the face of overwhelm, uncertainty and not knowing what to do, and
• To live from a place of trusting what experience, power and strength I do have, and holding loosely (if at all) to self-recriminations, flaws and weaknesses.

The better approach is a fundamental shift suggested by philosopher and psychologist William James: “Begin to be now what you will be hereafter.”

For me, this is a call to flip the switch to live (and work) from the inside out. To try and fail and try again, not to get to a place of courageous authenticity and possibility, but to come from there.

Thanks for reading. More of my writing can be found here.