My mind likes to replay every mistake I’ve made. There are many. In the frankest moments with others I trust, I’m told this is common.
The recordings pop up at inopportune times, but if there’s a pattern, it’s after 9 p.m. when the distractions fall away and I’m trying to slow down for often elusive sleep. Sometimes they are triggered by a sight, sound or smell; hot buttons blinking red, waiting to fire visceral rockets from years of compartmentalization right into the heart.
I ran into a former colleague at the grocery story this week. When I recognized him, his first response was to say, “You fired me.”
I have long forgotten that chapter, remembering better times when he would show me pictures of his grand kids, now proud and productive parents, during my walkabouts. We quickly slipped back into that mode after I recovered with something like, “I’m sorry that happened. You look great and it feels like things have worked out well for you.”
Where I got that quick response only the Universe knows. But the encounter triggered another dozen memories of regret from my time in that role. I imagined how others, impacted by my flawed, inexperienced leadership may still have my name on their hate list.
It was another reminder that we can’t control what happens to us. We can’t change the past or assure the future. We can’t control what others think or how they act.
The one thing we can control is how we respond, processing a lifetime of experience to act in the most humane way possible.
These days, it often feels like humaneness is extinct, kindness is a weakness and compromise is a character flaw. We can’t control crazy. We can respond by speaking our truth, being kind, seeking common ground and pressing forward.
“Keep running,” my dad used to say when we were both still 10K striders, “As long as you can get up one more time than you fall down, you’re still in the game.”
