When your life and career consists of struggling to find your niche and running to just stand still, it’s hard to find victories to celebrate, ones that reassure you that you’re doing the right thing.
Three years ago, I was talking with a therapist about being in a period of a cycle of making mistakes at work which further wrecked my confidence to successfully accomplish my duties. This therapist talked about pocketing the small wins and remembering them during rough times.
I have four items that represent wins. I decided to share these symbols of wins, not as a brag, since they’re minimal, but to hopefully encourage others who can relate.
I’ll share these objects and their significance in chronological order.
The first object is a simple trophy from school. At first glance, it blends in with participation trophies I received from Cub Scout pinewood derbies and youth sports, activities I was not personally invested in and felt no lasting accomplishment from. Instead, this trophy is from my junior high school year, and admittedly second place in its category. Regardless, it’s one trophy I treasure to this day. Here is the back story.
In high school I didn’t feel drawn to any extracurricular activities outside of creative writing, until junior year, when I started Film Study class. One day, I overheard the teacher talking about an upcoming production of “The Diary of Anne Frank”, as he was also the drama teacher. I told him I had acted in the same play back in eighth grade. This excited him, and he encouraged me to change from Film Study to Theatre. I was cast in their production, and eventually had a fun time, making memories with my fellow students as we went to the Holocaust Museum as inspiration for our characters, practiced lines, built the set, joked, and other more light-hearted shenanigans. I also especially enjoyed performing, channeling feelings into my performance, and finding a way to put myself out there in front of the school.
Fast forward to the end of the school year. I found out there was an end-of-year theatre award ceremony, so I decided to attend, no expectations except for hanging out with the classmates I had worked so hard and had so much fun with. Then to my surprise, I heard my name read out. I won Second Place Best Cameo for my role in “Anne Frank” (they counted it a cameo, since it was the shortest role). The trophy is modest, about seven inches tall, but it’s something I earned with genuine hard work and passion.
The next possession is more unassuming, a now out-of-date Airman’s Manual from Air Force basic training. Inside the cover on the first page, though, is a note with a story with personal significance.
As I said, the book is from basic training, my first entrance to the military. During that time, training instructors (the ones with the wide-brimmed campaign hats) are wearing you down with stress and only negative reinforcement while holding you to high standards, the purpose being to break you down and rebuild you into a member following orders. That was a heavy time for me. I felt like I had stepped off of a speeding bus, unaware of how fast it was traveling, and was thrown into the adult world, where I was fully responsible for myself for the first time, and no one else would help me out. BMT consists of, among other things, a lot of marching and organizing and straightening your bed and wall locker. Nothing must be out of place, clothes and bed sheets tight, neat, and wrinkle-free, the point being to teach discipline and attention to detail. I was not the best at anything, and felt like I had nothing really to offer. My only goal was making it through, not getting in big trouble, and not getting “recycled” (moved to a different flight at an earlier week of training, thereby delaying one’s graduation and prolonging one’s stay in this miserable place). I tried to keep my nose clean, be a good follower to my fellow trainees appointed as element leaders and dorm chief. I also tried to encourage others who were struggling under the stress like me. Cut to Warrior Week, when we were staying in tents out in the field and simulating being out on a deployment. Monday of that week, prior to dinner, we received a talk from a visiting VIP, the command chief master sergeant for the 18th Air Force. Following his talk and just before MREs (Meals Ready to Eat) were passed out, the instructors called for all dorm chiefs (appointed leads of each flight) to pick their unsung hero. Out of approximately 50 trainees, my dorm chief chose me, to my surprise. Those of us chosen then got to sit separately from everyone else and eat our MREs with the chief, asking him various questions. I noticed some of the other trainees handing him their Airman’s Manuals and having him sign them, like a kind of yearbook. I did the same, and I still have the manual to this day, even though it’s long outdated. Inside, on the first page, is a handwritten note addressed to me, Trainee [last name], and thanks for my service, and signed with his name and position. Just like with the theater trophy, the initial selection by my dorm chief was a recognition unexpected in a time when I deemed myself unremarkable. Corny as it may sound, you never know who’s paying attention.
The third possession is a photo on my phone, a selfie of me with four Airmen I had supervised up to that point. For context, during this time (I don’t know if my troops knew this) I had made some major mistakes on the job and was in a bad place mentally and emotionally, my confidence shot. Around the time of this photo, after all junior enlisted Airmen’s annual performance reports (EPRs) were closed out, they were all rotated to different supervisors. On that occasion, my airmen got me a frozen cake as a thank-you for being their supervisor. It was simple and the token itself finite, but damn, it meant a lot. I had never seen anyone else do that for that supervisor. For all the performance awards I would never earn at that duty station (save for one I put myself in for!), this made up for it. If I did nothing else exceptional, I at least took good enough care of these guys with as much sincerity and energy as I could, that they saw fit to get me a cake.
An underpinning of these first three symbols and their significance is the reliance on validation from others. A key part of this is a self-esteem issue that I’m sure a lot of people can relate to, where you draw your self-worth from what others think of you. For most of my life, I have been crippled whenever I thought people thought ill of me. Over recent years, however, I have started to find my own value independently, and I’ve fully realized I don’t need to wait on other people to validate me.
The final symbol is a laser-etched tumbler cup. As I mentioned, the only award I ever received at that duty station was one I put myself in for and won. For context, the base safety office had just started a new award, recognizing safety professionals for each quarter, and I was the safety representative for my collective unit. I had just (with the help of my program alternate rep and the safety reps of my subordinate shops) netted a passing review of our unit’s fall protection program, along with some other regular scheduled tasks (ie, ensuring shops were accomplishing and documenting monthly spot inspections). One minus to this win was that I had unintentionally neglected to tell my supervision that we were being audited until the day before, therefore blindsiding them. Still, when I learned of this new award, I decided that even in spite of my misstep, I wanted a win and something to show for my efforts at this duty station just before I moved to a new base. I wrote the award package and submitted it myself to the safety office. A week or two later, the Safety Office personnel came to my office and awarded me with a tumbler cup laser-engraved with the award category and my name and a unit coin from their office (a major recognition in the military).
This last symbol represented the kind of win where I advocated for myself and came out with something positive to show for it.
Not all of us are the top sellers, the top performers, the most charismatic or confident or other positive outstanding adjective, and I will say to myself and others like me that this is okay, that we don’t need to draw our self-worth from others. That said, it helps to have something solid to look back to during the low points to remind yourself that you can do it. My examples are all professional, but it doesn’t just have to be that area. Maybe you need a reassurance that people value you. Think to the time a friend made time expressly for you, or a gift someone got you which matched an interest or need of yours, because that person saw and understood you.
This writing started as one thing, a short essay on the trophy, signed manual, and photo of my old troops, and what they mean to me, but as happens with most writing of mine, this evolved as I wrote. I can tell I have only scratched the surface of something, but as I said earlier, I hope this helps people who have been in a similar low place.
And if you don’t have any of the things I described, particularly the recognition from others, I hope you find the ability to start with a foundation that you still have value, and you can find that value in yourself, even if the people currently around you don’t see it. If you still don’t see it, and you’re reading this…..talk to this well-meaning fool, and maybe we can figure it out together.
Thank you for reading.
DC
