Back off, No, It's none of your business

And other things I wish were easier to say/do/be

Photo by Sylwia Bartyzel on Unsplash

[Glitter and Biscuits will now be published on Friday mornings (rather than Saturday) at the same time of 10am UK. Today’s missive is about boundaries.]

---

One memorable low of my corporate career was the moment a male colleague told me I should smile more.

“Don’t take everything so seriously, Claire. Lighten up. It’ll take you far. ”

He pre-empted this pearl of wisdom by telling me how much he valued my contribution, and that he hoped his feedback would be useful as I moved to my next role. Then he puffed out his chest, and delivered his advice as if it were the most insightful I would ever receive.

That was seven days before I left the organisation, and so I suppose in his mind that feedback was his parting gift to me. I had been taught since day one of my induction into working life, twelve years earlier, that feedback was always exactly that. A gift to be received graciously. An opportunity to improve and become more aware. To become a better person and leader.

I left that final meeting with him, and did my best to hide my tears on the commute home. I’m not sure I knew what a boundary was back then, and I certainly wasn’t equipped to tell a man who held as senior position as he did, that he had crossed one of mine. So instead, when he thrust that feedback upon me, I thanked him. Even though everything about that conversation felt wrong.

---

In recent days I’ve been gathering myself after a similar encounter. Uninvited, albeit well-meaning feedback, on how I move through the world. On who I am. How I choose to live and experience my life.

It has knocked me square onto my back and most frustratingly, despite having a far better understanding of what boundaries are now, I’ve fallen into the trap of being pulled into a conversation and explaining myself. Rather than stating “I didn’t ask for this kind of feedback. I do not want it. It is not relevant, or appropriate.”

I don’t wish to go into the details (they don’t matter). What does matter is what I am learning from this. By writing about it, my hope is that it supports me explore and move through the discomfort, to what lies on the other side, and that there’s something that may be useful, or resonate, or make you feel less alone if you find yourself navigating similar:

• Not being open to feedback, especially when it is well-intended, creates a feeling of shame. When I say no, it feels as though I’m doing something wrong.

  My inner critic says I am being defensive, closed and protective for not wanting to hear it. You should be able to take it Claire. Call yourself a coach? A life-long learner? Want to be a better writer? Take the damn feedback. Suck it up.

  But there’s a place for being closed. It can be wise to protect ourselves. Being clear in our own minds (and with others) about the kind of feedback we are, and are not open to, is necessary. Particularly if we are following our soul’s calling, a path that is unfamiliar, tender and requires considerable energy, or practicing something new.

• When somebody assumes responsibility for trying to fix me it activates the part of me that believes I am not enough. The part that believes I should keep my head down and work on myself until I am polished enough/confident enough/ together enough to be seen in public. Of course it does. The other person is stepping into the role of hero, and so the pull is for me to play the victim. It is a seductive invitation for both parties. But it is not a game I wish to play.

  I don’t need to be fixed, or saved, or advised or made better or released from whatever is holding me back. I am finding my way in my own time, in my own way, with the support from others that I choose to receive. I will also never feel completely ready, and I choose to show up anyway.

  This project is entitled Glitter and Biscuits because what stops me (and millions/billions (?) of others) is the belief we have to have it all figured out before we take action we care about. But nobody feels confident all the time. Nobody feels ready all of the time. We don’t need to have it all together, to follow our hearts and have the impact we wish to.

• In some parts of my life and work I do want feedback. I want my coaching and training clients to tell me what would work better. I want the women’s mastermind group I am part of to give me honest suggestions on the new wording for my website, my latest coaching offerings. I want my writing buddy Linda, who is on a similar creative journey to me, to tell me what could be clearer, and what she is left wondering about when I send her my creative writing. I want my editor to tell me what needs more work in my manuscript. In all of these examples, this is the agreement I have made with the people concerned.

  In contrast, there are other places and contexts it is not relevant or welcome. And that is OK. I am allowed to say no.

  Here, for example, I welcome people sharing what my writing touches in them. What they are taking from it. What resonates. What it means to them in the context of their lives. What I write here is intended as a mirror, not an open window into my life for others to climb through. My choice to draw on personal experiences as a means to illustrate the points I wish to make, is not a green light for observations and advice on my process/experience/humanness/decisions. That is my business and what you take from what I create from it, is yours.

• When we don’t slap on a smile and pretend to be happy, vibrant, energised and confident when we feel the opposite, the risk is that it can have other people feel uncomfortable. When we show up as we are, speak what’s true for us, provide an honest opinion without dancing around it, the same can happen. It may stir something in others, and we cannot control what happens next. People will respond to our presence, our actions, our creativity, our contributions in ways that can have less to do with us, and more to do with them.

• Holding boundaries can be particularly tricky with people we know. In some ways it feels easier dealing with an anonymous hater or troll on social media than a well-meaning friend/colleague/family member. There is a risk the relationship may be damaged if we ask them to back off. But if it is a relationship worth being part of, it’s likely to withstand such conversations. When we fail to hold one, for whatever reason, we can notice, and try again next time.

• I fear saying no to people’s offers of constructive feedback will be seen as arrogant and closed off. But I must risk being seen as arrogant and closed to be true to myself. I have spent too many years following advice I had no business following, and melding myself to fit what other people wanted from me, and now, in the second half of my life, it is time for something different. 

  I am forging a path, my own path, and the edge for me is to get increasingly comfortable with other people not getting me/it/what I am doing.

• Boundaries are about what happens with other people, and there also boundaries we hold for ourselves and how we choose to work and live. By publishing Glitter and Biscuits on a Saturday, though I press the schedule and send button during my working week, there’s a leak of energy during my precious weekend time. Whilst watching my son playing football on a Saturday morning, my mind has drifted as each letter goes out into the world, even though I am not at my laptop. It feels good to catch this, and adjust.

Thank you for your company. As always, I look forward to your reflections if that’s something you would enjoy sharing.

With love,

Claire

---

Find me elsewhere:

Instagram: @clairemackinnonwrites

Website: clairemackinnon.com

LinkedIn: Claire Mackinnon