Why growth takes guts

A story about personal struggle, wrestling with your flaws, and the power of vulnerability.

Call me a skeptic — or as I see it, a truth-teller — but I never fully grasped that “bring your whole self to work” schtick. Maybe because I was born, bred, and hardened on the East Coast. Maybe because us men haven’t traditionally been known for being emotionally available. Having to work around people’s feelings (and share my own) always felt inconvenient, if not orthogonal to the work. I never really thought you had to be vulnerable to be successful — you just had to be right.

Here’s how that all changed. Two years ago I started working at a place called SYPartners: an eclectic, quirky bunch of former architects, lawyers, graphic designers, journalists, activists, and consultants seeking refuge from orthodox approaches to business today, in search of radical new ways of solving problems, imagining the future, and making an impact in the world. We’re characters with character.

Working here is fun, a lot of fun, but it didn’t always feel that way for me, and I didn’t always feel good. In fact, it wasn’t long after starting that I found myself stumbling. I felt I wasn’t given enough responsibility; I spent more time in between projects than I did staffed on them. My colleagues seemed to be cruising past me as I lost momentum. I was impatient, restless, overwhelmed with ambition, aching to be challenged. I kept trying to make sense of why I felt so stuck, and lathering much (ok most) of the blame on others.

In long-distance running the only opponent you have to beat is yourself, the way you used to be. — Haruki Murakami

Running always clears my head, the longer the better. And in San Francisco there are few routes better than the Embarcadero, which hugs the city’s coastline for seven beautiful miles. On one of those runs, right around mile four, in the midst of all kinds of Freudian back flips, here’s what occurred to me:

“I just don’t get why I’m not getting the same opportunities as everyone else.

I just don’t get why I’m not clicking with everyone else.

What if I’m the reason I’m not where I want to be?

What if I’m getting in my own way?

What if I’m a pain in the ass to work with? But I love what I do — this is a dream job.

OH SHIT. What if I screw this up?

Oh no…”

I was devastated. I’d gone on a run to sort through the noise I was experiencing, only to have the epiphany that I was my own greatest obstacle. I remember the emotion I felt then too: Crappy. Really fucking crappy.

So I realized, with a mix of shame, fear, and humility, that I needed to share what I’d discovered about myself with my team if I was to make any progress. The thought was as appealing as vegemite. Or the dentist. Or watching that Bridesmaids sex scene with your parents.

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. —Elizabeth Appell

A few weeks after my epiphany along the Embarcadero, I found myself in a goal-setting conversation with my team — seven women and myself. Each of us sharing what we hoped to achieve for the rest of the year. When it was my turn, I decided to go for it. I shared what I’d realized about myself. How I’d spent the better part of the year frustrated; how fear and ego had driven much of my behavior; how hard I was now working to let go of all that baggage. And how I knew I could do better.

I cried.

And then others in the room started crying as well. That confused the hell out of me. Even more to my surprise, others began opening up and sharing their own personal struggles and fears. After the meeting, people came up to me individually and thanked me. Thanked me for sharing, for being vulnerable, for creating a really nurturing space. I was stunned. This wasn’t the reaction I’d been dreading — quite the opposite. Before I saw the odds stacked against me, and I now saw a team of incredibly generous, empathetic people willing to help me grow personally and professionally.

That’s when I realized that vulnerability is a powerful, healthy, vital thing. My sharing gave other people permission to share. It opened people up and knocked down the walls we often put up around our flaws — hoping no one sees through the tiny cracks.

Yes, “bringing your whole self to work” might sound like fluffy, New Age Silicon Valley affirmation. But as it turns out, it’s also true. Doing it requires you to work your shit out (as the East Coaster in me would say), so you can discover who you are when you let go of the armor, put down the defenses, and unpack your insecurities.

And frankly, when you start working on yourself, you realize that before you can lead and inspire anyone else, you must know and understand yourself. You can’t just work on the messy facets of your personality outside your 9–5 and completely ignore them during your 9–5. And that means (gulp) you might need to ask for help.

Call it being emotionally honest, call it bringing your whole self to work, call it whatever — but it works. I’ve let down my guard and let others in. This is all hard stuff to do — especially for men. We’re not always raised and rewarded for sensitivity (the common aphorisms like “be a man” and “suck it up” come to mind), but it’s incredibly important. Now I spend much more time trying to empathize and understand others than I do making sure I’ve gotten to the answer first. And I’ve got to say, work’s a lot more fun.

So be brave. Be vulnerable. Be inviting. It’s worth taking the risk — believe me.

Arthur Nelson is a Strategist at SYPartners in San Francisco, and a recovering East Coaster.