Post-Pandemic Liberation - What Will You No Longer Put Up With?
Watching the crowds swarming the streets of Soho this week, breaking into spontaneous applause as they socialised outdoors, there was a palpable sense of liberation in the air. Of course, such celebration may be slightly premature, some fear the enthusiastic partying could lead to yet another lockdown, but you would have to be a total doomsayer not to recognise the joy that comes with re-discovering new-found freedoms after the lifting of restrictions which have imprisoned us in very small worlds for so very long now.
As we emerge from the pandemic and start to restore our lives and rebuild our futures, for me, it is less about what I have missed and want to re-acquaint myself with and more about what I haven’t missed, what I now want to discard, what I no longer have any willingness to put up with. I can’t wait to sip a cold pint of Guinness beside the sea, play tennis with people who don’t live in my house, travel outside Northern Ireland, tentatively accept hugs, sing in church, get a hairstyle - but I also realise these are just the icing on the cake, the decorative embellishments that add the joyous touches to my life. If we have been paying attention over the last thirteen months, we should understand by now that it is not what we will add back in but rather what we will take away which will properly liberate us. It is what we will no longer choose to tolerate, those self-inflicted imprisonments, which will make the difference between enjoying lives of unshackled contentment going forward or lives which steadily decline into bitterness and regret.
You know, even if the world we return to over the next while turns out to be not so very different from the one we left over a year ago, even if cultures and systems and policies and processes remain frustratingly unchanged, we are in ourselves, different. Individually, we are changed, and we can each choose to control how we re-invent our post-pandemic lives.
So, here’s what I am no longer putting up with. I am hoping others may join me in no longer putting up with things either so we can all enjoy breaking free (and even breaking the rules) together!
Not being valued
This is a big one, probably the biggest and the most dangerous to ponder. Once you start questioning whether you are valued, you also start shedding. And I am shedding with exuberance at the moment. If you are feeling angry, embittered, trapped, cynical, on the verge of exploding, let me suggest that you are spending time somewhere, with someone or on something where you are not valued. Having applied the ‘am I valued’ question to various areas of my life, I am keeping my husband and most of my family, and I am cautiously optimistic that my children may learn to value me in due course. But the rest - roles, responsibilities, relationships - are all negotiable.
Moving on when you are not valued is nothing to do with self-interest or selfishness or self-centred egotism. It is not about being unwilling to serve others or a disregard for altruism. It is absolutely nothing to do with how much you care or don’t care about others. You can serve where you are valued forever. What you cannot do long-term is serve where you are not valued. You must move on, or you just will be eaten alive from the inside out.
Meetings
I have harped on about meeting overload endlessly, but I know of no reduction in meetings anywhere. Instead, they seem to be increasing exponentially, breeding - primarily because they feed the insatiable human addiction to busyness. “I am in meetings all day” is a badge of honour. It translates as “I matter, I am important, the organisation needs me”. Just note the feelings of panic a day without meetings can instil. Pointless, purposeless meetings empty our souls. Yet we still turn up for them. We still fill up our diaries. We have meeting FOMO. We need to find better ways to demonstrate our worth to an organisation - let’s start with measuring outcomes.
Impostor Syndrome
Apart from the fact that I am never sure whether it’s spelt with an e or an o, to label yourself an imposter/impostor is to negate all that defines you, that makes you ‘you’. You don’t have to be a great public speaker to tell your truth on a stage or always enter a room with all the answers. Vulnerability is a gift you give others because it opens the doors of human connection. Women, in particular, are actively encouraged to rid themselves of a syndrome they should never have lumbered themselves with in the first place. There is no need to believe you are incompetent, to doubt your abilities or call yourself a fraud. You can be humble without any of that self-flagellation. There are some things you are good at, some things you are not good at, some things you just need to get better at. Learn to tell the difference. Or find a friend who is completely honest with you. And, if you can, make a concerted effort to tell others when they do good stuff, everyone, no matter who they are, needs that boost.
Drains
There are drains and there are radiators. It is unfortunate that some people light up a room whereas others suck every last bit of energy out of it. There are some colleagues you will duck into doorways to avoid or pretend you don’t see until they are right up under your nose. They bring an aura of impending doom as they approach you in the canteen. A drain on Zoom is almost unbearable. Often, it is not their fault, it is just the personality they were born with. But you cannot cure them, so you need to limit your contact with them.
Being compliant
Compliancy is why things change so desperately slowly. Being compliant is also incredibly boring unless it is legally mandated. At times, like a docile animal, I have accepted injustice, obeyed authority, feigned politeness, smiled graciously, stayed silent, not talked back. But to what end? It just meant nothing changed and I got resentful. There are no compliant trailblazers - think of how Baroness Shirley Williams who passed away this week aged 90 has been described because of her refusal to accept the status quo in British politics. Remember, ‘yes men’ are rarely mentioned in the history books. Change does not happen through committees or policies or processes. It happens because enough people stop being so passively compliant. If every single one of us refused to attend pointless meetings, there wouldn’t be any.
My mother in my head
I don’t know if there is much else to say here other than if you have your mother in your head, you will understand exactly what I mean.
Saving the best…
Mine is Jasper Conran circa 2000 from Debenhams. If you are of a certain vintage, it will be Denby, in blue. A lot of us have wedding dinner services we have never used. Every piece of mine remains beautifully intact, untouched, safely enclosed in a cupboard, locked away. It has moved house thrice with me. It is too good for Christmas. This is ludicrous - what am I saving it for? What occasion will it ever be worthy of? For you, it may not be a set of bone china or crystal glasses, but you could be saving your best something for some day that may never come. Don’t do that, have a picnic in the garden with the Denby, wear the finery to Tesco, bring your genius and talents out into the light.
Debbie
As a shy seventeen-year-old, on day one of my first summer office job, I was paraded round all the desks (across three floors) and introduced as ….Debbie. I repeatedly swallowed, I tried to pluck up the courage, I prayed for a voice but still the words would not come. I desperately wanted to say, “My name is Deborah”. For five years, I was Debbie, the imposter/impostor. I missed my chance to correct it. I have grown up a lot since then so please do not take offence if I correct you now when you call me Debbie. I’m not being rude. I am entitled to use my rightful name. Plus, don’t be a Debbie - there’s a message here about not missing those chances!
And so, there is a strange dawning of enlightenment that comes with a once in a century pandemic coinciding with a mid-life crisis. It has encouraged me to consider what I will no longer put with. When we put up with people or places or things that reduce us, we silently endure. And that is no life. I, for one, am ready for post-pandemic liberation! Are you?
