True Story
by David Hoffman
There was a time years ago, in high school and college, when I felt awkward, repulsive and worthless. I had a hard time talking to strangers because I imagined that they must resent me for taking up their time and space, and for the shame of being seen with me. The harshness with which I judged myself was not particularly rational, but so what? It was how I felt, and felt, and felt.
I did well in my classes and got elected to a couple of leadership positions, and those achievements became the basis for the story I started to tell myself to make myself less miserable. The achievements were just performances, but I began to imagine that they embodied my hidden worth. I maintained a 4.0 GPA throughout high school, and each exam became a test of the new story I was telling myself, on which everything now hinged.
I think a lot of us experience some version of what I did back then, albeit unconsciously. We tell ourselves stories that tie our worth to our performances, and then feel like imposters, vulnerable to being exposed if a performance slips. I think a lot of self-destructive or otherwise inexplicable behavior comes from that kind of thinking: Sticking with a major we don’t like in order to hold on to an image of ourselves as an achiever or a dutiful son or daughter; bullying others in order to cling to a sense of ourselves as strong and respected. When I was working in nonprofit organizations before coming to UMBC, I met some people who clung so hard to visions of themselves as altruistic heroes that they were not open to questioning the effectiveness or impact of their efforts. In state and national elections, many people seem to cast their votes for the candidates who affirm the stories they are already telling themselves about their own identities and worth, and feel unreasoning hatred toward the candidates who call those stories into question.
There is another way to live: With authenticity, humility and openness, and a bedrock understanding that our intrinsic worth does not depend on meeting our marks in some grandiose performance. But how can one achieve that kind of perspective? I can’t say I know for certain or for everyone, but what made all the difference for me, as I became more whole and real over the years, and grew to be less afraid, were environments in which I could lower my guard and be myself: vulnerable and incomplete, and yet powerful and valuable, all at the same time. It happened in the context of close friendships; during vacations and other timeouts from my everyday circumstances; and in the context of collaborative projects in which my contributions blended with others, each input necessary but insufficient on its own, in which the whole exceeded the sum of the parts.
A part of what I find so wonderful and compelling about UMBC is that we seem to do well at creating environments in which it’s possible to be real: to write a new story of self that isn’t just about performances. One of the many places that happens is at STRiVE, the week-long student leadership retreat hosted by Student Life and SGA. At the latest STRiVE, over the winter break, 61 people who had mostly been strangers to each other rapidly created a community in which the participants and coaches alike could explore their talents, discover shared passions, and give and receive honest feedback. I love that at UMBC we define leadership partly as the skill and commitment to co-create just that kind of community.
Where are you finding the thread of your own real story at UMBC? Let’s keep helping each other discover and experience our value beyond performances, by sharing and co-creating spaces that set us free.
Co-Create UMBC is a blog for and about UMBC, written by David Hoffman and Craig Berger from Student Life. Join the Co-Create UMBC group on MyUMBC. Like Co-Create UMBC on Facebook. And follow David and Craig on Twitter.
There was a time years ago, in high school and college, when I felt awkward, repulsive and worthless. I had a hard time talking to strangers because I imagined that they must resent me for taking up their time and space, and for the shame of being seen with me. The harshness with which I judged myself was not particularly rational, but so what? It was how I felt, and felt, and felt.
I did well in my classes and got elected to a couple of leadership positions, and those achievements became the basis for the story I started to tell myself to make myself less miserable. The achievements were just performances, but I began to imagine that they embodied my hidden worth. I maintained a 4.0 GPA throughout high school, and each exam became a test of the new story I was telling myself, on which everything now hinged.
I think a lot of us experience some version of what I did back then, albeit unconsciously. We tell ourselves stories that tie our worth to our performances, and then feel like imposters, vulnerable to being exposed if a performance slips. I think a lot of self-destructive or otherwise inexplicable behavior comes from that kind of thinking: Sticking with a major we don’t like in order to hold on to an image of ourselves as an achiever or a dutiful son or daughter; bullying others in order to cling to a sense of ourselves as strong and respected. When I was working in nonprofit organizations before coming to UMBC, I met some people who clung so hard to visions of themselves as altruistic heroes that they were not open to questioning the effectiveness or impact of their efforts. In state and national elections, many people seem to cast their votes for the candidates who affirm the stories they are already telling themselves about their own identities and worth, and feel unreasoning hatred toward the candidates who call those stories into question.
There is another way to live: With authenticity, humility and openness, and a bedrock understanding that our intrinsic worth does not depend on meeting our marks in some grandiose performance. But how can one achieve that kind of perspective? I can’t say I know for certain or for everyone, but what made all the difference for me, as I became more whole and real over the years, and grew to be less afraid, were environments in which I could lower my guard and be myself: vulnerable and incomplete, and yet powerful and valuable, all at the same time. It happened in the context of close friendships; during vacations and other timeouts from my everyday circumstances; and in the context of collaborative projects in which my contributions blended with others, each input necessary but insufficient on its own, in which the whole exceeded the sum of the parts.
A part of what I find so wonderful and compelling about UMBC is that we seem to do well at creating environments in which it’s possible to be real: to write a new story of self that isn’t just about performances. One of the many places that happens is at STRiVE, the week-long student leadership retreat hosted by Student Life and SGA. At the latest STRiVE, over the winter break, 61 people who had mostly been strangers to each other rapidly created a community in which the participants and coaches alike could explore their talents, discover shared passions, and give and receive honest feedback. I love that at UMBC we define leadership partly as the skill and commitment to co-create just that kind of community.
Where are you finding the thread of your own real story at UMBC? Let’s keep helping each other discover and experience our value beyond performances, by sharing and co-creating spaces that set us free.
Co-Create UMBC is a blog for and about UMBC, written by David Hoffman and Craig Berger from Student Life. Join the Co-Create UMBC group on MyUMBC. Like Co-Create UMBC on Facebook. And follow David and Craig on Twitter.
Posted: February 2, 2014, 4:50 PM