Just got back from Song and Story, Tarzan’s storytelling retreat, and I’m exhausted in the best way.

I don’t love networking events, especially when I don’t really know what to expect. So, 20 minutes into the two hour drive I told Caleb I didn’t want to go. And, bless him he gave me an out.

“Tell you what,” he said, “if at any point in the next 30 mins you say ‘car trouble’ I’ll turn the car around and we’ll go home.”

We talked about it for another 15 minutes before I decided to just do it.

3 full days sitting in a circle with 14 other business owners, digging deep into what drives us, and what stops us. Telling stories and singing, and singing, and singing.

The singing was the best part.

Music has a way of getting shit moving and singing in community can break you open and fit you back together so you reach the end of the song stronger and clearer and desperately needing a nap.

I can’t believe I almost didn’t go. Thank goodness I did.

I’ve been working on my messaging a lot lately, really trying to hone in on why anyone would want to work with me over anyone else.

And just before the retreat, I had a breakthrough.

I figured out something about how I approach operations that makes me really fricking good at what I do.

And then, of course, came the self-doubt.

Who am I to say that? Is it really that special? Surely other people do this too.

Turns out, figuring out what makes you good at something and being comfortable saying it out loud are two very different things.

During one of the exercises at Song & Story, we broke into groups of five and took turns helping each other work through whatever we were struggling with. Afterwards, all four people in my group came up to thank me for the insights and questions I'd asked. They told me how I got to the heart of what they were struggling with and helped them figure out what to do next.

And it kept happening.

Throughout the weekend, people kept bringing up things I'd said or ways I'd helped them see something differently. Even Tarzan, who I worked with for the last 10 years, kept telling everyone how good I am at what I do.

Every time someone said something nice, I felt uncomfortable accepting it. But there was also a little part of me going, "Ooh, maybe I really am good at this." The more I heard it, the harder it got to dismiss.

So here's what I figured out.

Most operations people will look at an automation that's not working, find a form field that should have been required but wasn't, and figure out that people skipping that field is what's breaking the whole thing.

They fix the field, let the business know what happened, and move on.

Not me.

Sure, I find the same issue and solution, but I take it one step further. I ask why no one on the team spotted it. And if they did spot it, why it didn’t get fixed.

Because it’s never just a tech problem.

Does the person in charge of the set up understand it? Do they know how it works? Do they know how to trouble shoot? Do they know that trouble shooting and fixing it are part of their job description? Were they made aware that the issue was happening? Has the technology itself just been unreliable?

Depending on the answers to these questions we might find that the tiny tech issue is actually a training issue, or hiring issue, or leadership issue. Or that the technology is simply not doing what it's supposed to do.

And that's why you want me auditing your systems. I'm looking for more than just the things that are broken.

I'm not just thorough. I see the connections others miss, so we're not just fixing the symptom of a larger problem. We fix the actual problem.

I've known for a long time that this is how my brain works, but I haven't always known how to explain why it matters or felt particularly comfortable claiming it as something that makes me different.

On our last day at the retreat, we were asked what we wanted to leave behind.

We'd been journaling, and then we each went for a walk alone in the woods to think about our answers.

I decided I was leaving behind the self-doubt. The feeling that I'm somehow not good enough, that I should be doing more, or making a bigger impact.

Because, throughout the whole weekend, people had been showing me that what I already do makes a difference.

And I'd really like to stop arguing with them about it.

I came home exhausted, grateful, and with a little more faith in myself.

I'm really glad I didn't turn that car around.

xo,
Sandra

🎶I'm comin' home to the wisdom in my bones. In my bones.

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