The Tyranny of the Unfamiliar
Recently, I brought a situation to my coach because I was concerned I might be facing an ethical dilemma.
As we worked through it together, it became clear I was actually on solid ground.
What I was experiencing wasn't an ethics issue. It was just discomfort.
What's interesting is that I've sat with plenty of discomfort over the years. Difficult conversations. Competing demands. Trying to get everyone on the same page. None of that felt this big.
As we kept talking, I realized the discomfort wasn't greater than what I'd experienced before.
It was simply unfamiliar.
The conversation left me wondering how often we interpret unfamiliar discomfort as a sign that something is wrong, when it may simply be evidence that we're operating in new territory.
That thought made me smile as it sent me back to one of my earliest lessons after moving from Florida to Alaska 19 years ago.
One of the first things I learned was how to dress for the weather.
I understood heat and humidity. I had no category in my mind for temperatures cold enough to make your face hurt.
Early on, someone told me that if I wanted to enjoy Alaska's long winters, I needed to get outside and stay active. So I did. Walks, hikes, and eventually runs in the chilly fall air. In the winter, a good treadmill kept me going.
One day a friend who was a runner asked what my outdoor cutoff was.
Without hesitation, I said 40 degrees.
She laughed.
When I asked hers, she said single digits.
A few years later, training for my first half-marathon left me no choice. My life-long Alaskan training partner introduced me to the full curriculum: preparation, proper materials, and better layers. We ran in temperatures I once would have considered impossible, returning to our cars with frozen eyelashes and frost-covered faces.
There were still days I came home chilled to the bone. That's what hot showers and tea were for.
At some point, I realized the change. With proper gear and planning, I could tolerate a wider range of conditions.
What once felt extreme gradually became normal.
That's the parallel that hit me during my coaching session.
The discomfort I was feeling wasn't a signal that something had gone wrong. It was simply unfamiliar. Just like I knew how to deal with heat and humidity and needed to learn how to deal with the cold and snow.
I knew how to navigate the familiar discomforts of difficult conversations, competing demands, and working to get people on the same page.
But this was different. It was a climate I hadn't navigated before.
Once I recognized that, I smiled. I knew this one. I needed to figure out how to operate in the new conditions.
In place of preparing with various materials, proper layering, and a warm up contingency, I created a plan.
- Expect the discomfort rather than being surprised by it.
- Accept it as part of operating in new territory.
- Be proactive and use the resources I already know.
- Pay attention to what needs calibration as I gain experience.
- Learn from experienced colleagues, mentors, and friends.
- When I inevitably get chilled, I have a way to warm back up - a debrief with a trusted person, a safe place to process.
When weather, a new role, or something else brings unfamiliar discomfort, the question to answer is "How do I prepare, adapt, and recover?"
Reflection:
When you're operating in unfamiliar territory, what are your equivalents of good weather gear, proper layering, and a warm-up plan?
Responses