What Do You Do When All the World's a Hammer?
There is an adage from one of the GOATs of psych, Abraham Maslow. Way back in 1966, Maslow wrote in The Psychology of Science: A Renaissance:
"I suppose it is tempting, if the only tool you have is a hammer, to treat everything as if it were a nail."
While ol’ Abe is perhaps more famous for his Hierarchy of Needs, this little ditty is a personal favorite. Sometimes called the "Law of the Instrument," I much prefer "Maslow's Hammer.” It’s way more badass. My supreme desire is to contribute something to this world with enough significance to earn the moniker "Schenk's Hammer.”
Anywhooooo… Maslow’s Hammer describes a tendency to become so comfortable with the tool we're used to using, that we start to see it as the best tool for every job. It would be like a professional barbecuer deciding the best way to deliver a baby is by using wiener tongs. (For the record, I do not want Schenk’s Hammer to describe wiener tong birthing.)
It's a cognitive bias that overvalues what we already know—rather than evaluating if what we know is enough.
I love it because it portrays two dueling elements of my personality in vivid technicolor. There’s the part that is always seeking a quick, effective cure-all for problems—sort of like psychological duct tape. And then there’s the part that wants to learn everything about every subject literally all the time.
The friction between these opposing forces is a catalyst for both the ideas that make me feel like the smartest person who has ever lived, as well as the ideas that make me feel like the world is too. damn. big. and will swallow me whole unless I clamp my eyelids shut and keep them that way for all eternity. So, ya know, it’s a nice balance.
Lately, though, I've been experiencing the inverse of this. I’m using all the tools in my belt but not making much progress—as though all the world's a hammer, and I'm the only nail in sight. Now I’m trying to figure out which mallet-wielding god I managed to piss off enough to bring about this cosmic game of whack-a-mole.
This disturbance in the force has left the Bold Introvert blog in a state of paralysis. While it has been all-consuming, discussing it runs counter to my cardinal rule:
I don’t write about my struggles until after I’m through them.
I genuinely respect people who are honest about the sludge they've waded through. I’m far more willing to receive guidance from someone who has battled The Hard and lived to tell the tale than from someone curating a veneer to make it all look easy. Stories of overnight success don’t impress me the way stories of against-the-odds tenacity do. What can I say? I’m a sucker for the underdogs.
But the idea of complaining—of giving voice to The Hard without offering anything else—makes me feel like there are cockroaches skittering around under under my skin. 🤢
Airing my dirty laundry does nothing to get it clean, it only subjects others to the funk. So I have a policy of discussing the difficult stuff only after I've figured out how to lift the stains. Sharing how I removed the ballpoint ink and cat puke (Hairspray for the former, baking soda for the latter. You're welcome.) might just help someone else out too.
That's not to say I don't whine to some people (sorry, Mom) when I'm stuck in the suck. But when you're a coach with a platform dedicated to personal improvement and growth, struggling more *ahem* boldly can seem like a liability.
Ostensibly, people turn to those in my line of work because our ducks are in nice, neat rows. Not because they’re flapping around all willy-nilly, crapping on our pancakes.
It can be isolating. And it’s why it has taken almost a year to write this post. (wut?)
I started off 2022 intending to make it all about confidence. I had posts written. I had a course outlined. I had collaborations in the works. It was a whole thing!
Until it wasn't.
To kick-off this year o’ confidence I wrote a blog I wrote about FOOO—a play on FOMO and JOMO—that stands for the Fear Of Opting Out. It was meant to be a part one of two. I never published the second part.
Part two had the lead singer and guitarist for the Foo Fighters, Dave Grohl, as a prime example of how to fight FOOO. (Yes, I did think myself very clever for all this.) But before I published it, the band’s drummer, Taylor Hawkins, passed away suddenly before a show. I tried, but I couldn't work out how to rewrite the post in a way that held on to its original intent while also expressing due respect. So I didn't publish it. Or anything else.
The longer I went without publishing something, the harder it became to do it.
As an introvert, I’ve been known to utilize the Irish Goodbye, but I felt I owed an explanation for my unceremonious disappearance. The problem was I didn't know how to give one without breaking my cardinal rule. Thus the FOOO I’d been preparing to help others fight socked me in the teeth. It was a knockout punch.
If we accept the aphorism, then the only way out is through. I’ve decided to test that theory here.
Without going into detail (I’m gonna start with bending the rule rather than breaking it), the past 18-ish months have been rough. One health problem after the next, relentless logistical roadblocks, painful relationship trials. It’s been a deluge of “OH YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!” moments.
I’m not out of it yet. I think I see the proverbial light. That, or I really need to clean my glasses...
I’d been holding myself to a different standard than I would anyone else. I believed that because I possess so many useful tools, I should be able to deftly handle any and all problemsf that arose. I wasn't prepared for an army of them to arise at once.
Don’t get me wrong, the strategies I'm using—many of the same ones I help my coaching clients with—are working. But when all the world's a hammer, it can take some time to see the results.
As far as I’m aware, none of these problems are going to kill me. I 10000000% am not seeking pity nor trying to claim I have it worse than anyone else. N.O.P.E.
My hope is simply to convey that I'm struggling. That everyone struggles. Even coaches who have all these tools struggle.
I hope that being transparent about the struggle—without waving any stanky laundry in your direction—might help too. That communicating the motions while I'm going through them is also useful.
In truth, many of the systems I put in place to carry me and my business through the pandemic served that purpose, but aren't sustainable in the long run. I don't currently have the stamina to produce at the level I had been. I have to re-assess and re-organize. I hope doing so will relieve some FOOOcking pressure and make some space to create something better.
If the last year and a half has shown me anything, it's that white-knuckling it isn’t going to cut in. SO I’m trying to make the next phase of moving through The Hard a little less… well… hard.
Here's what I'm proposing: I'm going to write. It might be super on-topic introvert and personal development stuff, or it might be something else altogether. It might be witty and contain mega doses of snark, or it might be a bit raw and unpolished. It might be every week, or it might be... not that.
I adore Wait But Why's tagline: new post every sometimes. (Very on-brand for a blog famous for talking about procrastination.) I think I’ll adopt that one for the time being.
The Bold Introvert blog was never intended to be a one-way conversation. I want to know if what I'm proposing is something you want to be a part of. So hit reply and let me know if you’re down for this grab bag of content. Or if you’re up for it, let me know what’s going on in your life. Where are you struggling? What have your victories been?
I'd love for you to come along for this ride. (Virtual Dramamine is available upon request.)
All my best and boldest,
Angela