What do Michael Keaton and I have in common?

I don't actually mean you. I meant me. I did it wrong. Not ALL of it, but certainly some of it. And maybe you are, too...

Despite the fact that that line (You're doing it wrong!) came from the movie Mr. Mom, pointing out that the daddy was doing school drop-off/pick-up incorrectly, I’ve come to realize that being the mommy doesn’t give you any better instincts. Forget parenting, just being a human can be difficult to comprehend some days.

You can see why I’ve been in therapy more than once in my lifetime.

Turns out my first hurdle was mommy vs. daddy in a bout of marriage counseling. What I learned is that I’m one of those people who does it all. Sometimes because I have to, when there’s no one else willing to share the load. And sometimes because in my head, it’s just easier and faster to do it myself instead of explaining it to someone else. Or because I shouldn’t have to ask, so I don’t. Or because I know I’ll do it the way I want it done – and isn’t that really better anyway?

As you can see, I had work to do.

After working with my therapist on this for a while, she turned to me and said, “Ok, you’ve made so much progress...now...you do know you have the same relationship with your job that you had in your marriage?”

I wasn’t sure how to react to that. Slap her. Curse her. Go home and cry. Or just sit there staring at her with my mouth wide open...which is what I did.

In all these years, that comment has never left my brain. It’s something that caused a shift in the way I handle myself in all my relationships, both personally and professionally. The big takeaway for me is that I take on too much. I do the work of many people, and not always because they aren’t willing or capable.

The hardest part, perhaps, is trust. I had to learn to trust that other people are willing and capable. Trust that when asked to perform they will rise to the task. Trust that, while things might not always be done the way I would do them, it doesn’t mean it’s been done incorrectly or poorly.

The exciting part is that when you have good people, and you learn to trust them to do the work you need from them, you can accomplish so much more. AND not get burnt out in the process.

Enough with the martyrdom, the self-sacrifice. I realized that my tendency to take constant action, was breeding inaction among others in my organization. All it takes is one “I’ll just do it all myself” go-getter leading a nonprofit to lead a board into dysfunction.

And while there’s definitely shared blame – board members should have been pushing back, demanding to be given the opportunity to fulfill the role they volunteered to do – I took my role very seriously. I did a LOT of things right, but this was something I had to admit I did not.

What brought it all home for me, was reading Kenneth Blanchard’s book The One Minute Manager Meets the Monkey. If you’ve ever read any of Ken’s books, you’ll note that they’re all very slim, easy reads. He does his best to stay on point and be brief. In this particular book he teaches managers to stop taking on tasks that belong to other people. While it may, in fact, be your circus, it doesn’t mean that they’re all your monkeys.

Immediately after reading that book, I had a conversation with my board. With 16 pairs of eyes on me, I straightened up my spine and told them that I was finished with doing the jobs of 17 people. From that point on I was only going to perform my job, as described in our organizational handbook. I asked them to please reread (or read for the first time, as the case may be) the handbook. My job was to carry out the plans and decisions of the board, to support the committees and to direct the organization in a way that best suited our mission. In the absence of their planning, decision-making and forming and keeping our committees populated with engaged volunteers, I actually had very little to do.

It was a turning point. It was shocking. Many were displeased. The few who got it – those were the people I knew I could trust. Those were the board members who were there to serve. The rest were there to sit.

This was the point at which I ceased to be an administrator and began to truly become a manager and a leader. This was when I began to see what needed to happen for my organization to succeed. By giving myself a break from taking on tasks that were the responsibility of others, I was able to have a much better view of the bigger picture.