That time I wore a tech shirt to a yoga retreat
My world tends to be compartmented, and I tend to like it that way. At work, I'm focused on work. At home, I'm focused on my kids and family. Of course the pandemic blew all that wonderful compartmentalization up, but that's not what this post is about.
Back in the before times, I lived in a community with a wonderful yoga studio. That yoga studio saved my life a number of times. After my dad died, my yoga practice was the primary place where I found healing. Crying during downward dog makes for some messy but real healing. After my daughter was born, I took a Mommy and Me yoga class where I met friends who would save my life over and over again in those tough early years of parenting. By then I was in it more for the friendships than the yoga to be honest.
One of the fabulous instructors at the yoga studio started offering life coach offerings and workshops and I was fully there for it. She hosted a weekly workshop where I first learned the concept that saying 'yes' to something means saying 'no' to something else. Revolutionary for the me who had signed up for everything from helping with a CoderDojo youth programming class to building out a feminist makerspace to raising two young children. Her course helped me get clear about what I had energy for and the fact that my energy was (and is) a finite resource. So when she announced a weekend retreat up in the mountains (ok hills) of Maryland, I signed up right away.
The retreat was all about shadow selves and uncovering the parts of yourself that you hide or shy away from. There were some thoughtful writing exercises and some deep conversations, but it was a worlds colliding moment during the retreat that stands out most in my memory.
On the second day, during some downtime, a few of us were puzzling over a puzzle and chatting about what had brought us there. A woman turned to me and asked
"Do you work as a therapist?"
As an introverted nerd, this is perhaps the career path furthest from the one I chose, so I was quite confused. I replied 'no' and spent the next few moments wondering where the question had come from. I'm a pretty left-brained person and tend to associate therapists with folks wearing Hawaiian shirts like Doctor Jacoby in Twin Peaks.
I wondered aloud what made her think that I was a therapist.
She pointed to my sweatshirt and said "I thought maybe you were a research psychologist, researching vulnerability, I mean your shirt says "Vulnerability Research Labs."
It took me a beat to first make the connection and then another to realize the disconnection. First I burst out laughing, but then I attempted to explain.
"Oh, this shirt is from my job, you're right about that part, but its a different kind of vulnerability. I work in cybersecurity, so when we talk about vulnerability it means a flaw or weakness in software."
"A weakness? But haven't you seen Brene Brown's TED talk? Vulnerability is a super power."
From here we dove into how messed up my default definition of vulnerability as a flaw was. This conversation opened my mind to how small my world had become by only hanging out with other cybersecurity folks. It was a reminder to get outside my bubble, get outside the world of tech a bit more often.
To go outside your comfort zones can mean learning to laugh at what you take so seriously. I had taken it as an insult that I was in a 'soft' profession when I had worked so hard to prove myself in the realm of tech, particularly as a woman. But there are entire worlds out that that have nothing to do with tech that are full of interesting and exciting discoveries. Everything from jazz dance lessons to rowing lessons to gardening. And I'm so glad I've opened up myself to all of it.
