The Right Way
“No one's normal. It just looks that way from across the street.”
I recently started working with an executive coach in order to start bringing intention and strategy to my professional path. My Second Act. One of the first exercises we did was revisit my values. The idea is to define the values that guide your decisions, anchor your priorities, and help you navigate life with clarity.
I got hung up on my desire to show up in life a certain way. For instance, it’s important to me that my kids (and I) greet, respond to, and address people a certain way. My coach and I toyed with “politeness,” “manners,” and “diplomacy.” Of course, no one is perfect, but having a sort of North Star for this kind of thing matters - to me. For instance, I would like my children, when addressed by an adult, to respond in kind. Does it happen all the time, or will it become a norm overnight? Probably not. Do I always show up the way I want to? Nope.
The exercise took a few weeks (because, life), and it was kind of hard to isolate one of my 2-3 values to manners. Politeness and manners seemed small and tactical, particularly when juxtaposed with “hope” and “service.” Ultimately, I landed on “dignity,” “integrity,” and “faith.” I included integrity because I think it’s important to show up in life in a way that is true to yourself, in a way of which you can be proud. And this looks different for all of us.
In HBO’s “DTF St. Louis,” two different characters said, “No one's normal. It just looks that way from across the street.”
There are social norms, and then there are the ways in which we show up, and everything sits along a spectrum. Things seem more or less normal depending on where we are, who we’re around, what we are going through, and what we’ve endured. I spent my entire life being a good girl and striving to be a well-adjusted member of society. To be polite, use my manners, reply to and address people appropriately. Be someone about whom people may say, “Her parents raised her well.”
I’ve really only faced one true tragedy in my life - losing my husband - and it was through this experience that I leaned solely on myself. I didn’t look to norms or expectations to inform how I was going to show up. As I’ve written before, I simply knew how I was going to show up: showered, dressed, and honest. People in my community would say, “I am sorry, I really don’t know what to say,” and I would respond, “It’s really okay - neither do I!” And it was true. Not knowing was honest for both of us and, most of the time, actually the most comforting.
This afternoon I learned of another family suffering the very recent loss of a parent. I reached out to the community member who was garnering support for the survivors. I told her that if there was any way I could support the surviving spouse, in addition to the opportunities laid out for us, that it would be a standing offer on my end. She shared with me some details and then added:
“I’m always inspired by how you navigated/shared your journey after your husband passed. It was unimaginable. You might not see it, but every time I see you, it is almost palpable how much of a grounded energy you emit. It’s as if your heart shines outside of your body. I know it may not feel like it every day…but you’re truly inspiring for so many of us.”
I really didn’t know what to say, and I told her as much, adding that her words meant the world to me and that I’d like to find words adequate to express my gratitude for reading them. When you’re left to be the only/main rock for your kids, it’s too easy to second-guess every word, every move. Yet, in my particular journey, it was almost as though there wasn’t space or time to second-guess. A lot of my days felt truly divinely led (a la “Footprints in the Sand”). Hearing from someone that I emit grounding energy and am inspiring is beyond a compliment or validation; it brings life and meaning to how I’m showing up and the kind of person I’m choosing to be.
So, what the hell am I even getting at?!
We are so much wiser than we think we are. When we strip ourselves of norms and expectations, we become real. And “real” is honest and beautiful (unless, of course, you have a personality disorder). It’s in honesty that we become magnetic. But honesty without integrity can be careless. And manners without honesty can be hollow.
The Right Way, at least for me, is not about choosing one over the other. It’s about holding both. It’s about showing up with respect for others while staying rooted in truth within yourself. It’s about saying the polite thing when it’s right, but also saying the honest thing when it matters.
Integrity is the bridge. It’s what allows us to move through the world with both grace and truth. It’s what turns manners into something meaningful, and honesty into something constructive. It’s what makes how we show up feel aligned and not performative.
And maybe that’s the point of all of this. The Right Way isn’t something we’re taught or something we perfectly execute. It’s something we choose, moment by moment.
It’s how we (finally) show up as ourselves.
