Back to school lessons, there is no one like you. sent

It’s back-to-school time where I live in San Francisco. In recent days, I’ve seen the social media posts from friends and family with updates on new haircuts and pictures featuring new backpacks. The days are getting shorter and the nights are getting longer, the shifting of seasons is underway along with the turning of the calendar days and these rites of passage.

I remember that first day of school feeling as a kid—the quintessential in-between experience as I anticipated soon missing the long, unstructured summer days and simultaneously craved a return to learning, friends, and teachers. My mom always tucked a note into our lunch box on the first day of school. I’d look forward to seeing what she wrote—her familiar handwriting and reassuring text.

I carried this tradition on for my kids. For the many years we prepped for back-to-school, writing their school lunch note was part of the ritual of return. One of the LoveYou2 signs was born from this back-to-school note in the lunch box: There is no one like you.

It was a back-to-school season that included one kid beginning middle school and this child worried about fitting in and finding their place. So real and so tender, a familiar experience for many life transitions it turns out.

There is no one like you.

Even as you try to fit in, desperate to stand out: There is no one like you.

Not in any corner of this city, anywhere in this country, or any place in the entire world is there anyone like you.

Being you takes guts. It takes finesse. It requires courage. So no one else could do it. Only you.  Only you could take on this role and fill these shoes being the amazing creature you are.

We are lucky to know you since there is no one like you. 

PS - This just in: The year looks shiny and bright! 

A few weeks ago, I led an in-person training for a department where team members carry caseloads and provide frontline-facing services to the community. The training was focused on showing up with empathy and avoiding burnout.

In-person trainings are something I treasure. There is so much possibility with in-person training for deepening intimacy, creating connection and with this connection the potential for changing minds, building skills, and practicing repair. Because in-person opportunities are more rare and the potential so deep, I enjoy creating high-value experiences that are not easily replicable in online platforms or trainings. 

During this particular training, I led an exercise where participants worked to define their why, then shared this in pairs, and then shared it back with the group. (Knowing our why can help ground us in the hard work of developing the infrastructure needed to stay the course in challenging times.) As the group share began, I felt time bend—everything slowed down to the pace of pure presence. 

One by one, participants shared pieces of their origin stories, their whys connected to different community needs, pivotal life experiences, and mentors who invested in or believed in them.

There was also another interesting theme—each person shared that they did not feel like they deserved or belonged in this department or role. Each person had a story of being an outsider, needing to overcome a real or perceived barrier to not belonging, and still actively choosing the work because of their unique why. To be sure, this department's rich diversity is one of its greatest strengths—the wide range of backgrounds and skills adds to its overall ability, flexibility, and capacity.

In not being like the others and not belonging, the individual assets of this group are deep and varied.

As time was bent and we were all so very present with these tender and powerful shares, I thought of the “There is no one like you” note I’d written years ago to my kids.

There is something poignant about believing or feeling that we don’t belong and continuing to show up, to do the work we feel called to do anyway. While holding space for this training, it was a gift to be a part of the vulnerability and observe the department hold space for their similarity in experiencing not belonging. 

It’s a bit strange for me, back-to-school season this year. For over two decades, I have been actively engaged in back-to-school preparations from the first days of Kindergarten to gathering supplies for a first apartment at college. Most years, after I’ve completed the school drop off I’ve had a good cry in my car before carrying on for the work day. Or, as it turned out, the year I miscalculated how deep my feelings would be when I dropped my oldest off for college and I bawled through an in-person work meeting the next day (I’m bonded for life with these colleagues, so grateful).

There is something powerful about revisiting the “There is no one like you” love note myself right now. I’ve transitioned into my own new career phase—working full-time for the people, devoting myself to creativity and compassion. At least once a day, as I work on building the offerings and programs to be the greatest service, I’ll encounter that worry that I don’t belong, that I’m too late, or that I’m not enough.

Then, there will be the moment in the training I described above when time bends. Or a moment with a coaching client where a question I pose creates a profound shift. Or I’ll write something that I feel proud enough to push publish on. I’ve learned to capture these subtle signs and take them as feedback to keep going.

Just like my kid who went to school with the note in the lunch box even when they worried if they would fit in, just like the team sharing vulnerably about not believing they belonged but doing the work because there is no one else like them to do it, I’m going to keep going, too.

How do you keep going with the work even when you don’t feel like you belong?

There is no one like you.