How to Show Up
On not flaking, & the importance of waiting for Sisi
Mary Margaret and I have been sitting on the park bench in downtown Sofia, Bulgaria, for three hours.
Long enough for the banitsa papers and sunflower seed husks to accumulate around our feet, blown by the Balkan breeze.
Even as the sun goes down, it's pleasant weather, a beautiful late spring evening.
The children playing on the decrepit metal playground equipment have all gone home.
The old men playing chess at the cement tables have picked up their pieces and left their cigarette butts.
I’ve been waiting to pee, but the time for a bathroom is imminent.
Which means a visit to the disco tech cafe across the street.
There, I will squat over a stinking hole in the ground and try not to urinate on my jeans.
Mary Margaret will be alone while I'm gone, not the safest, so I'll hurry.
On the way back, I grab two foil-wrapped SNAKY croissants that were probably baked a year or two ago, judging from their staleness.
We sit and eat, feeding crumbs to the pigeons who are still milling about.
"I don't think she's coming," MM says, picking out the chocolate filling and eating it, even though chocolate gives her a headache.
Once, I had come across her, standing amid a stream of hundreds of people in the Sofia train station.
She was standing perfectly still, eyes closed, slowly eating a Twix bar. I had watched her for some minutes, taking in her pleasure.
Part of me wished it was me she was savoring.
"She'll be here.” I replied. “We have to wait."
‘She' is Sisi, our Peace Corps colleague.
We are all volunteers teaching English.
Bulgaria has been free of communist rule for three years.
We are there to bring them into the twentieth century by teaching teenagers Green Day lyrics.
In the days before cell phones or reliable telecommunications of any sort, we've developed a code: as young, 20-something women:
We wait for each other once we make a meeting.
Not only wait, but if you say you are coming, you are coming.
Because people are waiting for you.
You can't change your mind.
Things happen.
Trains are late or canceled.
Buses don't show up.
So, occasionally, our code doesn't work.
But for the most part, it keeps us all alive.
It's dark now, and a woman alone in the Sofia streets is prey.
Even two of us together aren't safe, but it's harder to kidnap two screaming, kicking bodies.
None of us will emerge from the experience without tales of horror.
But hopefully, tonight, Sisi will get here, and we can all go out dancing.
She's taking a train six hours to the capital city from the small town of Stara Zagora, where she's posted.
Suddenly, Sisi appears.
"Oh my god, I can't believe you are still here!"
We are all hugging and laughing, and the fear I've been feeling disappears.
"I'm so sorry!” she says. “The train I was supposed to take never came, and I had to wait for the local train, and it took forever! Thank you so much for waiting!"
Sisi is crying.
She is a survivor of a violent crime that happened in the US, one of the reasons she left.
Knowing her history, it felt extra essential to wait for her tonight.
"I'm buying the first round!" she announces.
If you understand this context, you'll likely know why I struggled when years later I moved to San Francisco and was submersed in Bay Area Flakiness (BAF).
If you have yet to experience BAF, let me educate you.
Living in the Bay and making friends is extremely difficult.
Everyone is so busy.
Everyone is scheduled out for three weeks.
People cancel all the time.
People wait until the last minute to decide what they will do that night to ensure they can do the very best thing.
Which might not be your birthday party.
There is so much going on all the time.
People are fucking flakey, and it's baked into the culture.
Perhaps this is also true in other big cities; I can't speak to it.
I hate to admit it, but I grew tired of being earnest and consistent after a while. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
Flakiness became my new black.
I tried it on. It felt gross but also strangely freeing.
Not trying to shame you, Bay Area, but when getting ready to flake, consider:
Will this event ever happen again?
Who will be impacted if I flake? In what ways?
What negative consequences might I face if I don't show up?
Do I want to support this thing in the world?
Why do I think it won't matter if I don't attend?
How do I feel about flakey people?
However, I am originally of the Midwest.
Salt of the Earth.
Hot dish, food trains.
Potlucks are places to shine, not drop off the baby carrots and hummus you picked up at Trader Joe's on the way over.
I value showing up.
My system relaxes when someone I care about is committed to showing up.
Remember the post when I talked about Fuck it as Fake Freedom?
Flaking is fake freedom.
Flaking is costly.
It costs trust with others and yourself, relationships, and integrity.
My desire to flake often happens when I have committed to something a while ago, and when the moment arrives, I don't have the energy to go.
This means that to align with my value of showing up, I had to become more careful about making commitments (like I used to be before the Bay got on me.)
This is not to say there are no moments we need to cancel plans.
Sometimes, we need to stay home, slow down, and rest.
It's more about being intentional in our lives.
Do you value showing up?
Do you value it enough to develop a more accurate assessment of your capacity beforehand?
This could sound like,
"I want to say yes to your invitation. And the truth is, I don't want to flake, so I need to wait and see how I feel that day.
“I understand this may not work for you. But honoring my commitments matters to me, so I am very careful with how I make them."
Choice practice for this week: Pause before yes. Before making a commitment, take a moment. Are you 95% sure you will keep this commitment?
Last week, you were invited to notice a ‘Fuck It’ moment you felt, and to explore what happened if you gently inquired about what your system was needing. What did you experience or learn from that practice? Comment here to answer.
The end of last week I was feeling overwhelmed, and rescheduled a talk I was supposed to giving in a very friendly venue this week. It was the thing that could give, and would keep me from blowing up other things. It was not quite enough (I was imagining being just a little too sick to proctor things Monday night), but it was the safety valve that has kept me able to meet the things I've said I'd do.
I was raised in an absolutely-no-quitting household, and it's taken time to identify that, and keep the parts that are valuable (we show up for the people we've committed to whenever we can), and jettison the parts that were more like setting myself on fire to keep others warm.
I feel so much less crazy about the Bay Area flakiness mentality and people’s lack of time or interest. I am so done taking it personally. Thank you, you’ve just freed me of so much wasted energy overthinking things!