Beyond 'Strengths': When Well-Meaning Advice Misses the Mark

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

"Maybe you should do something that suits you better" is one of the most hurtful things anyone has ever said to me.

I've had to absorb those words twice.

First time I was an undergraduate student wrestling with a course that made no sense to me. The professor lost interest quickly in my failed attempts to understand and the complete mental block I was experiencing.

The second time I was at work, just coming back to my senses after a full-on panic attack during an unfriendly meeting. I had paused mid sentence, heart jumping out of my body, unable to move, speak or think.

On both occasions I was relieved that people thought I was stupid or incompetent rather than melting down.

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I write to help survivors of childhood adversity become more optimistic about themselves and their future. If you enjoy Trauma At Work please spread the word.

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The memory of that inopportune advice still stings. Growing up I had internalised several self-defeating messages, all sounding dangerously similar to what was ringing in my ears again. You're not good enough. We don't want you here. There's no help for you. You will always be alone.

Perhaps that's why I've never been a big fan of the idea of a person-job fit or the strengths-based approach to career advice.

A lot of conventional career counselling and coaching is built around the idea that we should choose paths that will involve applying our strongest skills. Doing the things that we find easy or pleasurable.

The implicit message is also, avoid friction. Do not put yourself in situations where you are doing worse than others, or experiencing constant discomfort.

Wait, that kind of makes sense.

I hear you. The framework has its merits. A young, aspiring musician should not be pushed by parents to become a mediocre doctor. And if you're good with numbers and maths club was your happy place in school then going into a job where excellence depends on reasoning and data fluency is probably a good idea.

And yet that never quite cut the mustard for me.

By the time I was a student I had already sensed that I was different than my peers. I had some clear strengths but I was also lacking skills that put me at a disadvantage in class and outside of it. I was uneven. But the idea of just taking that as a fixed input and designing my life around those gaps never crossed my mind.

I wasn't great at some things, yet.

See, we trauma survivors were forged in fire. We are creatures of unspeakable resilience and perseverance. We are here because we endured and we can put tremendous work into things others take for granted.

And once we learn to put that tremendous capacity for effort into goals that serve us, there isn't much that we cannot become.

Something tells me you didn't take the advice and change course.

Correct. Instead I persevered.

The obstacles I faced along the way became nagging questions that demanded answers. Friends and books gradually provided the information, guidance and safe spaces where I could begin to recognise my blind spots and sow the seeds of new capabilities.

I didn't need a pat on the head or a nudge to the door. I needed someone to slow down with me and encourage me to try again, perhaps in a different way.

You make it sound so easy.

None of this was easy. In fact, I remember it being excruciatingly hard. Between you and I, I may have secretly given up once or twice. But after a while I got back at it, then quit again, and back again and… here I am. A bit like parenting, you have some good days and lots of bad days and you keep going hoping it will all be worth it eventually.

I'm still work in progress in a lot of ways (just ask my husband). I'm slow and average at so many things - for now. But I am great compared to where I started, and that's enough for me. And who knows where I'll be in 10 years if I just keep at it?

Thanks for tuning in,

Adina