Emotional resilience was the name of the game at my internship with a nonprofit in Washington D.C. With a focus on preventing sexual exploitation, horrific case studies and tearful testimonies were just another part of the job.
Although I had been warned of this before starting, the weighty material I encountered every day took a toll on me. I spent many of my first few Metro rides home fighting back tears. The faces of my fellow passengers became a blurry sea of shapes and colors as I reflected on the tragic stories I had heard.
With my eyes newly opened to how prevalent the issue was, and how deep the roots go, I became plagued with the idea that I was not doing enough. I found it difficult to find meaning in the sometimes menial tasks that seemingly lacked any connection to the issue.
As much as I believed in the ideas behind our movement, I wondered what good a small organization like ours could do in the face of such immense evil. I quickly understood why the turnover rate in the nonprofit sphere is so high.
One of the greatest comforts to me in the midst of this unfamiliar emotional turmoil was my incredible supervisor.
She was bright, bubbly, and brilliant. She brought an undeniable light to the office that both inspired and astounded me. As CEO, she amazed me with her ability to be so intimately involved and still steadfast in her optimism. She celebrated every single win, no matter how small, and proudly used each victory as evidence that our cause was indeed advancing in meaningful ways.
An incredibly busy woman, I was honored whenever I got even a moment of her time. Our relationship quickly moved to a first-name basis. Short meetings that were initially, strictly business, soon morphed into lively conversations, meandering from our shared faith, to the highs and lows of homeschooling children, to my educational and professional aspirations, to the next steps of our shared cause.
Each time Dawn had to cut our conversations short to meet with a senator, a survivor, or a significant donor, I was reminded how lucky I was to be part of this incredible cause.
I sought Dawn’s advice on staying positive amidst such negative information. I began implementing a few recommended strategies to combat the hopeless thinking. I took walks at lunch, made special efforts to connect with my coworkers, started a journal, and took advantage of our office’s meditation room.
I found myself slowly adapting to the challenges of the job with more confidence, and my emotional resilience grew. Not only was I able to handle the material better, I was a more productive employee now that I was celebrating little wins and working to see my role in the larger scheme of our organization’s important work.
I no longer felt guilty, or like I was holding the team back when I had questions or needed extra assistance. I was proud of the work I did and grateful for the opportunity to contribute to the cause, no matter how small the tasks I was assigned as an intern.
Toward the end of my internship, the emotional resilience I had worked so hard to build was put to the test like never before.
Dawn invited me into her office for an impromptu meeting, an opportunity I eagerly accepted. I had recently given a presentation to the team that I had worked incredibly hard on; I assumed she wanted a run down since she had not been able to attend.
I gave her a quick summary, and reveled in the praise and encouragement she subsequently awarded me.
As I was basking in the warm glow of her approval, she asked if I would pull up an old spreadsheet I had been working on a few weeks ago. Puzzled, I tentatively pulled up the doc–this was a project I had worked on under a previous supervisor that had since been let go in a somewhat tumultuous way.
Admittedly a considerable amount of time had passed since I had worked on this project. I had assumed it was no longer relevant since it fell under my previous supervisor’s jurisdiction.
My heart sank as Dawn scanned the project with a look of clear confusion.
A heavy silence filled the room as it became painfully clear that she had been hoping for a significantly more extensive body of work than what was in front of her. Dawn explained that she was perplexed and disappointed that I had not made more progress with this project.
Her furrowed brow and intense look of concern–a departure from her typical friendly disposition–immediately triggered tears in my eyes and a tightening of my throat. My mind went blank as soon as I heard the word “disappointed.”
I choked out an explanation of how I was not aware this project was a priority for her–we had not discussed it once since my former supervisor had left. I apologized profusely, my face and neck growing warmer each second that went by, more embarrassed and ashamed than I had been in a long time.
In a flurry of anxious apologies and flustered promises that I would finish the project as soon as possible, I quickly left her office.
For the rest of the week and well into the weekend, I was a complete wreck. I was beyond disappointed in myself for not clarifying with my Dawn what her expectations were now that I was reporting to her. I felt incredibly naive for assuming the project would be dropped simply because my previous supervisor had left. I had let down the person I looked up to the most.
As dramatic as it sounds, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had somehow failed the organization as a whole. I knew I wanted to build up my emotional resiliency while in DC - but not like this.
To me, emotional resilience meant incorporating incremental feedback paired with equal parts praise, not recovering from a colossal misstep.
As I cried to my parents over the phone about what a horrible employee I was, they sympathetically reminded me that I was just an intern. The future of the company was most definitely not riding on my back.
Coming back into work on Monday, I resolved to move on, just do my best going forward, and fix the spreadsheet, of course.
But I still felt as though the ice I was walking on couldn’t be any thinner.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I approached Dawn and asked if we could arrange a time to chat. Nervous as I was to rehash the events, I wanted to make sure to clear the air.
The conversation that followed soothed my fears and anxiety. Dawn apologized for not making her expectations clear, and clarifying any miscommunication. We agreed it was a shared burden, and that we would do better to make sure we were on the same page in the future.
I was immediately grateful I had chosen to overcome my fear and channel that drive for resolution and better communication, which ultimately fostered an even closer relationship with my supervisor, and instilled in me a confidence that hadn’t been there before.
When I later recounted my blunder to a few of my coworkers over lunch, they assured me it was nothing to lose sleep over and shared stories of their own embarrassing missteps.
The mistake I thought would undoubtedly have me packing my bags and on the next flight home to Utah, ultimately deepened the connection I shared with my supervisor, and laid the groundwork for even better effective communication.
While it was an incredibly humbling experience, I learned the importance of remaining hopeful, holding tight to my resolve, and continuing to show up and put myself out there even after that misstep. I learned to take my mistakes in stride, while also remaining humble enough to correct them.
While I will continue to try my best, I have no doubt that I will also continue to make errors at work. I look forward to using these experiences as opportunities for learning and growth rather than shame and stagnation.