I don’t know exactly when I became phobic of bees, wasps and yellow jackets.
Maybe it started when, as a three year old, my older brother left me hanging in the toddler swing set in the park across the seat from the house, with a nasty, late-afternoon thunderstorm looming, and a cloud of moody bees threatening to swarm me. Maybe it started when, soon afterwards, I tried to push a half-dead yellow jacket off the hot summer sidewalk and into my little plastic orange teapot and got my forefinger stung badly enough warrant a bandage, copious tears and lots of kisses from my mom. No matter: By the time I was six or seven, I had learned to run, screaming, from a single bee. This was particularly embarrassing once we moved to Italy, where outdoor restaurants were commonplace, as was the habit of serving fresh fruit and ice cream for dessert. I can’t tell you how many nice restaurants I escaped on the run, convinced that an insistent, buzzing wasp would follow the piece of watermelon I was forking towards my open mouth and sting me.
This went on for years, the phobia plaguing me even as an adult. Whenever a bee, wasp or yellow-jacket began to circle me (and, I swear, they always made an-ahem– beeline for me and me alone), I would freak out and run. My friends and family teased me, and I grew even more embarrassed about my behavior.
It all came to a head one lovely spring day when I was twenty-five years old, and living in New York City. I decided to take a leisurely walk, and found myself in the heart of Central Park. Climbing a tiny hill, I looked admiringly at the spring flowers blooming all around me, and at the crowds of New Yorkers out enjoying the first warm day of the season. I watched as a group of children played on the banks of a pond. All of a sudden, one of them, a girl of about six, began to swat the air around her, and stumble-run in circles. Then she took off like a bullet in my direction. As she neared, I could see that she was being followed by a zooming, zigzagging little flying object. A bee! For an instant, my heart froze. “Help me! Help me!” the little girl screamed shrilly. Then she slammed into me and wrapped her arms around my legs. The bee bore down on her menacingly.
As always, every part of me wanted to turn tail and run.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t bear to telegraph my fear to this little girl.
Intuitively, I knew that if ran, it would signal that I was afraid; and my fear would amp up her fear, which might have a lasting effect.
And so, I did something I thought I’d never be able to do: I stayed put and held my ground in the face of a droning, probing bee. “Don’t worry,” I said, in as calm and convincing a voice as I could muster, “it won’t sting you.”
I held on to the little girl and continued to speak soothingly to her as the bee circled us. Finally, it got bored and flew away. “It’s gone,” I said. The little girl pulled away and looked around. Then she looked at me and smiled. “OK,” she said, “Thanks.” She scampered away to join her friends, and left me on the hill, my knees shaking.
Years later, looking back at that incident, I realize that in that moment I had chosen to be a leader. I had chosen to lead with courage. I had chosen to lead by example. Granted, I hadn’t been in a board room, a corporate office, or a business meeting. But I’d been in a situation where my actions and my words had the power to influence another human being and I had chosen to demonstrate “commanding authority and lasting influence,” which, according to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, is the definition of leadership.
Leadership opportunities are everywhere. And Everyone is a Leader. Day after day, moment by moment, you have the choice to be a leader in your life. There are countless opportunities for you to step up to the plate and take action or make a decision that has “commanding authority and lasting influence.” This holds true whether or not you are in a formal leadership position in the workplace, or whether you even work at all. You have the power to make a lasting difference in your life and in the lives of others. Even if you’re scared silly, as I was that fateful spring day, protecting that little girl from the circling bee.
This week, remember: Everyone is a Leader, especially you. Look for opportunities to take charge and share your wisdom and your expertise. Find the courage to face down your metaphoric bees and choose to be the leader you are-at work, at home, and in life.