Humility has been my partner on many different stages.  One of my biggest moments of humility was also met with humiliation (do those go hand in hand?).  I was a member of the Air Force Honor Guard Drill Team.  To be a Ceremonial Guardsman is a great feat itself, but to become a member of the coveted drill team is even more exclusive.  Egos are elevated and sometimes you fall into the “ego pit” and can’t help but think how great you really are.  Countless hours of practice and repetition are required before you are considered prepared enough to perform for the public.  Keep in mind, the drill team represents the precision of the Air Force.  If the Air Force’s drill team is THIS spot on, then the Air Forces’ weapons of war must be just as precise, right? 

My first public performance took place on Memorial Day during an Air Show on Andrews Air Force Base.  It was a perfect day to toss weapons around.  The sky was clear, it wasn’t too hot, and, most importantly, there was no wind.  The nervousness and anxiety one feels when called upon to give a speech is comparable to how I felt.  I felt ready, but questioned myself.  Was I ready? It didn’t matter because we were marching out to applause and ‘the show must go on’.  The performance begins and things were going well…until (notice the 50 second mark):

A teammate’s toss was MUCH higher than expected.  I wasn’t prepared to catch it and didn’t.  Dropping a weapon during a performance is considered “mission failure”.  The team was put on display to be perfect and because of me, we weren’t.  I wanted to blame my drop on my teammate’s toss, but I was the one who dropped it.  Dropping that day stayed in the back of my head for the next year and I ended up dropping more.  I was questioning myself.

As I continued to drop, I began to not only doubt myself, but believe my teammates were against me.  If I had simply talked to them, it would have greatly reduced my performance anxiety and helped me believe and trust in my abilities. I realized humble pie can sometimes be served on a silver platter during serious, high-level business and very publicly.  When the time came to move on to a different assignment and a different job, part of me was happy because my ego had taken quite the beating.  The other part of me wished I could’ve stayed longer to redeem myself. 

That experience generated quite a bit of personal growth, provided insights into how I self-sabotage and my lack of self-worth.  I think back to stepping out to perform and how monumental I made the moment.  If I had kept it in perspective, in relation to real world events and got out of my head, I would have performed better.  If I had still managed to drop, at least I wouldn’t have treated it like an albatross.  Because my ego was already bruised by lack of self-esteem it took leaving the Honor Guard to learn, in retrospect, that you miss cues by blaming others, ignoring helpful signs or mentally beating yourself up.  It is okay to laugh at yourself and your mistakes, as long as you carry the lessons forward with you.