The Pin Still Means Something

You know how Facebook sends you "memories" of things you have posted on this date in past years? Well, today it reminded me of a post I made four years ago. I posted a picture of a gift I had received from a supervisor: a "Hand of the King" pin from Game of Thrones.

If you’ve never watched the show, you probably won’t understand why this was such an AWESOME gift. But if you know, you know.

The Hand of the King wasn’t just an assistant. The Hand was the person the King trusted to help carry the weight of the kingdom. He was the advisor, the strategist, and the fixer. He was the person you wanted beside you when the stakes were high and the decisions were hard.

At the time, that gift meant a lot to me because of who gave it to me. Four years later, it means something completely different.

That supervisor and I don't even speak anymore.

There was a time when we had both a strong working relationship and a genuine friendship. There was trust, loyalty, and a mutual respect. And eventually, there was hurt.

Without rehashing a story that doesn't need to be retold, I'll simply say there were actions on both sides that fractured the trust between us and neither of us was able to repair it. Eventually, the professional relationship ended and so did the friendship, and two people who once trusted each other deeply became strangers.

But when that memory popped up today, I realized that even though the relationship ended, my mission didn't.

I have always wanted to be the person people can count on when the stakes are high. The person you can hand the difficult assignment to. The person you can trust with information that cannot leave the room. The person who will tell you what you need to hear, not just what you want to hear. The person who doesn't disappear when things get messy. The person who will help carry the weight.

That was true when I received that pin. It's still true today.

There was, however, something I had to learn. For a long time, I believed that if I showed up for people with loyalty, commitment, honesty, and support, they would naturally show up for me the same way.

I wasn't keeping score. I simply thought reciprocity was part of the deal. I'll protect you. You'll protect me. I'll advocate for you. You'll advocate for me. I'll be there when things get hard. You'll be there when things get hard for me.

Over the years, life and leadership have taught me that it doesn't always work that way. Sometimes you will give someone the version of support you wish they would give you, and they simply won't. Sometimes people will disappoint you. Sometimes you will disappoint them.

Sometimes a relationship you thought would last for years will end.

And sometimes there won't be a villain to blame.

Just two imperfect people, carrying their own expectations, disappointments, mistakes, and hurt, who reach a place they can't come back from.

That's difficult. But it's dangerous to allow what happened with one person to change who you become with everyone else.

When trust is broken, it's tempting to overcorrect. You stop giving people the benefit of the doubt. You become guarded. You stop investing as deeply. You tell yourself, I'll never do that again. Sometimes boundaries are absolutely necessary, but there is a difference between developing wisdom and developing walls.

I could have allowed that experience to convince me that being deeply invested in people was foolish. I could have decided that loyalty was overrated. I could have stopped being the person willing to carry the extra weight. I could have become suspicious of every leader, every colleague, and every relationship that came afterward.

But if I had done those things, I would have allowed that one person to change my mission. The fact is, that supervisor was never supposed to have that much power.

My mission was never to be the Hand of ONE King or Queen. My mission was to become the kind of person who could be trusted with the kingdom. There is a difference.

Looking at that picture four years later, I don't see a failed relationship. I see evidence of who I was becoming. At one point in my life, someone looked at me and saw a person they trusted enough to stand beside them when the stakes were high.

That chapter ended, but I didn't stop becoming that person. If anything, I understand the responsibility better now.

I know that trust can be built just like it can be broken. I know that good people can hurt each other. I know that loyalty doesn't guarantee reciprocity. I also know that losing a relationship doesn't require losing yourself or losing sight of your mission.

Some people will walk beside you for your entire journey. Others are only assigned to a chapter or two. When their chapter ends, whether peacefully or painfully, take the lesson with you.

Keep growing. Keep showing up. Keep becoming the person you said you wanted to be before things went wrong because people, relationships, and circumstances will change, but your mission shouldn't.

As for that Hand of the King pin?

I still have it. It just means something different now.