STRENGTH THROUGH CRISES (eBook)

Strong in a Crisis

Many people have asked me: “How did you survive your dangerous crisis so well? What made you so strong?” Naturally, I’ve asked myself the same questions. As I sought answers, I discovered some elements of my success that correspond with what I call protective factors of resilience. There are many definitions of resilience—mental resistance, one’s inner strength under duress, and so on. Sometimes it is due to seven, eight, or even ten protective factors, also called pillars of resilience. They protected me, and that’s why I call them protective factors.

According to scientific studies, resilience most commonly depends on acceptance, optimism, self-efficacy, and social support. Competence in stressful situations and fitness are important too. The first part of this book is a discussion of the six protective factors that helped me most to survive my captivity in the jungle.

Why Me?

That’s a question I’ve asked myself countless times when looking back at my life. I was the youngest in my year at school, physically awkward and intellectually overwhelmed. I would have loved to remain a child, to just play and live without any pressure, staying forever in my comfort zone. During swimming lessons, I stayed in the warm baby pool as long as I could while my contemporaries were already racing each other in the big, cold pool. They practically had to throw me in. I was never a member of one of the cool gangs, and for a long time, I played the unloved role of the class clown.

When I was fifteen years old, things got better. My first love was a popular girl who was definitely out of my league. We spent a wonderful year together and were already dreaming of having children. But it was puppy love, and jealousy and hurt replaced the romance. We separated with tears and heartache. The pain and jealousy nearly tore me apart, but at the same time, those feelings released an unexpected energy in me and made me more courageous. I suddenly wanted to change and at last leave behind my role as the straggler and the clown.

It meant leaving everything familiar behind, and that was something completely new to me. The decisive moment—and I clearly remember it—came when our English teacher stormed into our geography class and shouted: “Who wants to go on a student exchange to England for four weeks? There are only two places. First come, first served.” I had never raised my arm so quickly, shouting “Ja!” This is my chance, things can’t get any worse, said an inner voice. Another voice reminded me that my knowledge of the English language was pretty poor. But it was too late to worry about that. I was one of only a few students in my class who had never been abroad. My older brother had already been to France and England. He was much bolder and independent and quite a good role model; whereas I was afraid of being far away from home and preferred to stay in the warm nest with my loving parents. But being lovesick worked like a kick in the butt. It threw me out of my comfort zone and gave me the momentum to embark on an adventure—something I had never dared before. For the first time, I jumped into the big, cold pool voluntarily.

The Beginnings of a Self-Determined Life

In Cornwall, I was born again. Laurence, my exchange partner, was a stroke of luck in every respect. I had a wonderful time with him, his family, and his friends. English people seemed to be more relaxed than Germans. Everything seemed easy, and even learning the language was fun. I progressed in leaps and bounds and conquered obstacles that previously seemed insurmountable. I did a week’s internship with a local paper. At the end of it, they published an article about me with a photo. I was so proud! For the first time in my life, I had thrown myself into the unknown and come out the other side! My self-confidence grew amazingly, and I knew I wanted more of that! Back in Germany, I applied myself even harder. I studied, got good grades, found acceptance and respect, and was keen on more—more learning, even better grades. Most of all, I was keen for more recognition. My time abroad had set a positive cycle in motion. But without realizing it, I fell into another trap: I became a junkie hooked on success.

Recognition from others increased my confidence and also raised my status in school. When I was younger, I was quite a talented drummer and had always hoped to use that talent to gain the acceptance of the other students. When I was nine years old, I played for the first time on a large stage in front of an audience of five hundred. It was with the teacher’s band, with my father on guitar. At twelve, I won a few talent competitions with the school band. Our songs were even played on the radio (once!), but all that left no impression on my fellow students. The answer to the question “Do I feel successful?” was always no. It would never have occurred to me then that one day I would shine because of my grades and be proud of it. But that was exactly the case now. I passed my exams with excellent grades and enjoyed the respect it brought me, having longed for it for such a long time. It felt as if the world was my oyster. In my 1992 high school yearbook, I stated “Abroad (Australia)” as my dream destination.

For the duration of my civil service, I stayed in my hometown of Göttingen to save up for college. I had earned a fair bit of money as the drummer in a band, playing at weddings and office parties for a few years. It had been great fun too.

At nineteen, I had no idea what to do with the rest of my life. Yes, I wanted to go to college and get good grades, and possibly to do it abroad—to hopefully repeat my good times in Cornwall. And that’s how my five years in college turned out. I studied all sorts of things—social sciences, economic geography, and international management—in five countries, at four universities, and in three languages. I was ambitious and finished everything with excellent grades. I received a first in my diploma; a distinction in my MSc, and was “Best in Year” as I got my MBA. I was very proud and enjoyed the amount of recognition and respect these honors brought me. Prince Charles would have handed me my certificate if I had gone to the graduation ceremony. In Paris, I was asked to give an official speech as Best in Year in a splendid ministerial building.

My years of studying were exciting and interesting but didn’t help much toward finding the right job. I had allowed myself to be influenced too easily, by adverts, articles, recommendations, that kind of thing. I was interested a little in a lot of things (though not in finance), but not really keen on anything, apart from languages. Whereas everyone else seemed to have chosen their favorite subject and committed to it, I was a specialist in the general. I had many fingers in many pies but couldn’t decide which one to eat.

“Hey, go into consulting. They are always looking for flexible, well-educated people,” a friend of mine suggested. “You can always specialize in something later.” That sounded ideal and didn’t commit me to anything—quite my thing. Because our careers officer had good connections to Luxembourg, I completed my second master’s degree with a corporate consultancy company, PricewaterhouseCoopers Consulting (PwC) in Luxembourg.

When All Doors Are Open…

PwC was the ideal springboard for my career. Not only was I part of one of the most renowned management consultancy firms in the world, but also, I was in a heaven of multiculturalism. Consultants from all over the world made up the teams for specific projects. The working language fluidly changed between English, French, and German, often in the same sentence. For me, it was a dream!

For a year, I played the role of a firefighter on a project worth billions, coordinating IT projects for an international financing service. My team of consultants often worked until late at night on factsheets and presentations to finish the monthly report for the board in time. I was a good soldier, but had very little conviction. What I loved was the recognition it brought me.

At the university, my interests had been wide-ranging. I found learning easy, but to commit myself to detail wasn’t really my thing. I had always reached for the next interesting topic, always reacting positively to encouragement and recognition. I only understood much later that just grabbing opportunities has very little to do with self-determination.

But, if I wanted to make a career as a consultant, I would have to specialize. My boss gave me a choice: It was either “private banking” or “investment funds.” But I wasn’t really interested in either. It wasn’t real enough for me. Too many figures, too much… hmm, tax-avoidance. But there wasn’t really anything else for me in Luxembourg. What could I do? Move again? And where to? What on earth was I supposed to do—and where?

Many doors were open to me, but I didn’t have a clue which one to choose. I was young and free but felt a complete lack of direction. Hadn’t I reached my goal—a successful job abroad? Looking back, I know that Luxembourg was only a transit station on my hunt for recognition, on my endless search for more of it.

So far, my life had led me from one city to the next, one university to the next, one project to the next, one woman to the next—always without any commitment, always ready for the next kick. My job was really the equivalent of a lottery win for someone so new to the business, but it was killing me. I had felt burned out for a while.

But instead of taking things more slowly, I took on more and more major tasks. The next mega project...