Social life at Stanford AKA my struggles as a social butterfly

One of my biggest personal struggles on campus so far has been navigating the social environment. Interestingly enough, that was the part I was least worried about before school began. But now, one year in, I can attest that “social” is the part of the experience that I have struggled with the most. 

Now some of my classmates who know me well will read this and probably think I’m nuts to say that. After all, they saw me co-organizing a 260-person class trip before school even began and generally see me all over the place being friends with all sorts of people and attending all types of events. Yet that’s just the on-the-surface impression. 

Underneath, I struggled socially. Something I didn’t really notice during the first quarter from September to December. As one social interaction was instantly followed by another (literally from morning until the evening, day after day), my brain had absolutely no time or space to rest and digest how my social life was panning out. It wasn’t until the winter break when I had three weeks and finally got a chance to think a little about my patterns of (social) behavior.

I soon realized that I was spread very thin. I was trying to be everywhere and to get to know everyone – multiple coffee chats each day, ideally with people I had not properly connected with. So I started wondering what triggered that behavior.

Sure, I’m an extrovert and I love meeting new people, but I sensed there was a little more to that. After some more soul-searching, I realized that my behavior was driven not only by a natural desire to meet every single person in my year (much of the MBA value lies in the network after all), but also by a certain need to have a harmonious relationship with the people around me. In other words: I wanted to make sure I left a good impression on everyone. And yes, I also wanted to be liked. It wasn’t my core motivation, but it did play into it.

So as I was going through the second quarter, I increasingly saw groups forming. And while I felt I had a really good 1:1 relationship with almost all the individuals in those groups, I actually didn’t feel I had any “membership” in those groups. Sure, I could have invited myself along to whatever they were doing and in generally I was happily welcomed, but rarely was I on top of mind when those groups were planning something.

While this seems like a negligible disruption to my otherwise busy social life, it turned out to be a much heavier weight on my mind than I expected it to be. That said, this development was totally reasonable. While I was out there socializing with everyone, I didn’t put my social time and effort into nurturing group relationships. So when a group planned an event/trip/activity, I wasn’t necessarily on top of mind. I was a just lose member. 

Yet despite the weight I felt, I did ask myself a fundamental question: “would I be ok with giving up on all the 1:1 connections I was making and instead put my time and energy into nurturing my belongingness to a group?” Well, the answer was a firm “no.” Asking myself that question was important to realize that at my very core, I’m a social butterfly. And even if that behavior comes at the cost of not nurturing group relationships, it is the behavior that I would be least willing to give up on. 

It took me some time, but I learned to appreciate more everything that I am as opposed to being frustrated for everything that I am not. And while my motivation is changing (I’m working hard on dropping the entire “wanting to be liked” part), I acknowledge that being (a) social (butterfly) is simple part of my identity that I can’t change that easily.  

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The power of dormant friendships

Max and I in a Tuk Tuk in Bangkok

Max and I in a Tuk Tuk in Bangkok

Since I got to Singapore, two things happened that made me feel immense gratitude for the friendships that I have been able to build and nurture throughout the past ±10 years of my life. 

After I posted that I’m coming to Singapore, my Singapore-based friend Nicolas reached out and offered me his apartment to stay while he is out for three weeks traveling. Now I’m using the term “friend” a little loosely here because not only did we not see each other for 8 years but we also didn’t interact that much with each other back in 2008 when he was on a 6-month exchange at my university. But there was enough trust and knowledge for him to reach out and to offer me his place. 

Something similar happened with my friend Max. Max and I studied together for 3 years form 2006 to 2009, but we were never close. In fact we only got to see each other once for only one hour over the past 7 years since graduation (I quick coffee in SF before I had to leave for a flight). Yet Max saw that I’m coming to Asia and suggested to do a trip together since he was based nearby in Hong Kong. And now I find myself headed to Bangkok to hang out with him.

These are just two stories, but they feed into a collection of many more. Admittedly, both Nicolas and Max are "weak links” – people that I haven’t really talked or written to for years. And as I think about the why and how these two re-encounters came upon, I come to realize that these types of weak links are not actually weak. They are just dormant and they can come to life at any time. The stories of Nicolas and Max serve as two real examples.

Now for that to happen, Max and Nicolas had to trust me and actually want to reconnect with me. And that trust and willingness came through a certain visibility which they had into my life. If the two had not heard or known about me since we last met, they would have probably not felt the incentive to reach out and reconnect. I didn’t have to look for their contact and then cold-message them, but because they knew where life had taken me ever since we last met and what I had been up to, they reached out to me. If it wasn’t for that insight, I don’t think they would have been so welcoming and inviting. 

Now I don’t want to promote self-promoting behavior on Facebook, but the fact that my two friends were able to follow my journey through social media, was really a deciding factor in them reaching out. For good things to crash into your life, you actually have to put a part of yourself out there. You actually have to take the risk and share a part of you.  

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A good time... a good story… or both!

I don’t remember where I picked up this sentence, but it it was an encouragement saying that if you do things that make you uncomfortable, “you will either have a good time or a good story.” There was something very positive and open-minded about this statement, so it stayed in my mind for some time. Yet after a while, I realized that the two are not mutually exclusive. You can have both a good time and a good story. 

I like this statement because it encourages me to take risks and it reduces the anxiety that would normally come with it. You certainly need to have a healthy level of “good faith” to soothe your concerns with a simple belief like that… but isn’t that exactly what religions require you to do as well? 

So the reason why this sentence has been on my mind again lately is because I was given the opportunity to do something out of the norm. Something that made me feel uncomfortable at first, and which made me look for 573 reasons not to do it – even though the adventurous part of me was really eager to just jump on the opportunity. More specifically, it was an invitation to join someone on a trip to an exotic location. Someone I didn’t know, but someone who was equally crazy and courageous to ask me in the first place. 

“Is it crazy if I ask you to join”? I was asked. I paused for a minute or two, and then responded: “Yes it is. In a good way. So... when are we leaving?” And while I was committing to the unknown, to the possibility that this might be a massive disappointment, and to the risk of regretting my decision, I just told myself that at the end of the tunnel, there is either a good time, or a good story. And if I’m lucky, there is actually both. So I went. 

And truth be told, this wasn’t the first time I signed up for unexpected and spontaneous ideas or invitations. Yet looking back, there are none that I truly regret. In these moments when I was standing face to face with everything that made my uncomfortable, it was a simple believe like this that allowed to take the risk and carry myself through the experience with a positive and open-minded attitude. And at the end of it, I looked back on a good time and a good story. I made new friends, I got to experience a new place, and I pushed myself to do something I was uncomfortable with. 

As I’m approaching the end of my 20s – I’m turning 30 in December – I have become very reflective about this past decade and all the things I did or did not do. The way I think about the past 10 years is sort of a proxy for how I will one day be looking back on my entire life, wondering what life story I wrote. At the end of it all, our life story will be the sum of all the individual decisions that we took. And with that, I want to make sure I take more decisions that allow me to have a good time and a good story.  

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Talking about the tough stuff in life

If you look at Facebook and Social Media in general, it’s hard to deny that the vast majority of the content shared is content about the good stuff in life. Occasionally there is an update about a loss, a personal tragedy, a moment of pain or despair – but the bulk of it is about achievements, accomplishments, aspirations or affirmations. 

I recently came across this piece on HBR about writing a resume of failures – and I liked it a lot. I liked it because it encourages a conversation about the tough things in life. And truth be told, my resume of failures would shockingly exceed the length of my resume of accomplishments. From the internships I didn’t get to the promotions I didn’t qualify for. From the scholarships I got rejected from to the opportunities I missed.

So how come we never talk about these things? Embellishment is the name of the game and as we focus on only showing our bright side, we create these images of being infallible human beings. That success is our daily breed, and that we are too perfect to suffer. 

But that is not true. We are not perfect. None of us is. We are just not always showing the hardship, we just don’t always talk about our fears, we just never really address those insecurities that influence our thinking and acting – day after day after day. 

So when my friend Kudzi asked me to talk about one of my big fears in life, on video, for a new YouTube series called “even the great ones,” I felt uncomfortable. But I also felt obliged to do it. Behind the many followers on Social Media, behind the brands and degrees, behind the polished image of a successful person that my public posts tend to convey, there is a real human being with fears and insecurities just like anyone else. 

So when I was asked about one of my biggest fears, I talked about my fear of rejection. This constant fear that I would not be accepted for who I am and that I would have to change to fit in. And as a consequence,  that I would end up living a life that is not one in which I do what I really want to do, but one that helps me be accepted. 

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