More than 30 years ago, my doctoral advisor handed me two envelopes. They contained identical copies of her recommendation letter for my faculty job applications. My advisor was whip smart and tough and all business. She pushed me hard to be a better thinker and a better writer, to ask sharper questions and deepen my analysis. Sally was not given to overtly nurturing behaviors, and she intimidated the hell out of me. She also made me a good historian.
And that day, she surprised me. As she handed me the letters, she said, "One is for your application file. Keep the other for your own file." I must have given her a quizzical look because she added, "In my top desk drawer, I keep a file of things--good reviews of my work, recommendation letters, notes from students. When I'm having a rotten day or doubting myself, I pull that file out to remind me that I do good work and make a difference."[i]
I was floored. For one thing, I couldn't imagine that my brilliant advisor ever doubted herself. She always projected calm confidence. And I was also surprised at the encouraging and generous nature of this advice.
I went home and read her letter--which was indeed positive and a huge boost to my confidence at a moment when I was floundering in dissertation purgatory, wondering why I had ever imagined that I might be smart enough to finish a Ph.D.
And then I put the letter in an empty blue folder and put it in my top desk drawer. I thought of it as my "Blue Folder for blue days."
Over the years I added to the file: an encouraging note from the scholar who secured my first book for publication, a review of that book, news clippings, and notes from students--lots and lots of notes from students. Those were the best. And just as Sally had advised, I kept that folder in my top desk drawer. On hard days when the self-doubt was strong, I opened that folder and read some of the stuff in it. And it helped. It still does.
I've sometimes recommended that clients start their own version of the Blue Folder.
This week I've been listening to Jennifer Breheny Wallace's new book, Mattering: The Secret to a Life of Great Connection and Purpose, and I discovered another name for my Blue Folder. She calls it an "impact file," a place to gather reminders that the things you do in this life matter to other people--that you matter.
What about you? Do you have an Impact File? Tell me about it in the comments. If you don't have one, maybe you could try starting one.
[i] Mind you, I don't remember her exact words, but this is the gist of my takeaway from the conversation.