#16: A new definition of personal power — rooted in humor and humanity.
#16: A new definition of personal power — rooted in humor and humanity.
Sue Deagle, Despot (part 2).
In case you missed it, this is Part 2 of a two-part series! You can find Part 1 here.
Part 1 recap: Cackling until I cried.
About myself. At myself really. What else is a widow to do?
When I found myself as the new sole decision-maker in my household at a time when I really wasn’t capable of logical thought, I turned my newfound power (and emotional/intellectual short-comings) into a joke.
I was the Despot of Deagleland. Fully in charge but probably shouldn’t be!
The joke, besides allowing me to enjoy some dark humor in my terrible situation, surprisingly also gave me permission to go easier on myself. Because it wasn’t me. It was the Despot of Deagleland! What else could we expect from that crazy lady?
For the first time in my life, I didn’t even pretend to handle things well. I didn’t take myself seriously. I didn’t expect myself to “rise to the challenge.”
I asked the bare minimum of myself, and was gentle with myself when I couldn’t even deliver that.
I admitted mistakes easily and forgave myself immediately.
I discovered the soothing side effects of humility and vulnerability — not previously valued by Sue the Hard Charger.
I learned to ask for help without feeling bad at all. And also how to tell people to politely f*** off because I did not have the time, strength, nor concern for anyone’s drama but my own.
Finally, I allowed myself the release of laughter when I was all out of tears. The kind of laughter that leaves your face and sides sore, that makes you beg for it to stop. Laughter that is only possible when you fully let go of control (or stop pretending you have any).
There were only two things in the world that mattered to me, and my ego was not one of them…
Part 2: When the joke became reality.
One stunningly un-funny thing about death is all the paperwork. A task we don’t even like to do when our families are whole and complete.
Not only were there insurance claims and tax corrections I needed to fill out to make Mike’s death “official”, but a second mountain of paperwork was also set in front of me. As badly as I wanted to ignore it, I couldn’t possibly. It was the key to securing our kids’ futures in case something now happened to me.
Holy hell, did that pile of questions, decisions, and barely translatable minutiae make me feel small. I did not feel like a despot here… just a woman flailing through choices about wills, powers of attorney, guardian arrangements, on and on and on.
(PSA moment: Do you have all these? If not, call a lawyer! Consider it an act of love! Mike did, and it was!!!)
Thankfully, blessedly, unbelievably, I received an incredible lawyer recommendation from a literal angel (aka my friend Jennifer). Toula had been through her share of suffering, and understood the dark humor and protective shell of my despot joke. After six months and countless hours macheteing our way through paperwork, we met for our final meeting, this time with a notary and a witness. I signed multiple documents, the notary applied her stamps, Toula compiled the copies in triplicate and neatly stacked the files… And I let out a sigh of relief.
“One more thing!” Toula announced, catching me by surprise. With a flourish, she presented me with a plaque. I could see my name in big letters on it, but had to put my glasses on to read the title at the bottom… “Despot”.
I laughed and laughed, unable to pull myself together long enough to explain to the notary and witness why the nameplate was so funny.
The laughter was a release I hadn’t been able to achieve with tears. In that conference room with lime green chairs, the final remnants of my belief that I had to do it “right” — to be the rock, to be rigid and unflinching and unfailing and perfect and selfless and in control at all times, all at the same time, in order to get anything done — dissolved into the ether…
With the tension gone, in its place I felt something like… strength? Yes, that was it. My strength expanded. And with it, so did I. I got bigger. I became more confident. I realized I was powerful… but in a different way.
A way that didn’t require erasing my humanity, but emerged from it. My vulnerability, my messiness, my failures — things I had been denying for decades — had been quietly nourishing this new form of personal empowerment for months. Even though it had all been a joke in my head, my body felt it as self-acceptance, as safety, as permission to be myself…
Now I didn’t have to try to be powerful. I just was. And still am.
Boom.
Power’s new definition.
Just like that, I popped out a trap door in my mind that I didn’t know existed.
Before stepping through that door, I had been aiming for powerful… but on the other side of the threshold I saw I had been aiming backwards — to my prior identity. To Sue the Hard Charger. But what served her no longer served me.
I needed to become something brand new.
Side note: Isn’t it crazy how we never know what’s around the corner — especially in our own minds — until we get there??
Only on the other side did I realize what I had truly been up to with my jokes and low expectations. I had been crawling out of the ashes of my previous life, previous way of doing things, previous power… and was now stretching my wings to discover I was stronger than ever.
In my new evolution, power no longer equated to being stiff like a steel rod. It was better likened to being powerful like the sun: expansive, radiant, effortless.
Laughter and softness, vulnerability and connection were not antithetical to power. In fact, they expanded it, broadened it, deepened it.
Because turns out power — at least the kind that humans can sustain, versus bulldozers — is not about control or perfection. It’s about being imperfect, acknowledging your limits, leaning into love and compassion, especially for yourself.
Then it becomes absolutely clear what’s non-negotiable for you. What is worth fighting for, changing, pushing through in this one wild and precious life. Not because you have anything to prove to anyone, including yourself. But because that’s what your life is for: showing up for the people, communities, causes, adventures that light up your heart.
In this new understanding, exerting power gives you life rather than taking away from it.
Power that ignites rather than diminishes others.
I don’t know if any other revelation from Mike’s death has transformed my daily life more. Thanks to power’s redefinition, I stand differently, talk differently, drive differently, answer emails differently, shower differently! And more than anything, see everyone around me differently.
I see the spark that wants to become a powerhouse of purpose in truly everyone. And very quickly it has become clear that a key purpose of my fire is to light the fire of others. (Could you tell??)
Like the converted shouting from the rooftops about their newfound grace, I cannot keep this revelation to myself. Because imagine what the world would be like if we were all so true and alive and expansive — without taking ourselves so seriously.
The Luminist is actually the second project born from my grief-ignited crucible (it took a few years before I got the nerve to talk to complete strangers about death constantly.) The first started to take shape when I was just a year into my new job and 18 months a widow. Working with women around the world in the male-dominated industry of defense contracting, I saw a need…
And I felt my entire being leap forward to fill it.
No thought about how it would look on my resume or help me climb the corporate ladder. It was just exactly what I wanted, needed, to be doing.
So I asked a few other powerful women in my company if they’d like to help me plan a women’s summit with our teams in the Middle East. Four short months later, we were at the Kuwait Hilton (my home away from home!) with a hundred exceptional, brilliant, strong women who worked for our company in the region. Through community and connection, we excavated each woman’s personal power and removed every barrier we could that diminished it. For ourselves, but also for everyone around us.
We departed from the Hilton a constellation — each woman not just a star, but a Sun, connected in a network that gave every individual meaning and purpose… and community to lean on.
Finding this type of power on purpose.
I fell backwards into authentic empowerment. But my work at the Women’s Summit over the last four years has convinced me you can also walk towards power with confidence.
Power is the self-sustaining fire that just grows bigger and bigger when you’re honest about what matters and what doesn’t. When you’re real and human and messy and even broken… because you can’t care “what people will think” anymore. You’re too busy caring about the things that really really matter.
And letting them take up all the space in your heart.
Isn’t that, when we really get down to it, what we are all craving from life anyway?
So, what in your life lights the bonfire of your power? And what dims your fire?
Finally, what is your secret trap door to focusing on the things that matter, while letting go of the things that don’t?
It doesn’t have to feel so serious! Turns out it can even start as a self-deprecating joke ;).
(Or it can be very serious, reader’s choice!)
Your commander,
Sue, Despot of Deagleland
I was one of those women attending that first Women Summit and I will never be thankful enough for that opportunity to receive the shared.