{image credit :: spcbrass}

Most of us have had them – those moments when we’re absolutely, positively convinced that this wrenching pain inside our souls has just got to be the biggest the world has ever seen. We think that if the if the rest of the world had to suffer this much, well… we’re pretty certain that civilization couldn’t possibly have developed as it did. We ache and we hurt and we may even feel angry that no one can know this pain inside our hearts.

And then we get back the Mr. Potato Head and feel better, right? Kidding!

In some ways, this sense that our pain is distinctive does mirror a childlike sense of uniqueness. As very young children, we see our environment as an extension of ourselves. Essentially, the world revolves around us (and it sort of does – have you seen how many toddlers own iPads?) and it takes a while to develop an awareness of other people and the fact that they experience emotions. (You mean kicking daddy in the shin hurts him?)

Now, I’m not saying we’re all a bunch of overgrown toddlers with no awareness of one another. In fact, many of us have too much awareness of one another! But our experience of our own pain can sometimes reflect that sense that no one can possibly know how this feels. And as a grown-up in the world, that’s a pretty lonely place to be.

When we perceive that our pain is somehow greater than the next guys – our day at work was harder, our mother’s cancer is in a farther stage of progression, our break-up was on Facebook and not just through text – we suddenly are gearing up for the Pain Olympics. It’s an elite event in which only the most victimized survive.

Sports featured in this daily occasion are Career, Health, Finances, Relationships, Family, and everyone’s favorite, The Universe Just Totally Screwed Me. Players battle it over out such important issues as whose trip to the dentist was more painful and who has to spend more time with creepy Uncle Sal at Thanksgiving.

The problem with the Pain Olympics is that no one ever seems to win. The battles rage on as we become more and more defeated trying to defend just how hard we have it. Our strength, the limited amount we have considering the crap we’re dealing with, slowly diminishes. And eventually, everyone seems to forfeit.

Thinking our pain is worse than others isn’t inherently bad. Heck, for all we know, it is worse! But what happens when we attach so firmly to that belief is that we find ourselves alone on an island of our pain. We’ve alienated anyone that might be able to relate – to whatever degree that might be possible – and we’ve adopted the victim role. And the victim never wins.

So how do you win the Pain Olympics? You throw down your sword and armor and you get out of the fight. That doesn’t mean defeat and it doesn’t even mean letting go of the belief that you have it worse off. It simply means dropping the battle and allowing others to help ease your pain rather than challenging it. It takes courage. And it definitely deserves a medal.

Do you ever feel like you have to defend your pain? 

{image credit :: Corryne Wooten}

The lovely Sui, of Cynosure fame, asked me recently about what I do to show myself kindness. [It’s for a really cool project she’s working on, so stay tuned!] It really got me thinking about self-care and how it’s so much more complicated than manicures and getting a good night’s sleep.

As I told Sui, I tend to be pretty conservative when it comes to trying new things. I’ve talked about that before. So in order to widen my scope of life and not live in a tiny bubble, I have to push myself at times to step – or leap – outside my comfort zone. A good example of this was when I tried yoga for the first time. While I’d been curious about the practice for ages, my fear of falling over and making a fool of myself ruled the roost for a long time. When I finally got up the nerve to give it a go, I feel in love with the practice. It’s now regularly part of my self-care routine.

But one thing I’ve learned is that when I pack my schedule full of “self-care” activities – when I try to jam in eleven supposedly relaxing activities into one day – I find myself totally burnt out. And when I stop listening to my body, I feel drained and depleted.

It usually starts out subtly. I notice a nagging that feels like a pulling inside my chest. When I start to listen a little more closely I notice that my mind is keeping pace – it’s starting to whisper that I really don’t feel like practicing Spanish tonight. The voice usually gets louder until I have to pay attention to it – and I have to make a decision. At that point I notice that there might be one part of my brain that tries to convince me that my lack of interest is related to me being a.) lazy b.) a wimp c.) dull. I’ve found that I have to just notice these thoughts and not allow myself to attach to them. [Minds do funny things!]

I have to go back to the feeling – usually in my body – and try to evaluate what’s really going on. Maybe I’m just tired after a long day and I don’t have the mental energy for Spanish tonight. Maybe my body is trying to gently tell me that I really don’t even care about learning Spanish. Or maybe it’s telling me that it’s just not the right time in my life to be committing to this particular endeavor. Whatever it is, giving myself space to look a little more deeply, with curiosity instead of judgment, allows for some powerful revelations.

Sometimes I end up studying the Spanish, or going to yoga, or meeting friends for brunch. But other times I stay home in bed and stream Netflix. ¿Comprende?

Are you able to be gentle with yourself with self-care? What kinds of things do you enjoy to nourish your soul?

{image credit :: notsogoodphotography}

When the time had finally come for the exam, I suddenly understood fully the idea of one’s stomach doing summersaults. I had always thought this was an expression, and now I was quite certain that this organ was competing with Shawn Johnson for best all-around gymnastics performance.

As my body started signaling fight or flight – and I soon recognized that fleeing or throwing punches at my professors was not an option – my mind raced with all the ways in which I was about to royally screw this up. I was facing my clinical competency exam, a multi-part test that assesses one’s knowledge and acumen in the field of psychology – and a requirement of graduating. The scariest part involved sitting in front of two of the professors I had revered for years and stammering, I mean discussing, my rationale for huge reports I had written.

My mind told me that this was it. The moment that it would be all over. There was no more hiding. They’d soon know the truth.

I. Am. A. Fraud. Period.

But you got into graduate school! Don’t you remember? [That’s my rational, not so informed mind speaking.]

Yes, but that must have been a mistake! The numbers of applicants were low. Or they mixed me up with someone else and then didn’t have the heart to kick me out. Or, worse yet, they felt sorry for me.

But you’ve thrived here so far! You get good grades. Professors and supervisors like you. C’mon…

You c’mon! Sure I can schmooze. But when it comes time to buckle down and show ‘em what I’m made of… well, the proof is in the pudding. And my pudding ain’t crap.

Oh sure it is. You’re smart. You’re insightful. You’re responsible. You’re even a good therapist.

Where the heck do you get your information, missy?

… So you can see where this is going. More bantering until I was finally called in to show my stuff. You can figure out the ending (I passed – Yippee!), but the sad irony was that my fraud mind could justify even this. (“Oh, well, just wait until you try to defend your dissertation. You think you know research? Who are you fooling? No one soon…”)

Sad, huh?

Sadder still is just how many of us suffer from this conviction that we are actually a fraudulent version of ourselves. Psychologists actually have a name for this (this is actually how we spend our time – coming up with clever names for interesting phenomena!). We call it the imposter syndrome.

This happens when we can’t seem to internalize our accomplishments – when we’re convinced that no matter what fantastic things we achieve, it reflects a deception we have created rather than just how freaking talented we actually are.

This phenomenon runs rampant among women, particularly successful women (that’s not just my anecdotal evidence there – there’s data to support this).

For many high-achieving women, acknowledging that their success might actually reflect internal skills, knowledge, and talents is incredibly difficult. It’s kind of like what I was discussing when I told you about hiding my academic prowess in fifth grade.

This is sometimes considered a remnant of (or evidence of ongoing) sex stereotypes, in which, due to years of gendered socialization, it’s hard to wrap our minds around woman as powerhouse. For the sake of our not rocking the proverbial boat (which hasn’t even stopped to ask for directions), our sex roles stay firmly, albeit subtly, in place.

Another potential reason for the imposter phenomenon was explored back in the day by Clance and Imez. They suggested that women’s roles in their families contributed to this version of self as an imposter. Some of these women, they argued, were told that their sibling was the truly gifted one, and they never felt that any of their accomplishments really stood for anything. The other subset is full of women whom were told that they were so awesome (and smart and wonderful), that they felt they could never live up to the expectations established for them. They were always working so hard to live up this superhero version of themselves that others created, they came to believe it was just that – fictional.

Lending support to this idea, psychologist Carol Dweck found that when faced with novel and challenging tasks, the girls with the highest IQs were the quickest to give up. Bright boys, on the other hand, doubled their efforts when faced with the challenge. Could it be that it’s these stories, these perceived expectations of perfection and achievement, that rob girls and women of their sense of being capable?

However it’s defined and explained, the imposter syndrome is alive and well in classrooms, boardrooms, and even the blogosphere. Have you ever thought to yourself, “I’m not a real runner,”? Or, “If they really new me, they’d realize that I’m a total fake. I always use a calculator.” Or, “One of these days the world will figure out I can’t really write. I’ve just been getting by on people’s kindness.”

If these thoughts plague you, know that you’re not alone. You are also not really a fraud. It’s just your mind’s way of trying to hide you from your greatness – that sneaky little devil trying to slyly sabotage you. Lucky for you, you have a choice to make — buy into that thought or let it pass by you like a leaf on a stream. I choose the latter. And that’s 100% the real deal.