Tiny Buddha

Tag: imposter syndrome

  • Releasing Self-Sabotage: 3 Simple Ways to Catch Yourself and Redirect

    Releasing Self-Sabotage: 3 Simple Ways to Catch Yourself and Redirect

    “The greater part of human pain is unnecessary. It is self-created as long as the unobserved mind runs your life.” ~Eckhart Tolle

    “Holy shirtballs!” I yelped and leapt out of the ice-cold water stream, gasping for air.

    There I was in an Argentina hotel at 5:30 a.m., bleary-eyed and sleep-deprived, with no chances of hot water and a back that felt like the surface of the sun.

    I had gotten the worst sunburn of my LIFE the day before from laying on my belly, deeply absorbed in my first self-help book. I couldn’t believe that other people out there were like me, had huge ambitions, and wanted to develop themselves beyond societal boxes, too.

    I was so absorbed, in fact, that I forgot to put on ANY sunscreen. (Lesson learned!)

    When I packed my bags and left Argentina with a newfound sense of confidence and thrill—plus a killer tan—I vowed that I would use what I learned from that first book to change my life into exactly what I wanted. An epic relationship with a man who cherished me, freedom to start my own business, and finally getting in shape.

    And then, I touched down in my hometown, Buffalo.

    I was in college at the time, studying to be a Spanish teacher.

    Giving my family a squeeze, answering the good-natured questions they peppered, and looking out at the cold winter scene, I thought, “What was I thinking? Only uber-successful people can live that kind of life and set those kinds of goals. I’m just a girl from a small town with a successful future as a Spanish teacher. I already have so much. I can’t ask for more.”

    And thus began my years of self-torment, in which I lived a good life on paper but sabotaged the crap out of myself when I dared to dream bigger. When brave action was required to get in shape, push forward my career, or meet someone new, I found myself watching endless TV, shying away from the job posting, or saying no to a second date with a perfectly reasonable guy—all while my confidence and self-trust swirled down the drain.

    If you’ve also been there, shopping more after setting a goal to spend less money or ordering a pizza in week two of your new fitness plan, then you know that self-sabotage can be a frustrating habit that we may feel we’ll never kick.

    But there’s good news!

    Self-sabotage is actually the last action in a chain of predictable events. And these events happen to everyone. We can easily catch these precursors to self-sabotage ahead of time and deepen the richness of our pursuit towards our goals with the following three steps.

    1. See imposter syndrome as EXCITING!

    Before we begin to dive into self-sabotage, we need to change our mindset around its precursors—the predictable events that lead up to self-sabotage.

    These precursors include:

    • imposter syndrome
    • overwhelm
    • self-doubt
    • analysis paralysis
    • worry
    • believing we’re not good enough

    These precursory experiences drive the behavior we take when we are acting from a place of “I can’t.” The new fitness plan, the next step in the relationship, or the promotion seem outside of our realm of control, and our brains immediately default to “I can’t handle this, so I can’t do this.”

    When we’re on the precipice of taking inspired action to lead our most fulfilling lives, we are taking a huge step outside of our comfort zones.

    Our brains, which have no evidence of success in this new arena and thus can’t adjust their blueprint to encompass it, will purposefully create these precursory thought patterns in order to get us to stop moving ahead. It sees anything outside of the comfort zone—including growth and fulfillment beyond where we are—as a psychological danger that it can’t account for.

    While we can’t stop our brains from trying to implement these safety measures, we can stop ourselves from buying into them.

    The change in mindset comes when we stop seeing the presence of these precursors as a bad sign or something to fix and instead see them as something EXCITING.

    I know you may be thinking, I HATE feeling overwhelmed or like I’m not good enough. It sucks!

    I don’t disagree that these are uncomfortable experiences. But I will say that these feelings are also evidence that you’re moving in the right direction.

    If you’re experiencing overwhelm, imposter syndrome, or self-doubt, it’s because the thing you’re considering doing is outside of your brain’s comfort zone. And because our purpose in life is to grow and evolve, and all growth and evolution takes place outside of our comfort zone…

    These behaviors only crop up when you’re about to do something BRAVE!

    Feeling like you’re not good enough is no longer evidence that you’re not good enough. It’s just evidence that you’re making a bold decision for yourself to truly live and grow instead of letting your brain stop you.

    You will likely always feel some precursor like overwhelm, self-doubt, feelings of not being good enough, comparisonitis, or imposter syndrome when you’re about to make a brave decision.

    When you can detach from the volatility of these precursors and come to understand that they are natural markers of exciting progress—not the end of the road but just a stop sign along the way—you can pivot from nervous self-sabotage to determined advancement.

    2. Feel your feelings.

    All of us are guilty of modulating our emotions in ways we know don’t serve us. Maybe for you it’s scrolling through social media or going out with friends. It could be a glass of wine or an extra piece of chocolate cake.

    I always find myself drawn toward a Netflix comedy special when I’m overwhelmed. Or I just watch TV in general to take my mind off of what’s coming up.

    I want to stress that there’s nothing wrong with these behaviors in moderation. In fact, these pleasures are meant for us to enjoy in our time here on earth. But if we’re constantly procrastinating with these behaviors, they become a warning sign of self-sabotage about to occur.

    This is because the root of all self-sabotage is avoiding an uncomfortable emotion.

    When we convince ourselves not to follow an inspired idea, we may believe that we are “protecting” ourselves from more concrete things, like our friends and family judging us, loss of money, or loss of time. But these are just neutral circumstances that don’t have an emotion inherently attached to them.

    What we are actually protecting ourselves against is the uncomfortable emotion our brain produces from these circumstances, like disappointment, shame, or guilt if we fail.

    A mentor once shared with me a hypothetical story—that if aliens came down to earth and asked humans about the emotion of shame, the humans would shudder and describe it as the absolute worst feeling in the world. The curious aliens would be intrigued by this bold claim and ask the humans, “Wow, what happens when you feel shame? Does your face melt off? Do you break out in hives? Do you start bleeding profusely and die!?”

    The humans would probably turn sheepish and say, “Um, no, actually. My tummy just hurts.”

    I share this anecdote to illustrate that feeling emotions doesn’t cause us bodily harm. It’s just uncomfortable.

    But given all that we’ve overcome in our lives, all the adversity we face each day, and the strength of the human spirit that unites us, a little discomfort is nothing we can’t handle. It’s so worth it for the exciting life waiting on the other side of our bravery.

    To stop ourselves from self-sabotaging and move forward, we need to learn how to face and feel those emotions. (I promise your face won’t melt off when you do!) When we feel the shame, embarrassment, and disappointment fully, their potency will dissipate, and we’ll be able to access objective clarity.

    The simplest way to feel your emotions is to sit down somewhere quiet and identify the emotion that you’re feeling. What is the name of it? (Fear, disappointment, panic, and worry are common examples.

    Then, set a timer for one minute and feel the emotion. I don’t mean think about the emotion. I mean FEEL the sensation in your body that this emotion creates.

    Where is the emotion in your body—your chest, your hands, your throat, your stomach? Does it have a color or a shape? Does it have a weight?

    Touch your hand to where you feel it most in your body and allow yourself to fully experience the sensation over the course of one minute. Chances are high that just directing your attention to this emotion for one full minute will allow its potency to dissipate and give you back your sense of higher thinking.

    3. Take ownership of your story.

    Once our emotions have been fully felt and respected, we can start to think critically to address the root of our self-sabotage.

    A favorite question of mine is, “What is the story here?”

    Remember that your brain is initiating self-sabotage to keep you from feeling an uncomfortable emotion. But it had to get evidence from somewhere that this action you’re about to take would result in disaster. So… where in the past did a similar situation play out that ended in an uncomfortable emotion?

    Let’s say you come across a flyer announcing open auditions for a local musical. It piques your interest, and you get excited to audition, picturing yourself on stage and all the fun you’d have as a performer. But then you start to hear the precursors of, “I’m not good enough, I don’t have the time, I could never do that,” which dampens your spirits and causes internal conflict.

    If the last time you auditioned for a musical, your voice broke on the high note, and you didn’t get the part, we can’t fault your brain for sending you those precursors! It wants to pump the brakes and protect you at all costs from that previous feeling of embarrassment. And those thoughts of “not good enough” have always been effective at stopping you in your tracks.

    But with clarity and compassion, we can see this experience for what it is—just a story in the past. A story that doesn’t have anything to do with our future, unless we continue to bring it into the present by calling it to mind.

    When you ask yourself, “What is the story here?” quietly observe how your brain automatically floats a memory or long-held belief to the surface. Once you’ve identified the source, you can now ask yourself one last powerful question:

    “Do I want to be the steward of this story anymore?”

    We all have a choice, each moment of every day, to hold onto stories from our past or let them go.

    The stories we hold onto provided us safety at a time. The story of the musical audition protected us from more embarrassment of daring to believe in ourselves again and possibly failing. If we trusted someone before, and they broke that trust, our story of “I can’t trust others or open up to them” protects us from that pain of unreciprocated vulnerability.

    It’s important to honor and recognize that these stories did serve a purpose and did protect you for a time. But to stop self-sabotage and move forward in brave action, we can let the stories that hold us back go. We can start to recognize and get excited about all that is waiting for us on the other side of releasing this story, allowing us to write new stories and access our truest inspired life.

    –

    Sometimes it’s difficult to see the forest for the trees. It’s important to find compassion for yourself when you notice self-sabotaging behavior and realize that it’s just your brain playing a fun trick to keep you safe from the unknown. Luckily, these tricks are predictable, and once we learn to see them as a good sign, feel our feelings, and release old stories, we can continue to grow into our bravest, boldest selves.

  • How I Claimed My Right to Belong While Dealing with Imposter Syndrome

    How I Claimed My Right to Belong While Dealing with Imposter Syndrome

    TRIGGER WARNING: This post briefly references sexual abuse.

    “Never hold yourself back from trying something new just because you’re afraid you won’t be good enough. You’ll never get the opportunity to do your best work if you’re not willing to first do your worst and then let yourself learn and grow.” ~Lori Deschene

    The year 2022 was the hardest of my life. And I survived a brain tumor before that.

    My thirtieth year started off innocently enough. I was living with my then-boyfriend in Long Beach and had a nice ring on my finger. The relationship had developed quickly, but it seemed like kismet. Unfortunately, we broke up around June. And that’s when the madness began.

    I believe it to be the extreme heat of the summer that somehow wrought this buried pain from underneath my pores to come up. Except the pain didn’t evaporate. It stayed stagnant, and I felt suffocated.

    There were excruciating memories of being sexually abused as a child. Feelings of intense helplessness came along. I had nightmares every night, and worse, a feeling of horrendous shame when I woke up. All of this made me suicidal.

    Before I knew it, every two weeks I was being hospitalized for powerful bouts of depression, PTSD, and the most severe anxiety that riddled my bones.

    This intense, almost trance-like experience of going in and out of hospitals seemed like the only way to cope with life. I felt broken, beyond repair. I gained a lot of weight and shaved my head and then regretted it. My self-esteem plummeted.

    I felt like I didn’t belong to society anymore. I’d had superficial thoughts like this before, growing up in the punk scene, but the experience of constantly being in and out of mental hospitals was beyond being “fringe.” I felt extremely alienated.

    With many hospitalizations in 2022, I was losing myself. Conservatorship was now on the table. I was terrified and angry at the circumstances fate had bestowed upon me.

    In my final hospitalization in December, I suffered tortuously. I was taken off most of the benzos I was on, and I was withdrawing terribly, alone in a room at the psych ward. My hands and feet were constantly glazed in a cold sweat.

    I was so on-edge that every sound outside my door jerked my head up. The girl next door would sob super loud, in real “boo-hoos,” and do so for hours on end. It eroded me. I would scream at her to stop, but she would then cry louder.

    If there was a hell on earth, this was it. I told myself, with gritted teeth, staring out the window, that this would be my last time in a psych ward. No matter how miserable I was, I would just cope with it. I didn’t want to deal with this anymore.

    So I made a commitment to myself to really try to get better. Hope was hatched by that intense amount of pain. I knew I had a long journey ahead to heal, but that there was no other way but up.

    After that final hospitalization, I joined a residential program that helped me form new habits. There was a sense of healing and community there. I felt a mentorship connection with one of the workers, who was a recovered drug addict.

    I was glad I was finally doing a little better. I realized I shouldn’t have gone to the hospital so much and perhaps should have plugged into one of the residential places first.

    This year has been easier as a result of sticking to treatment and addressing some of the issues that were plaguing me. I now have better coping mechanisms to deal with symptoms of PTSD, as well as some better grounding techniques.

    As a result, I’ve been able to go back to work, despite still dealing with intense anxiety. For the first time in a while, I feel hopeful for my life. But I can’t help but getting hit with a barrage of thoughts before I go to work.

    This whole thing I’m going through is commonly known as “imposter syndrome.” Basically, it feels like I don’t belong where I’m going in order to make the quality of my life better. I feel like a fake or a phony, afraid my coworkers will understand who I really am—someone who has struggled with PTSD and depression.

    As a result, some days are more difficult than others when it comes to showing up at work. I’ll have mini panic attacks in the restroom. There’s an overwhelming feeling of surrealness.

    Although I’m glad to have gotten out of the merry-go-round of doom, putting on a happy face and attempting to appear as a healthy, well-adjusted person is too much sometimes.

    And I know it’s not just in my situation that people experience imposter syndrome. Some people that were once extremely overweight feel out of place once they’ve lost their extra pounds. Others who are the minority in race or gender where they work can also feel like they don’t belong.

    I’ve come to realize this is a universal experience, the feeling of “not belonging.” It’s also a syndrome of lack of self-worth. I try to tackle this in baby steps every day.

    Here are some things I try to live by to feel more secure where I’m trying to thrive.

    I ask myself, “Why NOT me?”

    There’s a Buddhist quote that suggests, when you’re suffering, instead of asking, “Why me?”, you’re supposed to humble yourself by asking, “Why NOT me?” But I think this is also relevant to feelings of belonging.

    When you feel like you don’t belong, ask yourself, “Why NOT me?” Why wouldn’t you deserve to belong, when everyone else does, despite their varied challenges? This sort of thinking levels the playing field.

    I remind myself of my worth.

    I could spend hours thinking about why I’m not adequate or deserving. But I try to think about why I do have a right to be there. I deserve to get a paycheck like everyone else. I deserve to work, no matter what I’ve been through, and to value the sense of belonging offered through my coworkers.

    I try to power through my inner resistance.

    Many days this is more difficult than others, but I know if my greater goal is improving my life and feeling like I belong to society again, its worth challenging all the mental resistance I feel. I also know that my feelings will change over time if I keep pushing through them.

    Cherish the times of connection.

    There are times at work where I feel really connected to my coworkers, even though I doubt we have the same psychiatric history. I try to savor those times of connection because they keep me going. Since we are social beings, it is important to us to feel connected.

    Take comfort in knowing this will fade.

    Already, having just worked a few weeks at this job, my feelings of imposter syndrome are starting to fade. If I had known this would happen in the beginning, I wouldn’t have put so much anxiety on myself. If you’re going through this too in any capacity, just remember that the feelings are only temporary and will pass as you find your footing.

    Make peace with your past.

    Everyone has a past, some that may feel more shameful than others. But don’t conflate that with your right to belong and be a contributing member of society. Sure, some things are harder to rebound from than others, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t get past them. And that doesn’t mean you need to be defined or limited by your past challenges.

    Validate your feelings of struggle.

    Although it would be nice to just use denial to move forward, that’s not possible since you know the truth. You know what you’ve been through and how it’s affected you. I validate my experience in the struggle by going to support groups after work. That way I’m not gaslighting myself, pretending I’m fine. It’s just about knowing there’s a time and place for that unheard, marginalized part of yourself.

    —

    We all put on a brave face to be accepted, but we all deserve to belong, regardless of how we’ve struggled.

    Don’t let your struggles define you. Instead, validate the fact that they have given you the strength to get where you are now.

  • My Deepest, Darkest Secret: Why I Never Felt Good Enough

    My Deepest, Darkest Secret: Why I Never Felt Good Enough

    “Loving ourselves through the process of owning our story is the bravest thing we’ll ever do.” ~Brené Brown

    Lunge, turn, reverse, jump, land and rebound, push, pull, cut, run, double turn, fling, pause…

    Not good enough! Smooth the transitions, make it cleaner, find more ease!

    Heart pounds, ragged breath, muscles burn…

    You need more weight on the lunge and point your damn feet when you jump. Do it again.

    Repeat. Lunge, turn, reverse, jump, land and rebound, push, pull, cut, run, double turn, fling, pause…

    What is your problem? Why is it so sloppy? Clean it up! Do it again.

    Not good enough, do it again carved a deep groove into my brain, branding it like a wild bull by a hot iron. Not good enough. My mind, not my teacher, was brutalizing me, taunting me, teaching me “discipline” to improve my dancing.

    I improved—enough to become a professional dancer—but I couldn’t internalize or recognize any of my accomplishments. 

    Even after being asked to join a dance company before I graduated college, I continued to struggle with “not being good enough.” Despite the many compliments I received for my performance and choreography, I brushed them away thinking that they were lying to me, just placating me with false praise.

    I faltered in my performance, felt paralyzed by fear that would not always fade away once the performance began, distrusted my ability to remember the choreography, always fought the anxiety of being in front of an audience, and cried oceans of tears because I could never reach the bar I had set for myself. My confidence and faith in my ability to perform to the level that I wanted to plummeted.

    I loved dancing so much. I loved moving my body through space, the creative process, and working with a group of talented dancers to create shows. I loved rehearsals because I felt relaxed and at ease, like I could perform with the freedom that I couldn’t feel onstage. I loved refining and smoothing transitions and was described as a “liquid” dancer. I loved expressing my style through my movement.

    But the tension between my passion and my insecurity created an internal trip cord. I didn’t trust myself. In rehearsal I was militant about practicing the steps over and over, even when everyone was exhausted, because I still didn’t trust that I knew the choreography.

    I had made mistakes before, blanked out onstage, and felt deep humiliation and shame for not performing someone else’s choreography as well as I should have or meeting a paying audience’s expectations. I was proud that I had so much stamina to rehearse twice as hard as I needed to. If I rehearsed extra. then maybe it would finally quiet the critical voice in my head.

    It didn’t quiet the critic and the cycle continued.

    The shame of being a mediocre dancer led to working harder, but fear of making mistakes or not reaching the goal led to fear of being seen as mediocre, which led, once again, to shame. Shame is dark, subtle, slippery. Over and over, I went through this cycle, the shame cave becoming deeper and darker, until I was lost in it, burned out from so much effort and so little reward.  

    After ten years of pushing myself to learn, pushing against my fears, pushing myself to excel, and beating myself up along the way, I couldn’t push through any longer. I had nothing left to give. The trickling current of anxiety and depression became a flood and swallowed me up into a profound depression. Everything felt arduous, even the simplest daily tasks.

    I looked at people in the streets around me and thought, “How is everybody not depressed? How is anybody smiling?” But they were—smiling, laughing, moving through their days effortlessly, accomplishing wonderful things—and I was not. I was depleted of all vitality.

    I quit performing and turned to my yoga practice to help heal from the burnout. I learned therapeutic yogic principles about balancing effort and ease, surrender, non-grasping, contentment, non-violence (even toward oneself).

    It seemed only natural to become certified as a yoga teacher and, as I began to teach, I encountered the same insecurities. The same thoughts arose—I need to be an excellent yoga teacher, need to create excellent sequences, have excellent pacing, use excellent language to help guide students into an excellent experience. I felt the same performance anxiety—debilitating self-consciousness. 

    What are they thinking about me? Am I giving them what they need? There are so many different people in my class. They are different ages with different bodies and different life experiences. What do I know to teach other people?  I have only ever been a dancer so how do I know what other people need for their bodies?  

    I didn’t want to harm anyone because I didn’t know enough or have enough information and, once again, I quit after a couple of years.

    My deepest darkest secret, feeling inherently flawed and chronically inadequate, took up space in my heart and my throat. Rent-free. In fact, I was paying for its unwelcome residence. 

    My next strategy was simply to take the pressure off myself. I chose low-pressure jobs that didn’t require a big performance from me. I was lucky and these were jobs that I liked that suited me well as I slowly healed from years of chronic self-abuse.

    In my early forties I came across a term that I identified with—imposter syndrome.

    High achievers’ fear of being exposed as a fraud or imposter. Unable to accept accolades or compliments or awards for one’s talent, skill, or experience.

    Imposters suffer from chronic self-doubt and a sense of intellectual fraudulence that override any feelings of success or external proof of their competence.

    I thought, “That sounds like something I can relate to,” but I wasn’t ready to face it head on. I was finally feeling contented in a job that I liked, without the pressures of performing in ways that touched that deep insecurity, and I wanted to soak that contentment in.

    And then Covid-19 happened, and I lost that job.

    Midway through the pandemic, in an effort to be proactive about the next phase of my life, I turned my attention to developing a yoga therapy practice. Create a mission and vision. Come up with content and language. Identify my audience. Create a website and so on. And again, I came up against the deepest darkest secret that had been so blissfully dormant for several years. I was surprised at its potency, but I decided I was ready to face it head on.

    I remembered imposter syndrome and started researching again. Again, I checked all the boxes—except one. In so many articles that I read, examples were given of well-known people who struggled with imposter syndrome. These are people who have achieved extraordinary things, are in the public eye, and have either overcome or pushed through their demons to go on to incredible accomplishments.

    Naturally, I thought, “Well, I’m no celebrity, have no major awards or accomplishments to speak of, and I haven’t achieved that much in my career, so this probably doesn’t actually apply to me.”  

    Such is imposter syndrome.

    Comparison to others (who we deem higher achieving than we are) will trigger a cascade of shame and doubt. 

    Few people actually talk about imposter syndrome—either they don’t know about it or don’t want to discuss it because of the deep feelings of shame or insecurity that accompany it.

    I want you who silently struggle with imposter syndrome or dysmorphia or profound shame and insecurity to know that I, too, have struggled, but it’s getting better.

    Drop by drop, my cup fills as I take every opportunity to be kind to myself where in the past I would have criticized.

    Having studied positive neuroplasticity, I now understand our brains’ negativity bias and the protective role of the inner critic. I have a newfound appreciation for our natural protective mechanisms and gratitude for the ability of the brain to learn and grow new skills.

    I’m starting small, taking small steps to create an inner garden of welcome. A beautiful nurturing place where I invite one or two for tea and laugh and share experiences and stories.

    And after some time, I hope the garden will expand and the walls begin to crumble a little and I can have a small group for tea, stories, and dancing. And then gradually over time, the garden will expand further so that I can host more people in for tea, stories, dancing, and games.

    I can imagine that remnants of the walls will remain as a reminder of where I’ve been, and I can look at them with gratitude for keeping me safe for a while as I softened and settled and tended to the garden within.