That story you tell yourself about yourself is keeping you stuck; and ... it's way out of date

Using awareness to respond rather than react

“Between stimulus and response, there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and freedom.”

                                      Viktor Frankl, author of Man’s Search for Meaning

“I’m an idiot.”

Just about everyone has a line that jumps out of his or her mouth when the proverbial hits the fan.

It’s the explanation. The answer to why. The well-worn rationale that makes sense of whatever you have done or failed to do.

If you struggle closing out good rounds, you may lament “I can’t close.” If you crumble in competitions, “I’m a choker.” If you take three shots to get out of a bunker, “I suck in bunkers.”

It’s the same in life. If you’re always struggle to get things done on time, “I’m a last-minute girl.”

These explanations don’t make the sting go away, or lead us to a way forward, but these are the stories we tell about us. They’re like scripts we’ve written for ourselves.

There’s one problem: Your scripts are out date. Your stories are based on the past. Your story also doesn’t provide an avenue that allows you to perform better next time.

With some awareness, I believe you can. But first, a story.

In his old job, a client had told me that he received many emails each day from people requesting him to do various things. It was a daily battle to keep up, so he often took his laptop home. At home and away from work, he constantly looked at his phone.

The chronic feeling of being behind left him feeling exhausted and out of control. A conscientious man, he worried that he was a distracted and disengaged husband and father.

We worked together around talking with his boss about discerning which emails he should respond to, which he could pass to others, and about setting boundaries at home around when he would look at his phone or laptop.

He made headway, but he became increasingly disenchanted with the constraints of the job. After a year of consideration, he pulled the trigger on becoming an independent contractor. He was excited that he could set his own schedule and feel more connected to his family.

We spoke a few weeks ago. Unfortunately, he once again felt frustrated and overwhelmed. He had created such a strong network in his previous job that his services were hotly demanded. He tried to accommodate everyone.

“I’m always worried about disappointing people,” he said. “It’s just who I am.”

I asked him if how long he’d had this feeling. “All my life,” he said.

Throughout his life, when he felt overwhelmed, he was afraid he would let people down, and that they might be upset with him. It made him feel sick and worried, but he felt powerless to change it.

As we talked, he reminded me that he felt pressure from his father to be a high performer in sports. Unfortunately, his father was an over-involved sports dad who gave him hell for perceived under-performance. To avoid being lectured and berated, he felt compelled to always be a top performer no matter what. He was and remains so, but he’s paid a high price.

All children take on messages about themselves and create strategies to stay safe. As kids, we create a script to follow. When we’re stressed or triggered as adults, it’s like we’re in a trance; we’re ‘in it again.’

If you had a mother that raged ‘you’re a loser,’ it’s not usual that you’d have trouble closing tournaments. If a teacher told you were unathletic, it’s not usual that you believed her.

The stories we create and the strategies we employ as adults are based on our childhood experiences—before we had the mature perspective of an adult to discern and make sense of the world.

Thus, our reactions, behaviours, and our personalities are not who we are, and they don’t dictate what we’re capable of. They are compulsive reactions.

I told my client, “This is not who you are.”

In fact, he always has choices and options in the present on how he wants to respond.  

Making different choices starts with awareness. Unless you know what is happening, you’re powerless to change it.

For example, let’s say you hear yourself explaining that you’re a ‘choker’ or ‘I can’t putt’; now you’re able to respond in a way that serves you. Just that awareness that that you’re “in it,” that’s a start. Awareness is curative.

It doesn’t require anything more than simply pausing, perhaps taking a few deep breaths. It might include asking yourself, ‘What am I thinking about right now?’

Taking that moment, pressing pause, and asking a simple question is often enough for you to step out of the chaos, quiet your mind, develop some perspective, and see options and choices. It won’t instantly fix anything but creates a pathway to change.

The person who worries about finishing good rounds might start focusing on her breathing to stay in the present moment and remain calm. The poor bunker player could decide to take a lesson or two.

A few weeks after our conversation, my client told me that he still gets the feeling that he’s in danger of disappointing people, but “when I get this feeling, I feel better about how I’m handling it. I like the idea of having a choice.”

Like all of us, he’s a work in progress.

Choosing to react like we’ve always reacted is idiocy in a way, and we all do it. It’s part of being human. We constantly screw up. It’s good to know, however, that we’ve got choices on how we can respond.