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Cultivating Self-Trust

Camille I were in the middle of our session when she causally said, "When something feels off in my body, I now know that it's because I'm believing something that just isn't true."

 

We looked at each other and laughed. Because Camille and her body weren’t always humming to the same tune. 

 

Earlier on in our coaching, her body was like a racehorse designed for efficiency, duty and productivity.

 

It had the potential to sense and intuit, to switch lanes and directions when it felt the need, but its blinders were so thick and tight that it was on a toxic auto-pilot track headed for imminent burnout. 

 

I love a good visual metaphor. So what could the blinders represent in this story you think?


What prevents a woman from being able to trust the signals that her body sends her about what feels good or bad?


So many of my clients come to me because they’re trying to get to a place that feels better for them professionally, but they’re terrified by what they might discover in themselves with their blinders off. 

Camille I were in the middle of our session when she causally said, "When something feels off in my body, I now know that it's because I'm believing something that just isn't true."

 

We looked at each other and laughed. Because Camille and her body weren’t always humming to the same tune. 

 

Earlier on in our coaching, her body was like a racehorse designed for efficiency, duty and productivity.

 

It had the potential to sense and intuit, to switch lanes and directions when it felt the need, but its blinders were so thick and tight that it was on a toxic auto-pilot track headed for imminent burnout. 

 

I love a good visual metaphor. So what could the blinders represent in this story you think?


What prevents a woman from being able to trust the signals that her body sends her about what feels good or bad?


So many of my clients come to me because they’re trying to get to a place that feels better for them professionally, but they’re terrified by what they might discover in themselves with their blinders off. 


Why? Because they've been taught to believe that those blinders provide control and security. 


Control and security over what? 


Our careers? 


Our social status? 


Our families? 


All of those make sense.


But when you realize that it’s impossible to control anything outside of ourselves 100%, we get to something a bit more complex. 


As women in a patriarcal society, we’ve been brilliantly taught to mistrust what happens inside of us. We’ve been taught to mistrust:
 

  • Our emotions. 

  • Our resilience.

  • Our power.

  • Our opinions. 

  • Our needs. 


How did we get to a place where we are so distrusting of ourselves? 


How did we get to a place where we’re better at controlling and numbing our needs and desires than becoming curious about what they might be telling us?


And, more importantly, how can we build a bridge into ourselves, into our self trust that doesn’t also freak us out and halt us in our tracks?

That goal, the one above, is what my clients and I strive to achieve in our journey together. 


To get them to a place, like Camille, where they can gradually loosen the blinders, see what they're falsely protecting us from, and learn to listen to and trust the power and potential deep within in order to guide them forward. 


PS.If you want to learn how to build self trust and self knowing so you can feel your way to your next career move, book a call with me here.

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"Don't Get Great At The Thing You Don't Want To Be"

It was an annual summer visit back home and my High School Brooklyn buddy Paul and I were catching up. 

At the time, I was working at Yelp. I had a prestigious position and the perks to go with it: great salary, business trips, stock options, a supportive boss and inspiring team. 

I was explaining my work situation to Paul when I started to feel my stomach tense up. Even with the dirty vodka martini and upstate small town tavern vibe, the conversation was tilting into 360-degree performance review territory. 

“It’s all going well," I explained, taking a nervous sip of my cocktail. "But when I'm honest with myself I’m not sure how much longer I want to do this. What’s scary is that I think I’m in line for a "keys-to-the-castle" promotion that I won’t be able to refuse, but ultimately don’t want.” 

Then Paul said something that made me put down my glass and break into a small sweat. “Don’t get great at the thing you don’t want to be.” 

Since he uttered that phrase it's been ingrained in my soul. It hit a nerve, and gave language to what I was hiding from everyone, including myself. 

It was an annual summer visit back home and my High School Brooklyn buddy Paul and I were catching up. 

At the time, I was working at Yelp. I had a prestigious position and the perks to go with it: great salary, business trips, stock options, a supportive boss and inspiring team. 

I was explaining my work situation to Paul when I started to feel my stomach tense up. Even with the dirty vodka martini and upstate small town tavern vibe, the conversation was tilting into 360-degree performance review territory. 

“It’s all going well," I explained, taking a nervous sip of my cocktail. "But when I'm honest with myself I’m not sure how much longer I want to do this. What’s scary is that I think I’m in line for a "keys-to-the-castle" promotion that I won’t be able to refuse, but ultimately don’t want.” 

Then Paul said something that made me put down my glass and break into a small sweat. “Don’t get great at the thing you don’t want to be.” 

Since he uttered that phrase it's been ingrained in my soul. It hit a nerve, and gave language to what I was hiding from everyone, including myself. 

By going above and beyond, by being hyper invested, by feeling like I was the best-qualified heir to the throne, I was pretending not to feel stuck in the golden prison of my "perfect" job.

Do you know what that feels like,? A lot of the women I’ve speak with about my coaching program, do.

They’ve become so good at masking their doubts by overachieving at their job, surpassing every one else’s expectations, that feeling stuck has starting to feel, well, normal.  

When they ask me, "Doesn’t everyone feel stuck?” My response is “No, you’ve just gotten used to feeling that way.”

If that sounds like you,  I highly encourage you to reach out for a free discovery call to discuss how my coaching program can help you:

  • Feel aligned with what you’re doing

  • Feel stimulated and in flow again

  • Take concrete steps to bring that feeling back into your life

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Our Genes Have Emotional Memories Too

An old newspaper clipping posted in our family’s Facebook group made every cell in my body tingle.

Published in the Humboldt, Iowa, local newspaper in 1921, the article described my great grandmother’s epic exodus from her war-torn Russian village to her safe arrival in her new American town.


Here's an excerpt:

“Finally Mrs. Serber secured aid and six months ago succeeded in reaching Roumania. One of her daughters died, and Mrs. Serber and the remaining child finally reached Paris. Snuggling on their way, mother and daughter were helped to Belgium. She arrived in Antwerp and sailed on the steamer Lapland. After ten days at sea the mother and daughter were landed at Ellis Island.”

I already knew about my great grandmother’s horrific loss of her two-year-old daughter, Myala, who fell fatally ill during their treacherous journey over. But what I didn’t know, yet viscerally felt, was that my great grandmother had passed through Paris on her way to America.

For as long as I’ve been irrationally obsessed with France I’ve wondered what hidden forces drew me to this culture, this country, and more specifically, Paris.

Discovering that my great grandmother had once walked the City of Light's cobblestoned streets felt like a small clue.

Maybe she loved the city, and wished she could return under different circumstances.

Maybe she felt at home, but had to push on.

Maybe something magical, or mysterious happened to her here.

Maybe she saw the bustling boulevards filled with cafes and escaped her misery for a moment over coffee with some locals.

In any case, I feel like she passed a Parisian seed through the family gene pool that germinated and blossomed inside of me.

Often in my coaching a client is deeply attached to an emotion, narrative or system of beliefs that feels so entrenched that it could well be ancient history.

An old newspaper clipping posted in our family’s Facebook group made every cell in my body tingle. 

Published in the Humboldt, Iowa, local newspaper in 1921, the article described my great grandmother’s epic exodus from her war-torn Russian village to her safe arrival in her new American town. 


Here's an excerpt:

“Finally Mrs. Serber secured aid and six months ago succeeded in reaching Roumania. One of her daughters died, and Mrs. Serber and the remaining child finally reached Paris. Snuggling on their way, mother and daughter were helped to Belgium. She arrived in Antwerp and sailed on the steamer Lapland. After ten days at sea the mother and daughter were landed at Ellis Island.”

I already knew about my great grandmother’s horrific loss of her two-year-old daughter, Myala, who fell fatally ill during their treacherous journey over. But what I didn’t know, yet viscerally felt, was that my great grandmother had passed through Paris on her way to America. 

For as long as I’ve been irrationally obsessed with France I’ve wondered what hidden forces drew me to this culture, this country, and more specifically, Paris. 

Discovering that my great grandmother had once walked the City of Light's cobblestoned streets felt like a small clue. 

Maybe she loved the city, and wished she could return under different circumstances. 

Maybe she felt at home, but had to push on. 

Maybe something magical, or mysterious happened to her here. 

Maybe she saw the bustling boulevards filled with cafes and escaped her misery for a moment over coffee with some locals. 

In any case, I feel like she passed a Parisian seed through the family gene pool that germinated and blossomed inside of me.  

Often in my coaching a client is deeply attached to an emotion, narrative or system of beliefs that feels so entrenched that it could well be ancient history. 

In our exploration, we sometimes find that these feelings and thoughts have been transmitted invisibly over generations, like familiar hand-me-downs you’ve been wearing for years, but whose original owners are long gone. 

The latest research in epigenetics reveals that our genes have a “memory” and that unprocessed emotions and experiences can be transmitted from one generation to another. 

If you're curious like me  about the provenance of certain longings, behaviors and emotions, I highly recommend the riveting new non-fiction book, Emotional Inheritance

Written by Dr. Galit Atlas, an Israeli psychoanalyst who lives in New York, the book is presented as a fascinating series of therapy vignettes. In each chapter we go behind-the-scenes as Atlas and her patients unravel present-day problems by uncovering and processing emotional material that sometimes goes back generations. As Atlas explains "when we heal ourselves, we also begin to heal the generations that came before us: our parents; our grandparents; our great grandparents and beyond."

Run, don’t walk to pick up your copy.  It's one of the most thrilling, and mind-bending books I've read in years and I’m sure it will be made into a Netflix series! 

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