How to get over self-sabotaging thoughts and feelings? Part 2 of 3.

This is the second of a three-part series about limiting beliefs: how to identify them, uncover their emotional power, and ultimately transform them into thoughts that “spark joy."
Click here to read the first part.

It's 11:45am on a rainy Parisian spring day. I walk into an empty restaurant where I have plans to meet a friend for lunch an hour later. 

I tell the woman behind the counter that I’m early for lunch, but that I’d like to have a coffee and sit and work a bit before my friend arrives. 

“There’s no one in the kitchen now,” she snips. 

“That’s fine, I’m not ordering any food yet,” I say.

“How many will you be?” she asks. 

“Just two.”

She points to a table by the door and tells me that’s the only table for two that’s available. 

It’s raining and chilly outside and I ask whether I can sit somewhere further inside.

She points to another table in the back, by the toilets. 

I’m not feeling that location either. Especially since every single seat in the place is currently empty and it's just a casual, neighborhood place. 

I spot a little table for two on the cushioned couch in the center of the restaurant and ask if I can sit there. 

She rolls her eyes, let's out a huge exasperated sigh and nods “yes” reluctantly.  

I walk calmly over to the table, take off my backpack and my bright red raincoat. As I start to sit down I hear the dull thud of old coffee being banged out of the portafilter and the hissing of steam on the espresso machine. 

I turn around and say, “oh, I’d like an allongée” (an americano)  not the regular short café that I assume she’s starting to make.


She lets out another enormous sigh, so loud this time that I can feel her distain wash over my body like the Polar vortex.

My throat seizes, my heart starts racing. I want to scream and run out of there. 

In the 45 seconds that this entire scene unfolds a million thoughts have raced through my mind. 

“I hate this woman!”

“I’m going to walk out of here.”

“I’m going to leave a bad review on Yelp.”

“I should contact the owner and complain.” 

“This would never happen in America.”

“People are evil.”

The emotions that boiled up were a mix of hatred, anger, even guilt. ("How did I provoke this?")

And then I took a deep breath and thought about my last message to you about tracking self-sabotaging thoughts and feelings, which brought on a wave of new ones:

“She must be having a hard day.”

“This job clearly isn’t working out for her.”

“Interacting with humans is hard when you're miserable.”

“It’s not you Zeva, it’s her.”

“Write about this and you’ll feel better.”

I suddenly felt more calm, grounded, confident, and even grateful as I found the tools to transform this experience into something positive. 

How did that all happen? If we slow down the process frame-by-frame, like in a comic book, this is how thoughts and emotions work together. 

• We experience something 

• Our beliefs and thoughts give meaning to that experience

• We feel an emotion

• We react to our feelings

• We experience the consequences of our reactions

Ultimately our beliefs trigger emotions, which then trigger actions. 

Most beliefs are based on stories that have developed into truths over a long time. 

Sometimes those beliefs were born well before we were. They’ve been passed along like soft, hand-me-downs from one generation to another. They can go way, way back. 

When my clients use expressions that are clearly not from their generation, I take it is a cue to start digging around to the root of the belief, and the emotions that swim in its wake. 

Neuroscientist Lisa Feldman Barrett sums this process up exceptionally well in her fascinating book How Emotions Are Made.

"Everything you feel is based on prediction from your knowledge and past experience. You are truly an architect of your experience. Believing is feeling."

As architects of our experience, we can rewire our mind to create new beliefs and emotions, and turn most situations around. 

Just like my experience in the restaurant:

• Change the belief

• Alter the emotion

• Cue up a new range of options

• Chose the action that suits you best

So let’s explore the beliefs that you've jotted down since my last blogpost. If you’re in need of a few here are some that I’ve collected from some generous donors. 

“I’m not good enough.”

“I’m not creative enough.”

“I’ll never find my path”

“I’m too old.”

“I’m finished.”

"I'm unlovable.”

Now, let me ask you, do any of those beliefs sound familiar to you? 

What emotions do they trigger?

Are they useful emotions? 

Are they emotions that lift you up and inspire? 

Or do they make your blood boil? 

And your heart sink? 

Next steps:

Go back to your list of limiting beliefs (or start a new one), read them over and write down whatever emotions or sensations come up when you think of them.

And then ask yourself:

• What is it like to live with this belief? 

• Who might I be and what might I be able to do if I let this belief go?

I'll see you soon with some tools on how to transform your limiting beliefs into ones that spark joy and get your moving ahead with meaning, at a comfortable table with the beverage of choice in your hands :) 

PPS. Oh, and one more thing: I'm doing a vision board workshop on May 17th in Paris and have 4 spots left. Click here to snatch yours up. It's a fun and creative way to visualize your hidden goals while tackling any limiting beliefs and fears that are holding you back from going after them. 

When Ideas Get Under Your Skin

I had a very intimidating social studies teacher in High School named Mr Savage. 

He would walk into the classroom, silently go up to the blackboard, scribble a provocative open question, like “What is democracy?” in his chicken-scratch handwriting and then stare back at the class with his beady little eyes. (can you tell how much of a fan I was??)

He’d smile slyly with pinched lips revealing a little scar alongside his mouth. Then he’d gesture to the class to let the debate begin. 

I dreaded that moment. I was a shy and insecure adolescent and that kind of intellectual dogfighting made me shrink even further into my shell. 

Mr Savage didn’t give homework, but he did assign two big writing projects per year that were famously tough. For one project we had to propose our ideal presidential candidate and then argue and defend why we thought he or she should win.

Feeling totally overwhelmed, I asked my dad for help. He’s a school teacher and a very opinionated liberal. This kind of thing was totally his cup of tea.  

He suggested Ralph Nader. This was back in 1990 and Nader at the time was a relative unknown. It seemed like a cool, underground pick. I let me dad run with it. 

My dad wound up writing most of the paper. I was nervous handing in the assignment and felt a bit guilty about getting a great grade on something I didn’t write on my own. Then I was thrown a curveball: I got a really shitty, grade on that paper. Or rather, my dad got a really shitty grade. 

And what was the message that stuck with me after this experience? Not, “cheating is bad”, or “Ralph Nadar is a terrible presidential candidate,” or “failing with your own ideas is better than failing with someone else’s”. 

No, the one that stuck for me was:

You’re a terrible writer, Zeva. Your dad thought so, that’s why he wrote your paper.  

I lived with this belief for a long time. In college, writing assignments were torturous. I’d spend double the time as my peers on my papers. I was ashamed every time I handed something in. Even when I got positive feedback on my work I was convinced that someone was just being generous and feeling pity for me. 

The belief penetrated under my skin and became my ugly little secret:  I was a terrible writer and a fraud for getting into my school. 

Five years after graduation I moved to Paris and went on an interview at a magazine where a friend of mine had worked. Rebecca, the editor-in-chief of the magazine who interviewed me asked if I had any writing experience. I said “not outside of the writing I did in college.” She answered back,  “well, you seem smart, and if you got through Vassar I’m sure you can write.” 

She hired me on the spot. 

I was thrilled to get a job, but terrified that my ugly little secret would slowly reveal its disgusting face and she’d realize that I was a total fraud. 

But it was my job. I had no other choice. I had to write. And I started to get better and better at it. 

Over time, I got some extra freelance jobs. People started to pay me well for my words. 

I was slowly and steadily growing into the person that I was convinced I was not. A writer! Go figure. 

Where am I going with this?

I speak to a lot of people who feel like they’re not credible or capable of doing something because long ago they had a bad experience, or were told that they weren’t great at it. 

Over time, those feelings grow into beliefs and get more massive, dense and resilient until they become as real and unquestionable as the nose on your face.  

How does this happen? 

“Ideas get under your skin, simply by sticking around for long enough”  explains the neuroscientist Lisa Feldman Barrett in her book (that I’m obsessed with), How Emotions Are Made.  “Once an idea is hard-wired, you might not be in a position to easily reject it.”

Some of these hard-wired, unshakeable beliefs could be:

I’m bad at writing 

I’m bad at relationship

I’m bad with numbers

I’m bad at business

I’m bad with conflict

I’m bad at confrontation

I’m bad at making decisions

I’m bad at making changes

I’m bad at being bad….

There is nothing concrete about these beliefs. They’re just dirty little secrets that prevent us from taking action on what we want. From seizing opportunities to igniting change. 

What dirty little secret prevents you from moving forward with meaning?

I promise, I won’t tell :)