Words for the Woman With a Story to Share

During a coaching session last week, a client of mine shared one of her biggest fears with me.

Maybe you can relate.
 
It’s a fear that I’ve heard many women I’ve worked with express. 
A fear that I’ve grappled with ad nauseam. 
And a fear that still visits me each time I sit down to write. 
In fact this fear is riding shotgun right now as I type these words. 
 
It’s the fear of sharing her voice. In her work, and in her life. 
Without apology or negotiation.
 
I’ve heard this challenge from women so often, and have felt it so acutely myself, that it seems important to address. 
For the sake of all of us who have a story to share, or a possibility we're yearning to create— 
but choose to stay quiet, or hide out, or sterilize our point of view into something more pleasing and agreeable for the sake of others.
 
Here’s my plea to you:
 
We need your strong voices. Your stories are valuable. 
Especially voices and stories that share the truth. 
We need as many as we can get
The truth of your experience... the truth of your perspective...
Tell us like it is. 
It’s what keeps us connected, how wisdom is passed down, how we all feel a little less alone. 
Speaking our truth without apology is how we set ourselves free…
From the constant concern of how others will see us.
From the expectations of who we “should” be. 
 
One hard truth. No one will ever give you the permission to take up space or be vocal. 
That permission is only self-granted.
Not to gender generalize, but this is especially true for women. 
It’s sucky, I know, but it’s the material that we’re working with. 
Which means that it’s up to us to learn how to share our voices in way that is decisive and meaningful. 
It’s our work. No one can hand us the permission slip. 
In fact..

Either we tell our stories or someone else will shape them for us.
There are plenty of people who are happy to tell us who they think we “should” be. It’s often well intentioned. In the guise of friendly advice. It also shapes us in their image. Which is not necessarily the truth of who we are. Something precious is lost in our silence. 

1:: NAME THE ARCHITECTS OF YOUR GLASS CIELINGS

Somewhere in our lives we’ve learned to fear what might happen if we let our voices be heard. 
The concern of negative impact or outcome.
 
If we sift through the contents of our experiences we can probably name the moments when our personal glass ceilings were constructed. 
 
Perhaps it was well meaning friends and family who encouraged you to “never change”. 
Maybe it was the mocking or teasing you faced when you let yourself be vulnerable. 
Or the mythology that women should be pretty and quiet that seeped into your family tree. 
 
One of my thickest glass ceilings was built in the 4th grade, when my well-intentioned mom forbade me from performing at the school talent show. 
 
I was planning a one-woman lip sync to En Vogue’s “Free Your Mind”, complete with a neon-green leotard and floppy brimmed hat, circa 1992. (Lord, I wish I had photo of this.)
I thought I was hot shit. I couldn’t wait to do my show. 
She told me I would embarrass myself. And put the kibosh on my performance.
 
In retrospect, I can understand where my mom was coming from. 
I was a chubby kid in a neon leotard, and it is a song with undertones that I was too young to understand. 
Her intention was to save me from the ridicule of my peers.
 
But It’s the first time I became painfully aware that making myself visible would also make me look foolish. 
 
We all have moments like this, as we learned how the world works, and how to safely navigate it. 
It’s our jobs to recognize where our beliefs stem from. Understand who helped us build them and why. Then give them a bless and release. 
 
Sometimes our glass ceilings crack in the moment we witness their construction. 
Oftentimes, it takes repeated work.  Like a mantra we carry with us, to chip at our ceiling each time that we hit it. 
Breaking through means truly releasing the story with full-on blessing and understanding. 
Because when we release our old hangups, fears, and mythologies, it’s actually us who is released. 
 
(Thank you mom, for protecting me. I set that story free.)

2:: INTERROGATE YOUR ANXIETY

If you’re skittish at the thought of sharing your voice, it might be time to take it to trial.
Invite your anxiety up to the witness stand and ask it to make a testimony. 
Chances are the evidence it will present sounds a little something like this:
 
“What if I share what I have to say and no one listens to me?
Or worse. They think I’m a fraud?
What if I’m criticized for what I believe in? 
Or people think I’m arrogant or a know it all? 
What if I fall flat on my face (and prove my worst fears right)?"
 
Cross examine your anxiety with a little Socratic Questioning: 

Is it True?

How do I know it’s true? 

Could it be another way?  

2 :: INVITE YOUR FEAR TO RIDE SHOTGUN 

Sometimes the most skillful thing we can do is make space for our fear to come along for the ride. 
 
Fear is a shape-shifter, especially when it comes to speaking up for ourselves.
 
In one moment, it may seem that we have our anxiety licked— after we’ve stood up for ourselves in a new way, or shared our story in a way that is brave and honest. 
And then…
Our anxiety puts on a different hat and shiny new shoes and manifests as a fresh doubt or hesitation when we’re reaching for our gumption. 
Slippery little sucker. 
 
Rather than trying to fight, crush, battle, or do something equally aggressive to our anxieties, take a moment to recognize that Fear’s main job is to look out for us. To keep us safe. To make sure we don’t hurt ourselves. 
 
Anxiety is actually our advocate, in a twisted, often misinformed way. 
 
When we recognize that our fear of sharing our voices is simply a personal defense, we can turn and look at it head on. 
Perhaps even thank it for it’s information. 
And then make space for it to ride shotgun in the front seat with us. As we go ahead act bravely anyway

6 Lessons from the Global Coaching Classroom

This week launched the beginning of a fresh round of coaching circles at The Institute for Integrative Nutrition.

A few times a year, I host group coaching calls for current students of my alma mater that have collected from across the globe. I'm joined by students from Dubai, Ireland, Texas, Japan, and many of the locations in between.

I lovingly think of these groups as my Global Coaching Classroom. I'm assigned eight groups. Twelve hours of coaching a week. 40+ women (and two lucky fellas), a cross section of personalities and backgrounds, with a sweet knitting-circle sort of vibe. 

We talk business and marketing. We get deep into coaching technique. We roll up our sleeves together and chart the course for the lives they want to create, while deconstructing what having their dreams would do for them.

It's all about extrinsic goals that give us an intrinsic feeling, and employing strategies to make that happen.

I've been coaching these groups for close to 6 years now, but it never fails to feel like the first day of school. The nerves. The expectation. The desire to leave them with golden nuggets and help them reveal their own perfect wisdom.

What inevitably happens in this "first week of school", though, is that I'm brought around to my own golden nuggets— tiny truths and solid reminders of why I love doing this work, how we're all better, more clear, and devoted to our dreams after having spent 7 weeks together. 

The students become the teachers. The teacher is a perpetual student. In a container of reciprocal learning, the lines are more blurred than we think. 

Here are 4 lessons that I was reminded of last week: Straight from the coaching classroom.

1 :: We all have a story to share. Give people a chance to tell theirs, and we're given an opportunity find the nooks and crannies where we all connect.

Although these groups of creative change-makers span cultures, ages, and locations on the global map, our differences became less blaring than our commonalities once we all began sharing our stories. What brought them to the table? What are their intentions? What are they looking to create and contribute? Who else might benefit from their vision?

Many have come from a path of challenge and healing. Many have a vision of leaving the world a little better than they found it. And all of us are perusing our personal definition of freedom. We’re different, complex, and all strikingly human. 

Lesson: When we give others a chance to tell their stories, we're given a gateway to our similarities in return.

2 :: One of the best forms of education is direct experience.

There's the information we read in books, and then there's the knowledge we've lived into our bones. 

This is any experience we've had close up, immersed ourselves in, kneaded it with our own two hands in such a way that it's left an impression in our skin and our psyches. Intimacy does that--intimacy with people, experiences, practices--closeness makes an impression.

Much can be said about academics and book smarts, but there’s another form of learning, brought to us by The School of Life, that can’t be underestimated. What have you lived through? What did that experience teach you? 

Are there rituals, skills, or circumstances that you’ve gained personal insight into, simply by spending time doing them?

Whether it’s playing the piano, juicing, soothsaying, or motherhood, the learning that comes from practicing repeatedly is what develops our “expertise”. 

Studying up on a topic is great, but DOING IT is how we alchemize information into understanding, and develop a well crafted perspective we can share. 

Lesson: Step away from the manual. Step into the experience of it. Keep an open heart/mind and you’ll learn along the way. 

3 :: Community connection is a healing modality.

As the doyenne of empathy, Brené Brown would say, shame breeds in isolation. It thrives on secrecy. And once it’s spoken, it dissipates. It’s easy to think that we’re the only ones who feel confused, overwhelmed and “not quite ___ enough” when we hide these feelings under the veneer of having our shit together. We’ve all done this on occasion. I know I'm not alone here. None of us wants to be perceived as a hot mess, a failure, a fraud. 

However, these feelings need oxygen to heal, and that comes in the form of connection. 

Sharing ourselves in totality with supportive, likeminded people reminds us that we’re not alone, and that others feel the same. It’s also a keen reminder that our emotions don’t have to break us, they can come along with us for the ride. And if that ride includes the support of others, it’s bound to be faster, smoother, and a whole lot more enjoyable. 

Lesson: Allowing ourselves to be seen, and encouraging each other to shine is a fast track to collective blossoming. 

4 :: Feeling grounded, authentic, and at home in our skin is a metric of success.

Recognition. Accolades. A seat at the Lady Boss table. Our name in flashing lights. We all have an idea of when we'll know we've "made it", and a personal inkling of what success looks like. But what does our version of success feel like; even if those external metrics never come to fruition?

Most of the time we're chasing an external idea of success because of the way we believe it will make us feel. 

Contentment, freedom, security, confidence, and the limitless permission slip of self expression come from being more at home with ourselves. The next time we take out the measuring stick and ask ourselves what our version of success is, we might also ask what we believe this success will make us feel. It's here that we'll find what we truly want.  Often, it's a feeling we can cultivate by becoming more at home with ourselves-- with or without the added bling. 

Lesson: The ability to be at home in any situation, because you're at home in your skin is a dazzling, intangible, measureless way of knowing you've "made it". 

Notes on Sufficiency: Henry Miller

"Every day we slaughter our finest impulses.  That is why we get a heart-ache when we read those lines written by the hand of a master and recognize them as our own, as the tender shoots which we stifled because we lacked the faith to believe in our own powers, our own criterion of truth and beauty.  

Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths.  

We all derive from the same source.  There is no mystery about the origin of things.  We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, to discover what is already there."  

~Henry Miller, Sexus