Dearest L,

On your thirteenth birthday, I will tell you a story I’ve not really told you before. I didn’t share it on your eighth, your ninth, your tenth, your eleventh, or your twelfth.

But given the mountain of books and writing implements you’ve asked for, it would seem that this is the birthday of reading, writing, and reveling, and you do love stories. So here we go.

You were born two weeks late. (That was the last time you were late for anything. You saw how worried it made us and learned well never to be late again. Thanks for that.)

As you lounged in my body for the extra two weeks, you got good and big. So good and big in fact, that when you were born and the doctor proclaimed “It’s a girl! And WHAT a girl!” and I saw the look on your Dad’s and the nurses faces before I laid eyes on you. I will confess, I was worried.

And then I saw you.  All remarkable 11 pounds and 5 ounces of you. My heart just about exploded.

But you were turning purple and they took you away. Being born in the way you were, by C-section, meant that you didn’t get all the liquid squeezed out of your lungs through the birth canal.

I found this über dramatic piece I wrote for my writing group and knew you would love to read it. You, the budding writer with a galaxy of wild thoughts in your gorgeous brain.

I don’t know about her first breath. Her second breath was laboured. Her third was worse. It was clear to the surgical team that there was something wrong. She was whisked away.

I passed out. His worried eyes were the last thing I saw before my eyelids closed. And the first thing I saw when they opened.

He brought me to her. She lay asleep in her isolette, worlds away, her grimace revealing her distress. I reached my hand in, navigating the probes and tubes and found a small patch of pink skin not covered by tape. Closing my eyes to the bright lights, I leaned my forehead against her plastic prison, breathed in the acrid smell of fresh tubing, and willed my breath to slow down. Willed hers to do the same. I prayed silently, while they whispered assurances that she would be okay.

After seven harrowing days and seven sleepless nights, she was.

I started a new job one year and one week after she came home. They gave me a new laptop. Worlds away, I sat at my desk, breathed in that familiar plastic smell, felt my breasts fill with milk and cried.

Holy gravitas, right? Yeah. I knew you’d love to read it. And I can’t wait to hear your critique of it. Because that right there is becoming one of my newest favourite things about you - your budding confidence in your opinion.

And so I invite you to speak up. Even more.

Not everyone will agree with you. (And that’s good.)
Not everyone will appreciate you. (This creates clarity of focus. Also good.)
You will disappoint some people. (They will live.)
You will turn some people away. (All the more popcorn for us.)

But in speaking up, you will HEAR who you are.
What you stand in. What you stand for.

Don’t worry about acting older for your friends.
Don’t worry about acting younger for us.
Don’t worry about hitting our every last expectation of you. That’s on us.

Meet your own expectations of yourself.

And I know you know this:

Being who you are is more than enough.

Because, just as you are, you are.
You are surrounded by love.
You are of love.
You are love.

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Check out my free training on the 5 ICONIC Shifts Leaders Use to Overcome the Imposter Complex and Grow their Income and their Impact

Where I pull back the curtain on five shifts to start raising voices, rates, and hands all while being the kind, congruent, and authentic leader I know you to be.

For the past two years, I have been meeting with a writing group. Three women whose writing brings me to my knees with depth and wisdom and heart and soul. They are Ronna Detrick Julie M Daley and Amy Palko.

You can imagine how rampant my Imposter Complex railed when they invited me to join them. My Impostor Complex went batshit crazy, truth be told.

But I know how to overcome it, especially when something is deeply meaningful to me.

The purpose of the group was to come together to express pieces of writing that would not (necessarily) show up on our blogs. And the rules of engagement were stunningly simple but deceptively challenging:

Show up.
Tell the truth.
Be fierce for one another.

So I did.
Every week.
And sometimes the writing that I would share was egregious. (But it was the truth, so there was that.)

And other times I would share words that came from outside of me. (I liked those weeks.)

I would be heard. I would be seen. I would be fierce for them as they would be fierce for me. It’s been a lifeline of sorts and I give thanks every week. Every day, in fact.

Somewhere along the way, we discovered that we were writing the same things. From extremely different perspectives to be certain. Three different time zones, worlds of different experiences, values, beliefs and conditioning will do that. And yet, yet...there it was.

We decided to start to braid our pieces together. One would start, the next of us would pull a strand and stitch from there, then would the next, then would the next until it came back to the one who started the piece. And it would be complete. 

We have decided to share one such piece with you today, on World Storytelling Day. We recorded it so you could hear, REALLY HEAR our voices.

It is called “Limned”. It's just over 36 minutes long. As Amy suggests:

"My recommendation is that you go and grab yourself a mug of your favourite hot drink, curl up on the couch and listen as we tell you stories of transformation and promise, relationship and sovereignty, love and truth."

And with that, we invite you today, in your own way, to:

Show up.
Tell the truth.
Be fierce.

All love,
/TG

PS - Warning: NSFW (or for your kids!) We swear. Quite a fair bit. Click here.

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 Check out my free training on the 5 Shifts Our Clients Use to Overcome the Imposter Complex and Grow their Income and their Impact

Where I pull back the curtain on five shifts to start raising voices, rates, and hands all while being the kind, congruent, and authentic leader I know you to be.

What do procrastination, perfectionism, comparison, leaky boundaries, diminishment, and people-pleasing all have in common?

(Nope. This isn’t a joke. We’ve already established that I’m no masterful joke crafter.)

Well, of course they are each a massive pain in the ass and an impediment to getting your work out in the way you want, ammirite?

But digging in a little deeper, they are also common habits for people struggling with the Imposter Complex (which is probably what you mean when you’re using the term Imposter Syndrome).

And while we don’t typically experience them all at once (oh LORD…can you imagine a worse fate?) we often experience one or two more acutely that the others. For me, my particular poison is people-pleasing. It’s still acute for me.

But what fascinates me the most about these behaviours is the way in which they are all double binds.

Here’s why I can’t stop, won’t stop talking about the Imposter Complex. The richness staggers.

Each of the six behaviours actually feeds our confirmation bias. That tendency to find proof that our beliefs are right. And the belief with the Imposter Complex: You don’t belong. You are a fraud. It’s just a matter of time before they find out.

And so on.

For instance, last month, we untied the double binds of procrastination.

We saw how when we suffer from the Imposter Complex, and are about to start something we might feel wobbly about because we’ve never done it before, we might procrastinate in the beginning. We avoid getting to it for fear of imminent failure (or the magnitude of the job, or the difficulty level, or even success). And in the procrastination and putting the work off, we start to feel helpless, foolish, amateurish, and beat ourselves up for succumbing (once again) to this habit or pattern of ours. When we finally dig ourselves out from under the mess, we may end up producing work that is sub-par.

And then we use that sub-par effort as PROOF that we are frauds and not worthy of the opportunity we were given. (Someone far more capable than us wouldn’t have procrastinated in the first place, we think.)

See? It can trip you up coming AND going. Like I said, fascinating. And entirely overcome-able.

That’s the fabulous news.

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 Check out my free training on the 5 Shifts Our Clients Use to Overcome the Imposter Complex and Grow their Income and their Impact

Where I pull back the curtain on five shifts to start raising voices, rates, and hands all while being the kind, congruent, and authentic leader I know you to be.

Know why you’re feeling so wobbly? Know why you feel like you’re freaking out?

It’s okay, love. And it’s actually quite simple.

You’ve never been here before.

In your lifetime, you have never seen the likes of what you’re seeing in your newsfeed. In fact, even HAVING a newsfeed is new — relatively speaking. So you’re seeing every preposterous tweet. Every unimaginable utterance. Every inflammatory order. Every doomsday prediction.

You’ve never faced this before. Few have.

And when you’re on the precipice of something new, you tend to freak out.

It’s what you (WE) do. Well, those of us who come up against the Imposter Complex, that is.

Those of us who feel a cellular need to GET IT RIGHT. With impenetrable values of mastery, excellence, and integrity. (That’s key.)

Now, normally, I talk about this in the context of the NEW you desire.

The new level. The new opportunity. The new role.

This NEW, of course, is not THE new you had hoped for.

But it’s the new that’s here.

And it’s calling you, US, forth.

And you don’t know how to DO IT RIGHT. Yet.

Just like you didn’t know how to take the stage until you just took it.
Just like you didn’t know how to be a parent until you held your child in your arms.
Just like you didn’t know how to manage someone else before you were made a manager.

You were new to that then. You are new to this now. So cut yourself a massive piece of slack.

OF COURSE you want to do it right. You want to honor those values of mastery, excellence, and integrity.

For yourself, to be certain. And for everyone around you.

No pressure, eh?

And your Imposter Complex, with its incredibly high standards and competence extremities (i.e.: “Lie #3 of the Imposter Complex: You are all or nothing”), are berating you for what you are doing, aren’t doing and all in-between. So, you’re still on the outside. Freaking out on the inside.

I get it.

Oh, and also:

THE STAKES FEEL HIGH.

It feels like it’s all on the line.

Because there’s a way in which it is.

Yes. We all need to rally.

But how should we rally?

From our own known sources of strength.

Decide what role you need to play. And step in.

What are YOUR strengths? (Try hard not to compare yours to others - stay in your lane of competence and mastery. I repeat: What are YOUR strengths?)

Speaking? Speak what you know so that you may inspire the same in others.
Writing? Write what you know so that you may inspire the same in others.
Coaching? Coach your heart out and get your people into the action they are here to activate upon.
Parenting? Parent like your life depends on it. Feed their minds and hearts and be there to soothe their furrowed brows.
Cooking? We will need soup and comfort.
Healer? Heal. Use all of your tools and heal others.
Hosting? Gather the people.

Share what you have. Share what you do. Bring the joy you have to those who are out of joy. Bring light to those sitting in the dark.

We need marchers and activists. And, yes. we need artists and bakers, too.

Do your job and do it better than ever.

Feeling called to step into a role that you really don’t know?

Learn from those who have been here before. Who have been fighting injustice their whole lives. They are your teachers. Honor their teachings. Honor their hard-earned wisdom and be their willing apprentice. If you show up with tenacity and willingness and a beginner’s mind, they will hand you the tools. Thank them. And then use them wisely.

Still don’t know what to do next?

I shared this on Facebook, and it bears repeating: when you don't quite know what to believe and don't quite know what to do, here are three simple steps towards liberation from the spinning.

1. Take a deep breath, with an extra sip of oxygen at the top of your inhalation. Exhale.

2. Ask your heart what it needs, and listen for the answer.

3. Ask your gut what it wants you to do next.

Proceed accordingly.

No matter where you are at, keep your eye on the bigger picture.
Then act in the increments most appropriate to your capacity.

Yes. You may mess up and say and do the wrong things. (That’s always possible.)
No, you may not be fully ready. (No one was ever fully ready. For anything.)
Of course, there is room for you to improve. (That’s the only good news that comes with the Imposter Complex.)

We’re going to need all of you. But it’s not ALL on you.

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 Check out my free training on the 5 Shifts Our Clients Use to Overcome the Imposter Complex and Grow their Income and their Impact

Where I pull back the curtain on five shifts to start raising voices, rates, and hands all while being the kind, congruent, and authentic leader I know you to be.

She had something to say. She often does. She’s not shy. But there was something unique about this time. She needed something more... urgently.

So she jumped up onto the counter, right where the two slabs of granite lengths meet in the corner.

It was a gesture that felt so teen-like in its confidence that it made me catch my breath. And the way she brushed her hair out of her eyes also gave me a glimpse into the young woman she’s becoming. Right before my eyes.

That general area by the second sink and the cutting board being the one I typically occupy as I chop vegetables and pontificate and expound and lecture at her blessed, dear heart, there was nowhere for me to go but to sit at the island, facing her. Where she normally sits enduring my lectures (mostly) patiently.

He sat down next to me. We both turned our phones off at the same moment with the same gesture. And then, we lifted our chins to watch her face, for she was at last taller than us.

Once she was assured that we were there, REALLY there, she started to tell her story... not a story I'm at liberty to share. But a story that is deeply meaningful to her and deserving of our full and undivided attention. Which she received when she jumped up onto the counter.

It was a symbol of resoluteness. A symbol of worthiness.

Hear me. See me. Listen to me.

And we did.

And her story was good.

I mean REALLY good. Like, this girl SEES things. KNOWS things.

As stories are when we offer our undivided attention. When there are no iPhones and agendas. When someone we love and admire and respect says: “Hear me. See me. Listen to me.”

Often times “being seen” or “being heard” is actually code for “being right”. Let’s be clear: that's very different. (Also different? Getting noticed...NOT the same as being seen.)

In any case, in THIS case, our girl didn’t need to be right. She just needed to be heard.

And the extra few feet of counter height gave her the exact amount of leverage she needed. That act of hopping up was even better than her excellent and worthy story.

You caught the metaphor, right?

Go ahead.

When you have something to say that needs to be heard, change your delivery.

Hop up onto the counter.

Your people will hear you. See you. Listen to you.

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 Check out my free training on the 5 Shifts Our Clients Use to Overcome the Imposter Complex and Grow their Income and their Impact

Where I pull back the curtain on five shifts to start raising voices, rates, and hands all while being the kind, congruent, and authentic leader I know you to be.