Viewing entries tagged
Impostor Complex

Checking in on those Grief Strategies (Video)

In last week’s Friday Finale, I shared that this is a tricky number of days on the calendar.

And I’ve heard from scores of you that this has been true for you as well.

You’ve also shared the beautiful ways you have dealt with your griefs and I have been truly grateful. In fact, some of your ideas have found their way into MY ways of navigating the grief.

I’ve been stress-testing the strategies I mentioned in last week’s Friday Finale:

  • Forging new traditions.

  • Plans to review investment and philanthropic strategies.

  • Assembling the Cast.

  • Asking for what I need.

  • Focusing on more of more and less on less.

As I type this, it’s December 27. The day my Mom passed in 2004. And the day my father signed over Power of Attorney to me in 2017.

Tricky, to be sure.

Also physically tricky as I’ve sprained my middle finger (metaphor for much of 2018, perhaps.)

So I’ve opted to shoot you a video for my accountability check-in (run time: approximately 15 minutes).

As you release that which needs to be released from 2018 and welcome in the new of 2019, I wish you more of what you wish more of and less of what you wish less of. And invite you to pay attention to what is receiving the gift of said precious and finite attention.

I've got some big plans for 2019 that I can’t wait to share with you, so I’ll see you on the other side of 2018, mmkay?

I find it helpful…

I find it helpful to know somebody I think the world of somewhere is trying to get rid of an earworm.

I also find it helpful...

...to remember that most everyone is in denial about their current age.

...to listen to stories of barriers people that don’t look like me face so I can dial down my judgment and ramp up my resolve.

...to know that everyone gets interrupted by someone. And it is annoying, but it doesn’t mean as much as we make it out to mean.

...to remember that everyone needs comfort.

...to remember that the patriarchy wins when we spend time tearing ourselves and each other down...instead of the patriarchy. (Distinction ahoy: I’m not talking about calling in. I’m talking about tearing down.)

...to be reminded that there are no actual experts in anything but our own lives.

...to see that sometimes even when it feels right, it is still technically wrong. (Fifth clap in the Friends theme song, anyone?)

...to know that no matter how long I live, I will still find out stuff that I can’t believe I didn’t know. It’s true: You know more than you think and you will never know it all. Me too.

...to appreciate that there will be moments of grace found in the way the sun bathes an object with golden light so startling that you will be brought to your knees. No matter what thought preceded the moment.

...to remember that we are all cool kids in someone else’s eyes.

...to see that I have done incredible things. And I will continue to do so. As long as I keep showing up. And learning. And recalibrating. And staying open. And receiving the help. Because I sure as shit didn’t do any of it entirely alone.

...to keep coming back to the fact that our teachers and ancestors must to be acknowledged. Give thanks.

...to remember that I will not remember the worry in my heart that I was holding when I was on the couch and her feet were tucking into my knees...but I will remember the feeling of her feet in my knees.

...to remember there is a big difference between getting noticed and being seen.

...to know, really know, that self love is when we love ourselves...but self care is when we prove it.

...to see that We all assume the worst the best we can.

...to remember that I am not my thoughts. I am not my thoughts. I am not my thoughts. AND YET. Sometimes those thoughts are rooted in very real fears. So...both. And.

...to always keep in mind that no matter who they are, from Maya Angelou to John Lennon. From Lupita Nyong'o to Albert Einstein...if you’re up to amazing things, you WILL experience the Impostor Complex. And the only way through is some magical combination that only you can conjure of rooting into your capacity, meeting the critics, gathering your people and hours lived.

If you just don’t feel like yourself...

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Every day this week - one full week before the official school year begins - we’ve watched our daughter head off to her new high school (!!!), backpack and high ponytail bouncing off behind her.

Her new school has offered what they call “transition week." We haven’t really known what that was, so have been calling it “boozeless frosh week." But we’ve discovered it’s largely a settling in of taking subways, finding lockers, getting student ID pics, and getting the kids acclimatized for what they keep threatening will be the fast pace of grade 9. And if I’m guessing, I’d say also designed to settle the butterflies of overprotective parents (ahem).

She’s been asking me a ton about high school. We’ve been sharing our highs and lows. Mostly the highs for me. I came ALIVE in high school.

At some point in an epic basement cleanout over the summer, I came across alllllll of my yearbooks. Every last one that I thought I had lost over several moves. Starting from grade 8 all the way through to grade 13 (and if you didn’t know how old I was before and you live in Ontario, NOW you have a sense.)

Stay with me for this next boring point about Ontario’s public school system. Some middle schools went from grade 7-9 and the corresponding high school started in grade 10. That was the track I was on. Other high schools started in grade 9... like my kid’s school.

My middle school years were unpleasant. And so I left the stream after grade 9 and made a fresh start at a new and different high school where I knew no one but two cool guys I coached tennis with. (Which was my version of cool back in the day. Yep.)

But when asked why I left years later, I couldn’t ever really put my finger on it. It wasn’t like I was BULLIED in middle school. I wasn’t in TROUBLE. History is a funny thing and time can either harden or soften the edges. All I recall in my retelling of why I chose to leave the track I was on was that “I just didn’t feel myself.”

My daughter has been curious about that language: “I just didn’t feel like myself.”

And then we opened up my grade 9 yearbook. And she SAW. And I SAW. 
 

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That was the picture my peers chose of me. That was the pose they put me in. They said I looked like Micky Dolenz from the Monkees (never mind the misspelling on my t-shirt). And something about having smelly feet. Okay. Ouch, but okay.

And I, of course, was not the only one poked fun of. The kid who struggled with her weight was put in a sumo suit. The boy who, well... I won’t say more. Let’s just say each of our insecurities were amplified and caricaturized. And far worse. Homophobic, ableist, and racist visual “jokes” on every page. “Hey, lighten up”,right? “It’s just kid’s stuff back in the mid-80’s!”

My daughter was horrified to see the drawings. Wondered who the staff advisor was who allowed for such cruelty.

And thennnnnnnnn we got to the yearbook comments and signatures. Yikes. All but a few were mean-spirited, snarky, thinly-veiled insults. I kept seeing her watch me out of the corner of her eye, wondering how I turned out so well. Feeling her 14-year-old self wanting to reach my 14-year-old self.

We couldn’t get through them all together, my daughter and I. She even proposed we burn the book.

I said: “I told you I didn’t feel like myself there."

Because you know what I see in those eyes of mine? Not a kid who didn’t like herself. Naw. She liked herself juuuuuust fine. But a kid who wasn’t liked. Who wasn’t celebrated. And she couldn’t quite figure out why.

So she decided to leave and go where she might find her people.

And she did.

She started fresh at an entirely new high school. It meant leaving the classmates that she had been with for ten years and going to an entirely different area of the city. It meant disobeying her parents in her first real act of rebellion by sneaking out of the house to enrol herself in said out-of-district school. It meant big fights and lots of tears. It meant uncertainty and lonely lunches for the first month. But she needed to do it.

And she found her people. Many of whom are in her inner circle to this day. Her greatest champions, advocates, and challengers. Her chosen extended family.

It’s not easy to make another choice.

They are often not celebrated.
They are often uncertain and unsure.
But if you have choices available and staying the course is threatening to cause harm to your spirit, you must make it. You must take it.

Especially if on this current track, you don’t feel like yourself.

What is the BEST choice you ever made?


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Speaking of changing what must be changed, we are juuuuuuuuuust about ready to share with you the NEW DIRECTION of my podcast “In the Spotlight Live w/ Tanya Geisler." I am madly in love with all the conversations we had last year (you can find those conversations here), and am ready to go even DEEPER into my exploration of the Impostor Complex... uncollapsing when the barriers to leadership are INTERNAL... and when they are EXTERNAL. It’s TIME for these conversations. They may not be easy. They may be uncertain. They may be messy. And they are ESSENTIAL.

In the Spotlight Podcast with Tanya Geisler
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The business world (especially online) is constantly evolving and this can lead to excitement, opportunity, and at times, overwhelm. We’re told to work longer hours, hustle harder, follow blueprints, "crush it," and "reach six figures" at all costs.

But what if that’s leaving us exhausted, burnt out, disillusioned, and lonely?

Jo Casey is a coach for meaningful business owners and specialises in helping women overcome their feminine conditioning (the messages society gives about how to be a "good" woman) and build businesses that allow us all to thrive.

She’s put together a online, 5-day event focused on conversations about how we can create businesses and lives that are TRULY sustainable. Businesses that are sustainable ethically, emotionally, energetically, and financially.

She’s brought together some of the wisest, funniest, warmest, and most insightful women she knows to share their experiences and expertise in building their own meaningful businesses. And I’m one of them.

Join us here.

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Savouring this exquisitely bittersweet moment of the year. The space between summer and fall here in the northern hemisphere. I’m savouring these last sips of summer. The last of the peaches and the tomatoes and the hot days and thinking of apples and sweaters and fires.

One of our end-of-summer traditions, 40-some years in the making, is to go to the end of summer fair called the CNE. I’ve been taking my daughter and her bestie every year. This may be the last year they’ll let me tag along and buy them crap, but this was the first year my kid got on THAT crazy-assed ride.


Given that, what now?

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We’ve picked up our daughter from her two-week stint at summer camp (there may have been a tear or two) and we have been reconnecting up at our in-law’s gorgeous cottage for the week.

We are enjoying books, hammock time, s’mores, Monopoly, tennis, and the rain day which saw us baking cookies and devouring lasagna.

As I type this, I hear the two of them on the lake. He’s in the canoe and she’s chasing him on the SUP. She is laughing hysterically as she splashes him with her paddle. She is fully clothed and I suspect will end up in the water soon. (Updated to add: I was correct.)

The days are still hot with a little bite of fall when the wind blows from the east.

The air is clean and the water is cleaner. This is no small thing.

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We give thanks a thousand times a day and it is still insufficient.

All of this grace led to a very complicated and necessary conversation over Monopoly around power, colonialism, white privilege, “the tax,” and generational wealth. (Everything is an opportunity for discussion if you decide to make it so.)

As ever, there were more questions raised than answers given, which has had to be fine. For the moment. Because this moment, you know? It’s truth. It’s what we have. It’s what we know. But THIS time I followed it up with the question my friend Jenn McCabe raises: “Given that, what now?”

This is a question that can cut to the quick... and the true. It won’t quit me.

The game of Monopoly will never be the same for any of us.

Giving thanks for that. And for the good questions. And for the clean water.


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Clearly, I’m savouring much these days. Including:
These intersectional feminist podcasts.
Staci Jordan Shelton’s new digital digs and her new offering ALCHEMY is SUBLIME.
The lake.
This piece from Bari Tessler on firing her CFO.

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Loved my interview with Colleen Gratzer over on Creative Boost. Alllll about the Impostor Complex. She wasn’t afraid to ask the stumpers.

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Have a podcast and want me to speak to your listeners about the Impostor Complex or Unshakeable Confidence? Email me and let's talk.


Do the work.

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It’s DO THE WORK month in the Starring Role Academy.

There will be products launched.
Self-care regimens implemented.
Sites revealed.

Podcasts RElaunched (*raises hand*).

And a whole host of other things I will hold in sacred confidence.

But the point is... work will be done.

Hey. I know. Oh, how I know. Steve Pressfield said it best and it’s a drum we ALLL bang on.

Why? Because nothing happens without actually doing the work.

Like... nothing.

In the Academy, we’ve set ourselves up pretty well by claiming the goals, meeting our internal critics (and the Impostor Complex... daily), bolstering our sense of capacity, and gathering our cast.


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So now there’s nothing to it but to do it.

This is where the rubber meets the road.
The undeniable precipice of the DOING.

We’ve been here plenty of times, haven’t we?
Hired the personal trainer.
Signed up for the course.
Bought the book.

But if we don’t show up to the work, or lift the weights, or engage with the community, or crack the spine, we don’t get where we say we want to go. 
And boy oh boy...that’s precisely what our Impostor Complex was counting on.

Action, Loves. It’s only action that counts.

Because the work doesn’t work unless you do it.

And like I shared on Instagram: there is still plenty of time.
AND? Not all the time in the world. Get going.

PS - Speaking of “doing the work”, I have signed up for Rachel Cargle’s #dothework challenge. I’m not excited to face my own privilege and white supremacy. Which means it’s time to do so. Stay tuned.


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Grateful for this big ol’ shout out from the one and only Michelle Mazur. Listen in as she talks about the three key things she’s done to completely transform her mindset (and her results) in 2017.

And Casey Erin Wood shares how she is getting the second draft of her book done this month in the Academy, which is to say with planning, tracking, and accountability. DOING THE WORK. GORGEOUS.

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Did I tell you about the best pad thai I’ve ever had? Had some friends over Saturday night and we were shown how to do it. WAYYYY easier than I had thought. (But it’s pretty involved shopping to be certain.) Trick I’ve learned is to SOAK the noodles...not boil them. Game-changer.

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Have a podcast and want me to speak to your listeners about the Impostor Complex or Unshakeable Confidence? Hit reply and let's talk.