For the past few weeks, I’ve been dancing around with an idea presented by my friend Donna Karlin, the Shadow Coach and founder of A Better Perspective. The idea sits in front of my nose in 36-point type.
“People become who they might be when they let go of who they are.”
In my own struggle to let go, my heart leaps and pirouettes with vivid energy, excited by the possibility of discovering and becoming who I might be. My head takes steps rehearsed and perfected through decades of practice
designed to keep me as I am. I promise you, this dance is not a sexy tango; it’s more like a barroom brawl.
Brain scientists suggest the desire to change, however sincere or necessary, collides with the human brain’s natural aversion to change. That ancient “fight or flight” mechanism takes over when events, feelings or thoughts don’t match the old patterns. That primitive part of our brain interprets this as “danger” and renders us temporarily incapable of rational thought. It fills our head with worry, anxiety and other nonsense and our bodies with cortisol, adrenaline and who knows what other forms of crap and corruption. So we don’t change.
Two years ago, I thought I had changed forever and for good, for once and for all. I was invited to contribute a chapter to a book about women and power. In writing it, I determined that I had found my real self and was, henceforth, going to be that. My chapter, posted here, Objects In Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear, describes the emergence of Susanna, my bolder, greater, less inhibited alter ego. She is the creature I was meant to be. It’s a good story. It aims to help others discover their own inner Susanna, and I occasionally hear from people who’ve been touched by it or inspired to find their own true selves.
My buddy Nancy Marmolejo, founder of Comadre Coaching and Viva Visibility!, calls that confident, fun-loving character who lurks inside us our “Inner Loca.” Our loca (which, you guessed it, translates as “crazy woman”) inspires a bold new stance from which we take actions that will help us grow. Call it “Loca,” “Susanna” or anything you like, letting this creature take a bigger role in our lives does us and the world a favour.
In trying to give Susanna some more loca space, I missed an important part of the process. What do we do with our wimpier, lesser, more inhibited old selves when we decide to become who we might be? Our old selves (or mine, at least) are like termites in the basement, gnawing away quietly until the whole place collapses. My old self returned and, before each bite of my foundation, spat out
phrases like:
“People will think you’re weird.”
“And what makes you an expert?”
And the perennial favourite, “You’re too old.”
Unfortunately, there is no bug spray for this pest. What’s needed is
more like the Witness Protection Program, except that you get to keep
your phone number and most of your family and friends.
The key technique is noticing who you are being by noticing how you are acting. You notice how old habits are keeping you stuck. You notice when you put yourself down. You notice when you tolerate interruptions, make excuses, postpone activities you want to do or check your e-mail before you’re out of your PJs.
Awareness is the first step to change, but it’s not enough. The decision to be the new self is made minute-to-minute. I love Eleanor Roosevelt’s quote: “I think that, somehow, we learn who we really are and then live with the decision.” Who we are is a decision, a choice we make. We control it.
We can create and select the new identity and lose the one that, while comfortable, is no longer safe. Moreover, that the new identity, which you choose as a grown-up, is likely to be who you really are. Much of the old you was your response to what others said and did around, with and to you.
Along with noticing and fending off visits by who you were, the second step is to welcome, nourish and nurture your new self. I blew it on both fronts, for months. I hid Susanna from my old colleagues. Few even know I contributed to a book about finding your power. “Too woo-woo,” said my old self. Today, Susanna took over. She put my chapter, her story, on the web and wrote this post. She’s real. She’s back. She’s me. I have chosen her.
Who have you chosen to be?
Cheers – Susanna