You ARE Something (Other People Believe It, So It’s About Time You Did)

diving-board

I’ve recently changed job locations within the company where I’ve been employed for the last nearly 13 years. It’s a bit of a homecoming since I returned to the hospital where I first began my career with the company. After a six year stint at our corporate office in an adjacent city, it was time for me to come home. A few weeks in I got a life lesson in how our perceptions of ourselves, who we are, and what we deserved can at times be flawed at worst, underestimated at best.

Last Monday the director of the department (I don’t report to her but we work together, and she manages the department where I’m now located) offered me a bigger office that had just recently been vacated. My initial reaction was to say no—(1) I was pretty sick from an upper respiratory infection and was out of it when she asked (2) I was being too impulsively sentimental and attached to my first “real” little office, and most importantly (3) I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings by looking like the new kid who breezed in and took one of the biggest offices. We’d all gone through a difficult work situation that left many people feeling sensitive and vulnerable. I didn’t want to contribute to that…which is ironically a bit arrogant of me to make the assumption that I was responsible for everyone’s feelings and moods. I worry too much about what other people think under the guise of wanting to take care of everyone. All that’s done is cause unnecessary stress and heartache.

The next morning I changed my mind, took her up on her offer, and by the afternoon I was all moved in. I love my new space. It’s huge. I can even practice a form in there (slightly modified but still) if I wanted to. It turns out my assumptions about my adopted work team were unfounded. They’d wanted me to have that big office from the beginning and were very happy that it was finally mine. Several of them even stopped by and said so. Due to the nature of my job I have a lot of meetings, and many of them are very private coaching meetings. I needed a larger space so my guests and I could be comfortable.

The afternoon that I moved in to my big office I hosted a meeting with one of my coworkers and a mutual friend, a hospital leader whom we’d both worked with on different occasions. My coworker mentioned a recent disappointment she’d had on the job. She was feeling pretty down when one day she was contacted out of the blue by a recruiter. She ultimately didn’t take the offer, having decided to stay where she was, but she was flattered by the attention.

“It just felt good to know that I AM something to someone,” she said. The other woman and I nodded and smiled in understanding. I thought about how important it is to feel that, and it often takes an outside perspective to remind us of what we were too blind, self-conscious, distracted, or even self-centered to see in ourselves.

“I think you underestimated the support you were going to get when you came here,” the department administrative assistant told me the next day when was helping me set up my phone. Maybe, but I think it was more of a case of underestimating myself. I didn’t think I deserved the big office. I didn’t think that the work I did was important enough or that what I did mattered to other people. It took other people pushing me into a new space (literally) for me to see that hey, I do make a difference after all. I AM something.

So take that opportunity. Take what is being offered to you on a platter. Take the big office. Enroll in a college course. Apply for that job. Sign up for your first taekwondo class. Tell that person you love them. What is scarier? Acting on what you want or continuing to live in doubt, controlled by fear and anxiety? Say yes. Take it. You are worth it. You deserve it.

You ARE something.

My How You’ve Grown

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Silence surrounded me other than the ticking clocks I love to have in my home. Afternoon sun poured into my living room as I settled into my recliner. On my lap was a plain brown envelope–my medical records. One of my physicians, a specialist I’d been seeing for years for a chronic condition, had passed away suddenly. I wanted to get a copy of my records so I could easily transition to another doctor, but I mostly wanted to see them just because. 

I was a little nervous about reading my doctor’s notes this afternoon. I was very sick when I first started seeing him. By the time I found him I was desperate. My health had rapidly deteriorated, and I was nearly out of options. I slowly opened the envelope and pulled out the stapled packet of notes. I was curious about his initial thoughts the first time he met me. He saw what my illness had done to me. He’d seen me through remissions and relapses. Sometimes he seemed concerned or disappointed with my ongoing struggles. Sometimes he was cheerful and proud of my progress. What had he really thought of me?

The last time I saw him, though, we agreed that I’d made vast improvement over the last five years. And I have. I am not the same person I was when I first saw him at age 32…or am I? Had I really changed? Were my records going to reveal the piece of me that I’d worked so hard to fight off? Was it still there? Had I made as much progress as I’d thought? Had I really gotten my health back, and would I never be able to let my guard down?

His notes not only told the story of my treatment and healing but of all the good things I did with my life during a very difficult period. His first entry of notes mentioned that I was in the process of buying a house. Later entries mentioned closing on the house, changing jobs, and completing my MBA. The next to last entry mentioned how excited I was about receiving my black belt. That one made me smile and tear up a little. I wasn’t so bad after all. I really had done something good with my life despite the ways my condition threatened to hinder me.

I have him to thank for helping me get my health back, and even more so, I have taekwondo to thank. He was a huge help, but taekwondo was the clincher. It helped me get my life and my health back on track. It is the absolute best thing I’ve ever done for myself. Getting me well was a team effort.

When I cross paths with my departed doctor in the next life I hope I’ll have a chance to shake his hand and tell him that I turned out okay.

Have Growing Partners, Not Growing Pains

heart hands.jpg

This is still too much commitment for me, but I like the idea.

I had this boyfriend who claimed at the very beginning and at the very end of our relationship that one doesn’t grow in isolation. I think he said them both as a means to convince me to (1) get together with him in the beginning and (2) not to walk away at the end…even though he technically broke up with me, but that’s a different story.

I recognized his point but disagree on the absoluteness of it. I’ve done most of my growth, and I’m talking the really hard, gut-wrenching, gritty, life-changing, come-to-Jesus stuff “in isolation,” other than with the guidance and confidentiality of one trusted mentor. It was my only option, or at least that was my thinking at the time. First of all, my destructive behaviors drove people away, so that took care of any crowdsourcing for help, and second of all, I wouldn’t allow anyone to see me at my worst. I had to face some really hard truths about myself, and I had to fight that battle alone.

But…when given the opportunity, having other people guide us, give us feedback, and share their journeys with us can be one of the best ways to grow. At the end of last Saturday’s sparring class my Chief Instructor reminded us that we couldn’t just go in to class with the singular mindset of fighting for ourselves. We had to be good partners, whether that was being mindful of safety, respecting the other person’s age or body capabilities, or knowing how to challenge them in just the right ways. He’s since reminded us in other classes that being a good partner is just as important as practicing our own skills.

I subscribe to that philosophy as well. At the beginning of that particular sparring class I had reminded a teenage green belt, who seemed dismayed at the prospect of having to spar little kids, that part of his job as an older student and one who was moving into higher ranks was not just working on his own practice. He needed to be able to look out for and mentor the younger, smaller students, which is a good challenge in itself. For me being a black belt has partially been figuring out what I don’t know (or one might see it as moving from unconscious incompetence to conscious incompetence), and just as importantly, if not more so, living up to the responsibility of sharing what I do know with other students.

I started taekwondo training as a means to heal in a number of ways and give my life some purpose. It was self-centered motivation, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Since then, though, I’ve learned (albeit a little slowly) the importance of community and the part I need to play not only for my own fulfillment but for others, in some cases, more for them than for me. My life is much richer and happier because of my taekwondo family. I’d like to think I’ve done some good for them as well. The desire to serve and to, as my Chief Instructor would say, “be a good partner,” is inherent. I wouldn’t be where I am without them.

Having a good partner, whether it’s in the dojang, the workplace, or the home, offers us a fresh perspective. They help us see our blind spots and the potential for greatness we haven’t yet recognized. Good partners push us just beyond what we think we can do and encourage us when we want to give up. They help us through the painful times and celebrate the good times. Being a good partner lets us share our wisdom and sometimes hard-learned lessons with others. It allows us to serve others and get outside our own self interests and agendas. It allows us to see our passions through another person’s eyes.

We can grow more quickly and more fully with the help of a good partner.

I don’t always practice what I preach or what my taekwondo instructors preach in my daily life, though. In fact, I veer towards the other end of the spectrum. I hate sharing my struggles (so that last post about my sort-of eating disorder was REALLY hard to write). I hate opening up my life to other people. I hate sharing my precious down time with anybody, even people I like. I think I want human interaction and connection, I’ve finally admitted that I need it to have a more fulfilling life, but damnit, I HATE asking for it.

I even hate sharing the good parts other than the insights I write about on this blog. It’s not a matter of wanting the glory for myself. I simply don’t know how to ask. It doesn’t occur to me. I was a loner as a child and learned to rely on myself for everything. That thought pattern has followed me well into adulthood, sometimes to my advantage because I’m very independent and autonomous but other times to my detriment. It’s easy to get tunnel vision without any feedback or an objective perspective.

I still have a hard time accepting the fact that I do need other people. They enrich my life in ways that I’m not able to do in isolation, try as I might. I’ve gotten better at it at work. During my yearly performance evaluation my boss remarked that I had a knack for building and maintaining relationships. It wasn’t always natural, but as I grew into my “caregiver” roles (first as a librarian and then as a leadership development consultant) I embraced human interaction and connection as my means of doing my work. I’m good at it, and I think I’ve helped a lot of people grow. I’ve been a good training partner.

I don’t do that in my personal life. I don’t seek out relationships. I’m not loyal. I’m not consistent. I don’t stick around. The urge to do my own thing, and more importantly stay off the social grid and viciously guard my free time, almost always wins out over the desire to spend time with other people. I have long-lasting acquaintances but very few long-lasting friendships. Frankly, I’m not a very good friend or partner, and there is a big part of me that couldn’t care less.

What would my personal life be like if I looked to family, friends, and coworkers as my “life training partners” just as I do with my taekwondo instructors and fellow students? What could I learn from them? What could they learn from me? Would it bring me as much fulfillment as taekwondo training does? What would I bring to others’ lives and experiences? Would it help me be less self-centered and keep me from sinking into tunnel vision thinking or depression? Would I really have to keep shouldering my burdens or even my triumphs alone?

Am I ready to share my journey instead of stubbornly growing in isolation? I’m not sure about that one. For now taekwondo is a good start.

How Martial Arts Can Help You Succeed in the Working World

meditating-at-desk

It’s either this or punch a hole through the monitor.

I’ve been in the corporate world for roughly 15 years, and much of that time has been spent in healthcare. Taekwondo has been a major influence in how I carry myself, how I handle stress, how I communicate, and how I prioritize.

You don’t need to be in martial arts to reap its benefits and kick ass at work because I’ve done the work for you! I’ve compiled a list of articles that can help you successfully handle the ups, downs, challenges, and changes of the working world. Enjoy!

Communication and Teamwork
Learning to Be Human
How Punching People Made Me More Empathetic
Teaching Means You’re Learning for Two
How I Would Teach a Taekwondo Class: a Parody

Change
The Poomsae Series: Koryo, or, Managing Change Like a Black Belt
Closed Door, Open Window: How Adversity Can Hone Adaptability
Can We Pause for a Change?
What’s Your Span of Control? The Answer May Surprise You!

Conflict and Stress
Sparring Multiple Partners
Guest Post: How Martial Arts Can Help Reduce Work-Related Stress
When Life Takes a Swing at You
Don’t Be So Defensive—Unless Somebody is Trying to Punch You in the Face

Leadership
To Lead or Not to Lead
What I’ve Learned from Coaching Children and Business Leaders
True North
The Jyo Kyo Neem’s On You: First Days as a Black Belt

Prioritization
It’s All Cookies and Crackers
In Defense of Complacency
Defending Your Work-Life Balance
Why I Chose to Pursue a Black Belt Instead of a PhD

Guest Post: How to Deal With Life’s Uncertainties Like a Black Belt

Check out my latest guest post on the martial arts travel site BookMartialArts.com:
How to Deal With Life’s Uncertainties Like a Black Belt 

This an expansion on a post I wrote several weeks ago. Life can be frustrating, scary, and stressful, but maintaining a black belt attitude (whether you’re a white belt, black belt, or not even into martial arts at all) can help you get through tough times with confidence and grace.

martial-arts-black-belt

 

Looking for a great way to lower your stress levels? Why not sign up for an affordable martial arts training camp? From Taekwondo to Krav Maga, BookMartialArts.com has camps on various types of martial arts disciplines to choose from!

Dealing With Uncertainty Like a Black Belt

uncertainty-2

A few weeks ago in taekwondo class we were practicing a kicking drill: one person held a square pad in each hand and walked backwards while another person moved forward, kicking the pad with each step. The twist was the holder changed the target’s position every time, so the person kicking had to quickly respond with the appropriate kick: snap kick, roundhouse kick, side kick or turning back side kick, and spin kick. The purpose of the drill was to practice reacting quickly to an uncertain situation. If the target is open we should take advantage of the situation and respond with the most appropriate kick, which may not have been the one we were expecting to use.

Some students picked up on the drill quickly and others had to take a little more time for their bodies to catch up with what they were seeing. I found myself thinking too much rather than resting in that sweet spot of my brain and body acting in sync. In a sparring match and even more so in a real-life altercation we can’t necessarily tell what kind of blow is coming next. There are some tell-tale signs to the trained eye, but even then things can change at the last minute. We learn how to strike and defend, and we also learn how to fake and change direction quickly. We shouldn’t be surprised when our opponents do the same.

In life we don’t always know what’s going to happen next, where the next blow is going to come from, or where the next opportunity may pop up (i.e., that open target). In taekwondo we’re taught to always be ready and to rely on our arsenal of tools and our (eventually) well-honed instincts. It doesn’t mean we won’t get hurt. If you get in a fight you’re probably going to get hit. If someone attacks you with a knife and you fight back, you’re probably going to get cut. Hopefully, though, if you think fast and respond quickly and intelligently, the blows or cuts won’t be fatal (and the proverbial knife won’t end up in your back).

Some friends and I are dealing with an uncertain situation. The first blows have been dealt although we’re not certain how or when the next attacks are going to occur. There have been some fakes, and there have been some low blows. Like seasoned black belts, people have responded with grace, confidence, and dignity. They have found ways to take their power back. They have learned to dodge the most fatal blows and strike back when necessary. It’s easy to get bogged down with thinking of the worst possible scenario, but just as when we are in a fight, we can’t become so consumed by worry, fear, or even anger, that we are blind to the opportunities in front of us.

When I was kicking during the class drill my holder was a male bo dan close to my age. When he held up the target he would mutter the kick along with it. Even though he was verbalizing the right kick, it took a few seconds for my body to catch up with what my eyes were telling me.

“Spin kick,” he said quietly. Ugh, I hate spin kick. Okay…whap!
“Spin kick.”
“Oh come on!” I protested jokingly. “I just did that!”
“Spin kick,” he repeated with a smile. Grrrr…okay, whap!
“Spin kick.”
“But it’s my left leg! I suck on this side! Can’t you switch to the right si-”
“Spin kick.” Dang it….whap!

While the spin kicks weren’t much of a surprise after the first or second time, I was surprised by my holder sticking to his guns and pushing me to do something I didn’t want to do. My spin kicks were far from perfect, but I got the job done. I think that’s what I can do at this point in this place of uncertainty–not be totally surprised when dealt blows or even a bit of dirty fighting, but I can use my strength, cunning, confidence, and skill to fight back as best I can.

A New Normal

change-directions21

What do we do when our reality is traded for a new one? How do we let go of what we can’t control, influence what we can, and embrace our new normal?

I can’t seem to jump very well anymore. For a while my strength was improving, but recently it seems that I haven’t so much hit a plateau as much as my body has decided to take a different path. I first noticed it when I had to exert a lot more effort to spring myself into the air for box jumps in physical therapy. (At least I can do them. About this time last year when my physical therapist tried to introduce them I was in tears with anxiety.)

I’m noticing it quite a bit in taekwondo. It’s harder to get off the ground, hike my knees up, and heaven forbid if I have to add a kick (or even worse, a twist) at the apex of that jump. It’s exhausting, and I feel like my legs are made of lead. My thoughts alternate between, “Come on, Black Belt, you’ve got this!” and “What’s wrong with you, Black Belt? Kids can do this. Maybe you don’t deserve your belt.” I feel like I should apologize to my instructors for being a disappointment.

I suppose I am entering a phase of a new normal. Maybe I just haven’t quite accepted the fact that I am not the kickass gazelle bouncing around that I see in my head when I’m in taekwondo class. I’m almost 40 years old, and in reality I’m lamely spazzing around in a too-big uniform that feels like a soaking wet king size bedsheet when I sweat. Despite my brain yelling “GO! GO! GO!” I’m slow in sparring matches and am finding the more gravity-defying aspects of my martial art increasingly difficult.

It’s frustrating that when I’ve reached the age, maturity level, and belt rank to understand the nuanced mechanics of taekwondo, my body can’t do them either at all or not very well. Although I sincerely believe I had to leave taekwondo as a child and go through a bunch of stupid shit for the next 20 years to find myself and find my way back to the dojang, it makes me wonder. Had I continued taekwondo into my teens or even stopped and taken it up again in my twenties rather than my thirties, would my muscles, nerves, bones, and brain would be more finely tuned to and more adeptly able to execute the movements that are becoming harder and harder for me to pull off?

Perhaps I’m not as hopeless as I think. Perhaps this is a new “normal” state of fitness for me: I easily swam for an hour this morning. Despite having to really haul ass in physical therapy to do my exercises, my jumps were pretty good today (I DID get my knees up and clear my boxes and land softly like a kitty ninja), my balance had improved, and I did nearly 9 continuous minutes of holding planks. And y’all, I can do a form like nobody’s business. Not bad, Black Belt.

Plus, I’ve noticed improvement in the more advanced aspects of taekwondo, notably around self-defense. In the end that’s rather what I’d be good at anyway. I can probably go my whole life without ever needing to do a 540 kick–good because I can’t do it anyway. Some of my kicks–the ones on the ground anyway–have become more solid and make more of an impact, which serves me better in a fight than more complicated kicks.

For my fellow martial artists reading this, I’m not discounting more complicated airborne kicks. This is not sour grapes because I can’t do them. Many people not only do them beautifully but do them effectively . When you’ve been whomped in the chest by someone slamming into you with a 360 roundhouse you appreciate that kick very much.

On the upside I’ve gotten pretty good at teaching and coaching. I might not be able to do a jump spin kick or a 360 roundhouse, but I can help someone else do them, and that is honestly more satisfying than being able to do them myself. If I can be one of those aging ladies who punches wood, slams guys on the floor, and inspires students to work hard and believe in themselves then I’m good. If this is my new normal I’m okay with that…but it’s hard to let go and it’s hard to embrace my new normal.

So how does this translate to “real life?” As I hinted at in my last post, my reality has been shaken up quite a bit. A new reality is being presented to me, and I have to choose how I will interact with it. Will I spend all my time mourning what I can no longer do and what I have to give up? Will I fight myself into a futile corner? Or will I take advantage of the opportunities lining the new path in front of me? Will I embrace a new reality and a new identity? I think I know what I will do.