#opinionswanted

Authentic vs. Imposter

I don’t talk much in detail here about the people in my life, but I need to open this post by saying I know I’m blessed. I have some of the best people possible surrounding me, cheering for me, supporting me. I have a good job with the very best co-workers, many of whom are dear friends. I have the most devoted (read: clingy, neurotic, riddled with separation anxiety) dog, and life is good.

One night last month, I had one of those sweet, simple and yet so impactful nights that I know I’ll remember for the rest of my life. A friend coordinated a get-together, and four of us whose lives intersected through the Junior League but have stayed entwined through cross-country moves (and thankfully, back again!), seven children, my divorce, and more, sat down and picked up as though there had been no pandemic, no years since we all laughed together. (I’m pretty sure the last time we were together was the baby shower we hosted for the first of the group to have a baby, probably about five years ago?)

I hope each of you has a tribe like that, or at least one friend with whom time and distance don’t exist, where conversations flow as though you’d just clinked glasses together the day before, NO MATTER WHAT.

… which brings me to the meat of this soul-barring confession…

My name is Chan and I am an imposter.

… and those brilliant, strong, beautiful ladies knew it all along and loved me anyway. Each of them tried to love me towards being authentic in her own way, but ironically, it took a pandemic and the isolation that came with it, our busy lives and all of the other circumstances that led me to being able to look them in the eyes and admit that I’ve spent my ENTIRE LIFE trying to be what I thought I was supposed to be in that moment, for this person or that one, for this role/job or another…

I was proud of being a chameleon, and I actually said so out loud many times. I NEVER stopped to question my logic, or to wonder if I could just be me and see what happened.

Honestly, it began before I have any recollection of being aware of my behaviors. I had to be on my best manners for this person, so she’d give me presents. (Literally… one of my few memories of her was of a post-toddler-nap moment when she rather succinctly explained that if I couldn’t be a happy, grateful little girl, I could give the toy she’d just given me back and go home.) Then, I was told I couldn’t pursue tennis as a passion because it required someone else to play with me. Then, yet another nurturer told me I couldn’t major in music in college because it would lead to frustration (as so few make it as professional oboists) and I didn’t want to be stuck being a music teacher.

I can go on and on, but my point isn’t to blame any of these people; I just want to know why it took me 52 years to realize I’m perfectly good the way I am and I don’t have to try to be what ANYONE else thinks I should be, or most specifically, I SHOULD NOT try to be what I THINK someone else wants me to be!

Impostor syndrome and the idea of being authentic are getting a lot of press right now, but this is hardly a 21st century issue. We’re watching Reign on Netflix, and certainly the characters depicted within were not afforded the privilege of pursuing what made them happy, fulfilled, etc. Nor is it uniquely an issue for females; people pleasers come in all shapes, sizes and costumes. I don’t think anyone in my life intended for me to make a life out of trying to guess what someone else thought I should be and doing my best to become it, but that’s just what I’ve done.

What’s most difficult for me to talk about, what I’m still very much working on, is how this all relates to my self-confidence. Up until very recently, I and most people who know me, would say I’m a very confident person. But the truth is, confidence is just one of the many costumes I’ve learned to wear well. I appear confident and self assured when I am feel I’m doing a good job in the role/image I’m projecting, when the people I am trying to please are pleased.

So tell me… what is one thing that is authentically you?

Plant based?

Edited to add… I thought this posted several weeks ago. (Read: at least 6 weeks ago?)

I’ve started so many posts, here and in my head. I know writing is a great release for me, and yet I don’t prioritize it… but that’s for another day.

I try to avoid the diet scene, especially after my failed efforts at even the modified Whole 30. (What’s the name of the version that allows beans?) If you don’t recall or weren’t around, basically I didn’t manage to get what I needed nutritionally from my not-meal-prepping effort, and I rather literally collapsed in the gym with a really heavy bar on my back. (Three cheers for the amazing trainer whose strength and attention saved the day!)

I knew better; I have a metabolic challenge (I’ve used the word “disorder” in the past but it’s not clearly defined and yet is quite manageable), and I know what my body likes/needs, and yet… I allowed myself to get caught up in trying a trendy thing that worked for my friends, even against my better judgment. It’s simple; my body NEEDS a lot of protein, a lot of fiber, water and very little sugar and/or “white things.” My body LOVES beans and legumes, doesn’t mind dairy, etc. There was no reason for me to jump on the bandwagon, but I did anyway.

So, I hate to say I’m eating more plant based now, because that’s a trend too, right? But my primary care provider (aka: nurse practitioner) gave me one more chance to lower my LDL cholesterol (hello, double-sided genetic whammy) and suggested just ONE plant based meal a week.

I agreed, and then got in my head. That’s like a diet, right? And we said we weren’t doing that again, right?

It’s not that hard. Most of my already fairly healthy recipes do quite well swapping beans (black are my favorites, but white works too) for ground turkey. Much to this descended from dairy farmers girl’s surprise, I often don’t miss the cheese when I leave it out. I add ground flax seeds to things when I can (it doesn’t work in smoothies), and I’m hoping the next round of blood work will be favorable.

Are you interested in my altered recipes?

Face your fears

Gretchen’s battle with anxiety inspires me almost daily, but this post is about my fear, specifically the one I’ve named since the day our vets were exposed to Covid 19 and had to change the way they do business. They are still not allowing non-staff into the building, and I knew that would be a challenge for Gg when she had to go visit.

What I didn’t know is that an unbreakable, pain induced, six hour long anxiety attack would get us there. Turns out she was yelping and trying to get me to take her somewhere (to the vet??) because she had another raging urinary tract infection, but it was an all-day diagnosis, because she’s very modest about the whole sample thing.

Happier hour Saturday afternoon

She lived through it. I lived through it, and if it was possible to respect and adore my vets and their staff more, I do. It appears she is back to being afraid of nighttime, but she has had a no-symptoms of the UTI pain day, and I’m delighted.

Valium is NOT her friend. We had tried it before, years ago when she was an awful (read: makes a mad cat look easy to pill) patient, and Friday night, I had to coax her to take it, hidden in her favorite pill pocket. Last night, she was already in full panic mode, so I’m shocked it went down even in the pill pocket, smeared with her favorite egg and cheese.

She panted and shook for three hours after that before exhausting herself. Tonight I’m going to take the Valium (kidding!) and give her more melatonin, which she doesn’t mind as long as we don’t stay heavy too many nights in a row.

Current situation with mild tremors

I’m sitting with her on the deck now, and feel we need to change things up with her sitter. SOMETHING (loneliness? a poorly timed bee sting?) sets her off about this time nightly. It isn’t even dusk yet, so I welcome any and all ideas. She prefers to be outside, and we often find her on the back deck when we get home, regardless of the weather, or amount of light left in the day.

Not being able to protect her from her fears is my greatest fear. What is yours?

Ankles and Probiotics

Yeah. That’s how my mind works. I’m positive I’ve shared Baby Tuckoo and the moo-cow (James Joyce, the stream of consciousness master) before, but that really is what goes on in my head.

My ankles are the complication right now. I’ve been doing body tempering and mobility work for a while, but clearly not enough to make my rigid ankles happy. They don’t bother me when I’m not running, (as in LITERALLY, only while running) and how much they bother me varies from day to day (shoe to shoe?). Ironically, I can jump rope longer than I want to without incident, regardless of what shoes – or none – I’m wearing.

(Yes, I have access to two amazing local running shops, but gee, neither is open for business and I’m not yet motivated to do a video chat with either of them.)

And probiotics. I have this notion I should be taking one, but don’t think the one I’m using is worth much. I have a love-hate relationship with supplements. I take them when it seems there is a need, and if they help, I continue. If they don’t, I ditch them. (Yeah… I need to add a multi-vitamin to my routine too.)

No, I can’t go to my healthcare professional. For starters, there’s this whole COVID-19 thing, but beyond that, I broke up with my long-time doc two years ago, because she landed in the middle of a mega-practice that is no longer remotely convenient to work or home. I didn’t click with the test-drive I took last year, and now we’ve changed insurance providers, so…

Here we are. When the air clears and the pollen settles, I already know who I’m making my annual appointment with, but who knows when that will be?!

Ironically, Gretchen has a great probiotic and we notice a difference when she’s off it. She too has a love-hate relationship with multi-vitamins and is currently refusing to take hers. Her joint supplement is also on the “no thanks” list, but if I crumble it up in her breakfast, down it goes and the gal is spunkier than she needs to be, so… all is well.

And for the record, being healthy ain’t cheap.

What’s running through your mind these days?

Un-Apple?

Who out there has broken up with Apple? (No, I don’t want to hear from the Android all along crowd, unless you have break-up information.) I’m not big on regrets, but right now, I’m really sorry I let my first smartphone, an Android, turn into an Apple. (It was a company phone, and…) I’ve been quite the i-Girl for a long while, but especially after FOUR calls to/from Apple to sort out something that was actually straightforward (and not resolved to my liking), I wish I could just trade in my phone, watch and tablet and make a clean break.

I don’t like proprietary bunk, and I especially don’t like being told I can’t wholly edit my account. Sadly, all of my i-devices are alive and quite well, so I can’t really switch them all out in the foreseeable future.

I am Google and Chrome all the way, and may have sincerely been one of the first people with a Gmail account, so it makes sense to go Android when I can, but if Apple won’t allow me to change my “alias” email (I can add, but can’t delete the one I want to see go away), it makes me want to plan my break-up NOW, ages before it will happen.

So if you’ve made the switch, what do I need to know? What do I need to do? I know apps will change, and that’s not the worst thing. I can certainly download all of the photos and save the important (read: dog!) ones, and I presume the phone company will have some way to export/import contacts – or not?! (I am suddenly reminded of all of the friends who post on Facebook “New phone; lost all contacts… message me with your number please!”)

I’m going to go do some yoga. I actually told one of the Apple reps he made me want to throw my phone – and I meant it.

Little Helpers

There’s so much I want to say and share, but digging deep and baring the soul is hard work. In the meantime, let’s get to know each other (again, better, etc.).

Today, it’s all about the little things I’ve discovered that make life easier, better. We are all about finding joy and laughter, crafting peace and living with grace.

Old friends know Gretchen is high maintenance. (Read: the dog is highly intelligent and overthinks everything, creating much anxiety in her little head.) I have mixed feelings about “home hubs” and too much automation, but the “puppy plug” changed our lives instantly.

Amazon calls it their own smart plug. We used it to replace the (broken) old school timer we were using to light the living room in the evenings, whether I was home or not. Here’s the best part: you don’t have to buy a hub! I downloaded the Alexa app, created an account linked to my Amazon account, and selected a pre-sunset turn on time.

Best of all, as long as the house and I both are connected to WiFi, I can do what I please with the plug. The pampered princess won’t have to be in the dark if I forget to bump the timer up or back as the nightfall moment changes. The pet sitter doesn’t have to remember to leave a light on for the girl. I don’t even have to remember to turn the light off.

Our perfect, precious sitter is much more than a little helper, and if you don’t know the story, Gretchen found her on her own. We are so, so grateful for our amazing neighbors, but especially so for that one young woman who loves Gg and tends to her happiness.

Chike is my morning everything. Thanks to the magic of manufactured nutrition, I get my coffee and the high protein breakfast I need in one large cup. I just can’t do FOOD in the morning, but I am not fit to be around without coffee and sustenance. I’ve used a lot of protein powders and Chike peanut butter flavor is the one constant on the smoothie shelf in the pantry.

I sure hope the summer heat is on its way out, but I need help staying hydrated year-round. I drink at least 100 ounces of water daily, but like a lot of people, I need electrolyte support sometimes. I keep a tube of Nunn tablets in my purse, at my desk at work and in the drawer at home. My favorite flavor is the watermelon, but I also like lemon lime, tropical and … all the flavors. I use the sport formula, but again, all of them taste great and work as advertised.

There are plenty of other goodies I use daily and loyally, but that’s the list for today. What makes your life easier?

Drawing lines

There’s a pleasant little challenge on my Facebook page now that spilled over onto my Instagram account and now… here we are. Not all of my pals are on all of the same social media feeds I am, and I want all of the feedback, all of the thoughts on this one.

I started this book about a year ago. I can’t remember who recommended it; ironically, I think I saw it on a social media feed. I follow an assorted mix of folks on Facebook, Instagram and once in a while, even Twitter, so many thank to whomever planted this seed.

And here’s the discussion, in typical Chan, stream of consciousness and almost run-on sentences…

I perceive myself as confident, capable and sometimes, yes… a badass. I am not senile or ignorant; I know I was a pioneer as a female firefighter in the 20th century. I realize that not many 50 year old women can squat, bench and/or dealift more than their bodyweight. While I work for and with some phenomenal, smart, talented women, I do still work in a male-dominated industry, and I hold my own. So imagine my surprise when one of those female powerhouses cut me off yesterday and scolded me, “Don’t sell yourself short.”

So I ask you friends, where is the line between being candid, self-aware, etc. and selling one’s self short?

Or as I asked on Instagram, where is the line between humble and selling yourself short? Heck, I don’t even claim to be humble. I play to my strengths and will go so far as to give myself credit for surrounding myself with people – especially in my girl tribe – who compliment and/or challenge my weaknesses and “areas with room for growth and development.” Being humble is a virtue I can only work at growing into, but now I’m curious… do I sell myself short?

The unvarnished truth is … I know I do. I want to pull (deadlift, if you prefer) 300 pounds. It isn’t unreasonable, given my build, my knack for picking up heavy things, or even when compared to my PRs (personal records) in other lifts, but for reasons I won’t even try to explain, the deadlift is my humbling lift. It’s THE ONE where my head gets in the way and I can’t find my way around it. Yeah, those of you who know about my back are making the same, safe, fair enough excuses I make, but the truth is, I am strong enough, fit enough, to move 300 pounds the roughly 30″ it takes to pull the bar off the floor and lock out with my short arms and legs straight, from the sumo stance.

But we aren’t here to debate whether I should or could deadlift 300 pounds. (I WILL, and you’ll all hear all about it when I do!) The point is, if I dismiss my potential there, I am selling myself short. And like any good fan of true-false tests, if it’s not 100% true, it’s false. So therefore, I do sell myself short and I need to stop!

So talk to me about selling ourselves short. Where are the lines and what do we do about them?