Quitting Shame.

Shame. We all have it at one point or another. We feel shame about big mistakes we had tons of control over and also for aspects about us over which we had none.

As a quitting evangelist, I spend a lot of time helping people quit their limiting mindsets and stories that are holding them back. Oftentimes those stories involve feeling they have to live up to society’s expectations of them, or that they have to please everyone all the time.

But another big culprit that tends to sit ever further beneath the surface is the shame monster, and it gets to hide out there because our conscious minds don’t even want to go to that place when trying to tease out what mental blocks may be keeping us from playing full-out.

Shame researcher and author Brené Brown makes the distinction between guilt and shame in the following way: guilt is feeling you MADE a mistake, whereas shame is feeling you ARE a mistake. And feeling as though you are a mistake can sure have a lot of downstream consequences.

Just like on those days you plan to diet, but start off with a giant cinnamon roll and think “well, I’ve already made one mistake, the rest of the day I may as well not try,” feeling as though you are a mistake, or inherently flawed or bad, can prevent you from trying to improve and grow.

And it can certainly prevent you from putting yourself out there, lest someone figure out you’re imperfect in some shameful way (and you realize that depending on our upbringing, we can feel shameful about darn near anything.)

Now shame wasn’t a concept I was overly familiar with at the time I attended a coaching seminar and volunteered for a live coaching session. The facilitator had worked his magic into me half-admitting to an “I’m not enough” limiting belief. But as a fairly left-brained person, I was always able to logic my way out of that one pretty easily, so I wasn’t sure that was actually my nemesis.

Luckily for me, a woman in the audience was watching my live coaching and heard me say something that tipped her off to the fact that maybe it wasn’t that I didn’t feel I was enough, it was a matter of shame. She bravely approached me afterward and humbly offered her thoughts. She said, “I heard you say, ‘I’m just a country-bumpkin from the middle of nowhere, who am I to go hobnob with successful entrepreneurs,’ — is there any chance you feel some shame around your upbringing?”

This hit me like a ton of bricks. DID. I. EVER. Yes, having been raised in a family where my dad did such lovely unrefined things as pick his teeth with an electronic pencil while at the table in front of my friends all while living on the actual wrong side of the physical train tracks that divided my town into the haves and have-nots, this shame ran deep.

I finally got out of my small town and went to medical school, where seemingly everyone was from a richer family with physician parents. They’d all traveled the world. I’d never made it further than Canada, where I’d had lunch one day and then returned to the US. To make matters worse, my anatomy lab partner relished in pointing out how little I knew of the outside world as she’d regale me with stories of hanging out with the Prince of Monaco (is that a thing? it was some royalty from Monaco…again, too small town to have known the difference).

A lot of my decision to go into medicine was to save me from this shameful upbringing, as I knew it came with financial opportunities beyond what I was raised with, and the ability to work outside of the Midwest. But the lesson I learned the hard way was as follows:

You can’t run from shame. You can’t educate yourself out of it. You can’t earn your way around it. You have to face the monster head-on, or it will haunt you forever.

Fast forward to residency. By this time I own my third house and am rolling in a brand new BMW…none of which I could really afford, as I was definitely borrowing money from my grandmother at one point, but all of which I needed to keep the shame at bay. With these trappings, who could ever think I was poor?

After I finished residency and fellowship I was a full-fledged doctor, ready to make the big bucks and finally put this poor business behind me. There was just one problem: I didn’t like practicing medicine, and I knew that doing it for 40 hours a week (or more, as is required of most doctors) would kill me.

So while my med school friends went on to their well-paying (albeit often miserable-sounding jobs), I went to work for a job where I work 10 hours a week, and make just enough to pay med school loans and not have a roommate (which in Southern California is a true feat and probably a terrible financial decision on my part, but I digress…)

What did that lead to? Yep, you guessed it, more shame about being the poorest of the occupation that was supposed to have the highest earning capacity. Add to it me having later gotten a law degree (which should also lead to the big bucks but that I wasn’t using to get any bucks) and I continued to feel even more shameful of my meager earnings (again, only by doctors’ standards, and anyone else trying to pay off med school loans while living in said roommate-less San Diego condo.)

Returning now to the woman standing in front of me suggesting I had a shame problem. I was so grateful she had shared her insight with me. She was spot-on: I was ashamed of being from a small town, with an uncultured upbringing, and a sense of relative poverty I couldn’t shake no matter how much I made.

And I know I’m not alone. People (including me) hide much more personal things, like addictions, or affairs, or “bad” thoughts, or prejudices, or medical conditions, or sexual assault, or abuse. But at the root of all that shame is a feeling that we are bad, or unworthy, people.

So how do we start to heal our shame and rewrite our stories? As Brené Brown pointed out, a huge first step is realizing you are not alone. Many “good” and “successful” people have the exact same stories that you do (had to throw in quotes because those are such relative terms.) She pointed out in her TED talk that the phrase “me too” is hugely powerful to those struggling with shame (and this was years before the #metoo movement, but you can see why it was so applicable to destigmatizing assault survivors.)

Another key to quitting shame is the ever-repeated, but still ever-elusive self-love. When you feel shame, you are telling yourself you are a bad person, unworthy of love. How do you fight that statement? By showing that you *are* worthy of love by being loved, and getting that love from the hardest place to get it: yourself.

And a third step is to realize that what others may think of you has no bearing on you whatsoever. If your shameful secret is found out and you are judged, realize that is a reflection of the person judging you, not a reflection of you. Once you don’t take their judgments personally it will help remind yourself that you are not worthy of scorn, you are worthy of love.

Quitting as Self-Care

A few years ago the term self-care appeared as a means of describing anything that a person does to take care of themselves, like getting a massage, meditating, going for a walk in nature, or taking a relaxing bath in essential oils. All of the above are great ways to improve your physical and emotional health; however, they are often used not as a way to improve health, but to undo the damage caused by underlying stresses and simply restore one’s previous level of health.

Take meditation. It’s a practice that has been used for millennia as a means of trying to reach an enlightened state. But what do we often use it for now? As a means to calm ourselves down after an argument with a significant other or a way to gain a glimpse of equanimity before what we know will be a tough day at work.

In the above instances, meditation isn’t being used to take us to a higher place, it’s being used to get us back to baseline. And then the next day, when our job or our toxic relationships drag us back into sadness or anxiety, we use it again to bring us back up.

This is akin to using Tylenol to treat cancer. Cancer causes pain, so we take Tylenol to relieve the pain. This treats only the symptoms and ensures that we’re going to have to take Tylenol again and again each time the pain arises.

How would we stop that cycle? By curing the cancer.

Similarly, you can’t massage away a bad job and you can’t journal away a toxic relationship. In both instances, you’re merely treating the symptoms.

What’s the cure? Quitting.

Quit the job that’s taken your sanity day after day. Quit the relationships that have led you to the negative self-talk that requires hours of journaling and meditation to sort out.

Because all of the above self-care tools are amazing in their own rights, but are so much more helpful in improving your physical and mental health if you’re starting from a more stable baseline — which requires taking a good look (often through journaling!) at what is disturbing your peace.

So next time something has you anxious or depressed, grab that journal and write down what led to that feeling. Then start analyzing whether the cause can be quit. You may need a job-ectomy, or to have some toxic friends surgically removed from your friend circle.

And after you do, be sure to light some candles, throw some essential oils in a bathtub, and meditate your way to enlightenment — free of whatever was holding you back!

Quit and Unquit ‘Til You Find Something You Love (The Capoeira Story)

In med school I recall attending a cultural fair and from afar I saw a circle of people doing gymnastics, playing drums, and singing in a foreign language. I’m not sure any trifecta of things has ever been more in line w/ stuff I already loved, so I had to find out what it was. It was capoeira, and while I immediately looked into how I could learn it, I realized it was a little more intense than med school would have allowed, so I quit and let it go.

Fast forward four years and I’m at the University of Arizona for my sports medicine fellowship and they gave me an ID card that essentially let me do anything a student could do. So at 30, I decided to try to blend in with the college kids and I went to the student activities fair because I had heard they had a capoeira club and it was time to try this out.

I went to capoeira class there all of three times. There was no music, and no singing in foreign languages, but what there was was a lot of gymnastics on hard floors without mats and a ton of sit-ups on the same hard floor that my spine wasn’t having.

Let’s be honest, I was a very fragile, delicate, breakable flower who hadn’t done a sit-up in over a decade for fear of, and I’m not kidding, visible stomach muscles.

At the same time, I was working at the student sports med clinic and I’d see people from the class coming in with their capoeira-related injuries. I thought for sure this thing was gonna injure me in some fashion, and I was pretty fond of being uninjured.

So I quit capoeira.

With no regrets. Capoeira equaled pain and injury as far as I was concerned, and again, I had grown up as unathletic as you could imagine, so I ran far far away.

But then the next year I ended up playing in a Brazilian band called Group Liberdade, and during our shows, capoeiristas from Capoeira Brasil Arizona would play capoeira in front of us while we sang the capoeira music. And I looked around and realized that half of the people playing capoeira were women about my age and about my size.

What was wrong with me? Why was I such weak sauce?

Well not long after, fate stepped in. I moved to San Diego and my gym offered capoeira, so I decided to try again. And after a few months, someone suggested I check out Capoeira Brasil San Diego.

I did. On May 7, 2011.

Now the reason that’s my capoeira anniversary and not whenever I started back in Tucson is because like with any relationship, you don’t celebrate an anniversary from the day you met, but the day you made a commitment to each other. That’s the day I bought the uniform and made the commitment. I unquit capoeira.

Three months later, I was in the ER. I had taken an overly-aggressive cartwheel to the face.

Seven stitches, a chipped tooth and one sweet facial scar later and I had been more injured by capoeira than I could have imagined. Everyone was sure I would quit after that.

But I didn’t.

Two years later I landed a flying kick wrong and completely tore my ACL,requiring surgical reconstruction. Again, probably more injured than I had even feared I could be from capoeira.

But I didn’t quit then either.

A year after that I was told it was unsafe for me to continue training with the group I was with, thanks to some less than stable students (ok just one in particular). I had a choice: change groups (which is realllllly rare), or quit.

I changed groups and kept training.

Since that first capoeira quit I’ve tried more unsafe gymnastics on hard floors and done tens of thousands of sit-ups on concrete-ish surfaces. I’ve also gained more confidence than I could have ever imagined. The super fragile flower is now significantly less afraid of physically-demanding, super uncomfortable situations. And though it took about five of the seven years to get to this point, I actually enjoy playing in the capoeira games instead of just dreading it and hoping no one accidentally kills me.

Oh and there’s the music, which I live for…

Anyway, the point of this is that most quits aren’t fatal. Or permanent. So quit stuff if it feels wrong, because someday the right situation will come along and you’ll be ever so glad you’re not stuck in the old situation.

The other point is that I love capoeira. And my capoeira family.

And quitting.

Feeling stuck? Know there's a better life out there but not sure what's standing in your way? Let me send you the Top 5 Signs There’s Something You Need to QUIT!
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