Last week I was at the physical therapist, and the gentle, expert woman was pressing on a point in my forearm and asking where I felt the muscle releasing.
I wanted to answer her. I was paying her so she would help me. But instead of telling her what was happening in my forearm, I blurted:
“Honestly, I’ve been working so hard to ignore any sensation coming from this part of my body that it’s hard for me even to answer the question.”
“Mostly what I feel is afraid.”
“Mostly what I feel is this intense desire to think about something else, and just not feel my hands or my arms at all.”
Reader, I started to cry.
Not because my forearm hurt. When I finally focused on it, the release felt good. The tears came because I realized I’d been suppressing the signals from my body. I found them unpleasant and inconvenient, and I didn’t want to face them. By deciding to ignore those feelings, I’d let my body deteriorate. I’d been losing something precious.
Good golly.
This is what I hear from clients about work
As a coach, I recognize this. It’s the misery people describe enduring at work.
They’re tough. They can put up with the toxic personalities and the unreasonable hours to deliver for the client. But when I ask gentle questions about what they want, or what they fear, the tears sometimes come. They’ve stopped listening to themselves. It’s scary, unpleasant and inconvenient to really tune in. And somewhere underneath, they know that if they keep ignoring those quiet internal signals, they’ll lose something essential.
I see this all the time. I’m a wise coach who theoretically understands it. And as I sat crying in the stupid physical therapy office, I felt a wave of compassion and admiration for the courage my clients show. It is so hard to stop ignoring something when you’ve spent a long time pushing through.
The identity that keeps you stuck
I like that I’m tough and sturdy, that I can put up with discomfort to reach a goal. I’m not a wimp or a complainer. Not too fussy.
But that identity has led to an alarming loss of function in my hands. It was tolerable until suddenly it wasn’t. Maybe being proud of what I can put up with isn’t serving me.
If you’re a high achiever, I suspect you know this story well. It’s probably part of why you’ve been successful. It can also be a habit that keeps you in a job that’s wrong for you long past the point where you should have noticed.
A question to ask when you tell yourself “It’s not that bad.”
I’m trying to notice what I actually feel. (Phew. Big step.) And when I catch myself saying, “It’s not that bad,” and attempting to shake it off or toughen up, I’m trying to ask:
Is this temporary discomfort moving me toward something I value? (I’m looking at you, goblet squats.)
Or
Is this twinge a signal that something I value is being compromised?
The first kind of discomfort is worth pushing through. The second is information about an essential part of you that you’re not attending. Ignoring it will not make it go away.
Ugh. People. This is very hard. It’s why I’m paying a gentle, expert woman to help me face this pain and heal it. I go back shortly, and I’m hoping I won’t be such a crybaby this time.
If this sounds like your work life
If the source of your pain is misalignment at work, I know how to help you, and I know how hard it can be to face. Please don’t ignore it.
If you’re asking yourself whether it’s time to leave, or whether there’s any way to make things better, I can help. I am a gentle expert, and I know the steps to recovery. I’ll walk by your side until you get there.
