Filed under: Misc. Humor, Posts, Sports | Tags: adulthood, funny, Horses, humor, mental health, self aimge, sports
Have you ever felt like you have no business doing what you’re doing? Like you are in no way qualified, and that any minute people will see right through you? It’s called Imposter Syndrome, and most of us have all felt it to varying degrees.
“I cannot believe people are actually trusting me to take care of a real, live newborn baby. What are they thinking?”
“I am in no way qualified to do this job – these people really need to work on their hiring process.”
“I have no business being in this competition. Everyone else is better than me. I’m just going to suck, then have a meltdown in my car and go home.”
(By the way – despite my fam calling me “Dr. Libby” because, let’s face it, I like to diagnose – sometimes correctly – people based on totally sketchy things I’ve read, I am not actually a doctor and am using any actual medical terms pretty loosely. I am also not in any way trying to minimize real mental health issues.)
I don’t often feel that way – probably because of a very misplaced, innate sense of self-confidence, or because I take great care to keep people’s expectations low…I mean LOW…so they (and I) aren’t disappointed. But lately I’ve been wallowing in it – with my sport and my appearance.
Let’s talk about Imposter Syndrome in sports – I’ll follow up with appearance in the next blog. Most of you know I love riding horses. The smell of the barn, the necessity of being present, and of course the partnership that comes with hard work and trust. But the last few months have been a mental struggle, feeling like I’m not accomplishing anything and that I really don’t deserve to move on to the next level.
In the horse world, feeling like you don’t measure up happens A LOT. At some barns, people can be judgmental about the horse you own, the quality of your tack or your clothes – like Mean Girl judgmental. Even the very nature of horse shows is judgy – you are literally paying someone to judge you.
But I’m not showing right now, and I don’t belong to a barn where people are competitive with each other – in fact, it’s just the opposite. We are incredibly supportive, even when we see the train going off the rails. So why do I still sometimes feel like I don’t deserve to be riding the horse I am leasing?
I think it’s because Imposter Syndrome can also be caused by our own reception of kindness.
What I mean is, it’s easier to dismiss people who are judging you who don’t know you, don’t know your story, and don’t know your goals. It’s harder to live up to people who are being kind. It’s a whole lot easier to say, “She’s a bitch and doesn’t know me, so I can let her judgement go.” It’s a lot harder to say, “This person has invested an interest in me and is helping me work through my shit. I don’t want to disappoint them…but I know I’m going to. I don’t deserve to be here, doing this because I’m going to suck.”
Wow – so you feel bad when you think people are being mean, and you feel bad when people are being nice. You (and the nice people) are in a lose-lose situation.
So how do you break out of this? Someone probably has a dissertation about it, or a self-help book on how to deal with this…but here’s what I’m trying to do.
Recognize that real kindness comes from a place of compassion, with no expectations. The only expectations others who are kind are putting on me are fictional – my own brain is coming up with these all on its own. I need to remember to recognize it, own it and embrace what is being handed to me.
Practice talking positively to myself. I need to remember to not talk to myself any less kindly than I would to a friend or a neighbor. Part of that positive talk is keeping perspective and looking back on how far I’ve come.
Recognize that there are good days and bad days, and they’re both okay. Some great advice I got was from a Pilates instructor who said at the beginning of every class, “Do the best you can with what you brought today.” It’s important to recognize that I’m not going to kill it every day. And, on the days when I don’t and the whole ride is a shit show, I need to take a nugget of positivity – even if it’s “Hey, that was a shit show, but you didn’t die – look how strong your legs are now!” Or, “That was a mess, but what did you learn? You can use that next time.”
So, for the friends who are being kind to me, don’t feel bad and please don‘t stop – it’s a me issue. Plus, you get actual mental and physical health benefits from being kind, too. For those of you who are in fact judging me (when I haven’t paid you to), piss off. I know you’re an Imposter, too.
Filed under: Exercise, Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Travel | Tags: Exercise, fitness, games, islands, jeff probst, lying, pop culture, reality television, relaity tv, relationships, sports, survivor, television, travel
I don’t know what it is about Americans in particular, but we seem to like watching TV shows that make sporting events out of activities other people do in their daily life. Off the top of my head, Survivor and American Ninja Warrior come to mind. American Ninja Warrior takes the obstacle courses military organizations used to use for training and makes it into a giant, high-tech jungle gym for middle-class gym rats. Americans play Survivor on islands where people actually scratch out a living every day – not just for 40 days and then are flown back to their AC and Netflix.
And I love both of those shows.
We still watch Survivor. I hate the people, and it makes me mad, but it’s a train wreck each season, and there’s been 38 seasons. It seems I’m compelled to watch adults relive 8th grade by lying, backstabbing, deciding as a group who’s undesirable, and seeking revenge later on as an outsider.
I like Survivor because it has contestants that can do all the things I can’t in prolonged, difficult social situations. Here are 9 reasons why I would never win survivor:
- Starting Fires: If I don’t have Fatwood from Plow and Hearth or a stack of old newspapers, I’m pretty useless. (Voted Off – Day 2)
- Food-shut downs, or “The Hangry’s:” Based on people’s reactions to my food shut-downs, I’m pretty sure I would be voted off in the first three days. Apparently, I become unreasonable and just a bit bitchy. They would probably require my one item I could bring to be a Snickers. There is no way I would voluntarily eat sugar-free food (i.e. rice) for 40 days straight without being one of those contestants that gets all listless and weepy (Voted Off – Day 3).
- Hot flashes in the Jungle: I always feel superior as I watch these skeletal twenty-somethings running around wearing teeny-weeny bikinis in the heat and humidity of whatever island they’re dropped on. I dare them to try that with a muffin top while having hot flashes. (Voted Off – Day 4)
- Compete without injury: I’ve got bad shoulders, bad hips and I throw like a chimp. Not exactly your desired anchor man in most competitions. That said, you need some swimming done? I’m your girl. (Voted Off – Day 6)
- Solve puzzles: Can’t. Never could. See this?
I’ve never been able to do it. Or this? 
I took those apart or smashed them, depending on my mood. I could proibably hide that deficit for a few days, but not the whole time. (Voted Off – Week 2) - Sunburn: I have an appointment this month to get more pieces of my face taken off (again). I’m pretty sure living on an island for month without sunscreen would hammer that last nail in my peaches-and-cream coffin. (Voted Off – Week 2)
- Think logically when tired: Let me put it this way – people at work know not to
give me anything after 3:00pm because my brain is tired. I’m pretty sure logical, chess-like thinking is not going to be my strong-suit after being sleep and sugar deprived. Also, I still can’t figure out how to put on one of those bra things that makes your straps into a racerback. (Voted Off – Week 3) - Maintaining the Lies: One time in the airport I was looking disapprovingly at a girl with a tramp stamp and a thong hanging way above her pants as she tied her shoe; two men were staring at me and laughing at my expression, not even paying attention to the thong. Apparently, my face does not hide my feelings as well as I thought. (Voted Off – Pick Any Day I Look At People)
- Razors: Seriously, people and after 40 days, people would run away from the Sasquatch that I have become. And the guys who wax their chests on the show? One of my favorite things ever is to watch it slowly grow back in on each episode. (Voted Off – Day 39)
So sorry, Jeff Probst. I’m only fodder for the first episode, where they winnow out the sick and old, like lions culling the weak water buffalo from the herd. But American Ninja Warrior – that’s another story. I’m going to get Hubby to build a Warp Wall so we can start practicing.
Filed under: Exercise, Misc. Humor, Sports | Tags: clothing, Exercise, fashion, fear, health, smell, sports, underwear, working out
Warning – this one is completely tasteless….read at your own risk…
I recently had a lengthy debate with some girlfriends over whether women should “vent the furnace” or wear underwear at night.
For those who said yes, that sleeping without underwear was their preference, the most common reason was because a long time ago, their mothers had said it was healthier. My mom never said that, so I’m perfectly happy to be wrapped up like a Puritan every night. Maybe the fact that I’m not going “nonederwear” explains why I have so many hot flashes at night – all that heat must have to go somewhere.
But apparently the idea that it is healthier to go without underwear is the same for whether or not people wear underwear with their exercise shorts that have the lining in them. It seems that I am the only person in the universe that doesn’t go spongebob nudiepants at the gym. But I have reasons:
- I’ve seen the sweat puddles in the exercise machine seats, and I don’t care how many wipes you use, once you see it you can’t get it out of your mind. I don’t want my stuff lathered up in someone else’s body butter.
- Men should double bag because no one wants to see the mouse get out of the house when it’s time to stretch. Women should do the same thing, because, let’s face it, sometimes a little landscaping might be amiss, and nobody wants that distraction either.
- And finally, I have a (completely unfounded) fear of Cooter Stank. I’m not the only one – have you seen the multitudes of products out there to prevent it? And, weirdly, I’m not worried about it the rest of the time – I only freak out about it at the gym. Even that doesn’t make sense because, let’s face it, morning workouts in the gym can be overwhelming to the olfactory senses. Every day in the gym, no matter which gym you go to, it seems like there’s Man Who Ate Garlic Last Night, The Coffee Breather, and Please Use Deodorant As A Courtesy To The Rest Of Us Guy.
So, here’s an actual conversation in our house about wearing underwear under your shorts at the gym:
D1: “Mom, you wear underwear to the gym?”
Me: “Yep.”
D1: “Why?”
Me: “I’m afraid it will smell.”
D1: “What will?”
Me: “The Cooter.”
D1: “Wait…what? Who calls it that?”
Me: “Me.”
D1: “I know somebody who has an ‘I Love Cooter’ magnet on their fridge.”
Me: “You know that’s a political magnet, right?”
D1: (Eye Roll) “Yes, I know, Mom. I get the joke. But seriously, you know everybody in the gym smells bad, right?”
Me: “I know, I just can’t help it.”
D1: “You’re weird.”
Me: (In my head – “You’re half me…” – secret smile)
Filed under: Exercise, Posts | Tags: 10k, Exercise, fun, marathon, monument, race, Running, sports, sportsbackers
- In all of your race pics (at a purchase price of a mere $18 each), there’s no thrill of victory or agony of defeat – you just look irritated, like your headband is too tight.
- You get super-annoyed and embarrassed when the guy running in the inflatable T-Rex outfit passes you – and yet you just can’t muster up the energy to try and catch him. Grandmas doing that weird run/walk thing also pass you…you know the ones – their upper bodies look like they are running, but their legs are just walking.
- You pour water on your face so you look sweaty just before you run past your gym’s sponsor tent, then walk the rest of the way.
- Every hill feels like Mount Everest, and nothing like level 10 on the tread mill.
- You consider stopping to see if the nice first aid people need any help in their pretty red tents; then you find the port-o-john with the longest line and stand in it.
- You don’t care at all what your race time is – you’re just happy you finished without needing a trip to the orthopedist and a bottle of Aleve.
- You own the cool Bluetooth headset but still carry your phone in its ridiculous mom-phone case.
- You seriously consider taking one of the beers those college kids in the togas are handing out, but you know it will end in guilt, a handful of Tums and maybe vomiting stealthily on T-Rex guy’s shoes from behind.
- Your special running socks don’t do shit – your hips, legs, and even your size-A boobs hurt after mile one. People who actually achieve nipple chafing seem like they’re another species.
- …and yet you sign up repeatedly for “races” with misplaced optimism:
- “I know I can do more than one mile this year…”
- “This year the weather will be warmer/cooler/sunnier/cloudier so I’ll do better…”
- “Wait…you put me in which flight?”
- “I’ll just start running with you guys and walk when I need to…”
- “Next year I’m going to start training earlier…and dress up as a Velociraptor.”
Filed under: Exercise | Tags: bicycle, bikes, Exercise, gerbil, gym, spin, sports, treadmill
One of the many reasons I’m not a runner is because it hurts every joint from your hips to your toes. When I hopped off the still moving treadmill and tried to stretch my hip by twisting my leg into a pretzel, the gym trainer made me get on the exercise bike instead.
I hate the bike. I hate it with a passion I usually reserve for pedophiles, animal abusers and people who don’t use their turn signals.
Partly, I hate it because I associate it with those ultra-considerate people who ride bikes on the country roads by my house, taking up an entire lane while going 10 mph, and holding up traffic for miles. I dislike those biking enthusiasts even more when they have the audacity to grump when I shoot past them because…that’s right, I LIVE ON THAT ROAD. Bikers, I’m glad you’re out for your afternoon of freedom and exercise, but I live 20 minutes from town – I’ve got shit to do and errands to run before I too can enjoy the great outdoors, and you’re making it take even longer.
But I digress.
Mostly I hate the exercise bike at the gym because I sweat like a politician telling the truth as I do the hill climb or whatever cardio Hell they’ve decided to throw at us. I start wheezing because it’s hard work pedaling up an imaginary hill to nowhere. I suck wind like I’ve been dutch-ovened after a chili cook-off because, in order to make the RPMs like I’m supposed to, I have to lean over and use the arm rests on the front of the bike. No big deal you say? You try flailing your legs in a tiny circle in record time while you’re bent in half. It’s like running on a gerbil wheel while trying to lick your stomach.
Did I mention that I hate the bike?
When I’m done, completely spent and in danger of becoming a “sprinkler,” (one whose sweat dances off their body and onto others) I go to the office, shower and examine the damage. I will never be able to go to the OBGYN while I’m having to ride this Inquisition torture device – there would be some questions asked about the bruises all over my inner thighs. Helloooo…ever heard of seat cushions, oh Makers of the Almighty Exercise Bike?
So, I went out and bought some actual exercise leggings for an added protective layer. It didn’t help. I still look like I’ve been riding a bony bucking bronco every morning.
And I will never understand those people who do spin classes and say how much they love it, how addicted they are.
I think it’s a cult.
They probably keep hundreds of gerbils spinning on wheels in their homes just to watch them go, because they’re so obsessed; and, I’ll bet some of them spin to power their eco- and gerbil-friendly homes as they try to challenge Lance Armstrong’s over-sized, steroid-tripping heart. Over-achievers, if you ask me. I would much rather walk and jog on a fake road, thank you very much.
I will always hate the exercise bike, but the bottom line (aside from the ones on my actual bottom) is that it does rest my hip joints, and I’m no longer in danger of flying off the back of the treadmill while I stretch during the hardest parts of the workout (I’m not stupid – I’m not going to waste the walking portion with stretching).
So don’t worry Lance, you and your gerbils are in no danger from me.
Subourbon Mom 