Making Mistakes vs Being an Impostor (10-9-24)

Over the past few weeks, a few of you made comments about impostor syndrome, so I wanted to explore that for a series. This entry is about making mistakes, feeling like an impostor, and evidence. Let’s start with a definition. Impostor (noun)- one that assumes false identity or title for the purpose of deception (Impostor Definition & Meaning – Merriam-Webster).

As many of you know, I do obstacle course races. I have only had 1 race where I completed every obstacle flawlessly. Usually, I fail anywhere between 10-30% of the obstacles. Here is what is interesting. When I fail an obstacle I tell myself, “I made a mistake” and move on. The thought that I might be an impostor who doesn’t belong on the course NEVER crosses my mind. Why is that? It’s because when I step back and take a look at the evidence, I see that it refutes the impostor claim. I have a wall full of medals that demonstrates I am an obstacle course racer. The evidence reinforces who I am and what I do.

What does this have to do with anything? When most people talk to me about impostor syndrome, they say something like, “I’m afraid that if I make a mistake they will find out I don’t belong here. If I make a mistake, they will see I’m an impostor.” Making a mistake doesn’t automatically make you an impostor. Making a mistake doesn’t mean you’ve assumed a false identity or are trying to be something you’re not.

Instead of assuming you’re an imposter, I’d ask you to step back and look at the evidence. If you zoom out, chances are that there is a mound of evidence that suggests you are more than competent and capable. If you zoom out, chances are there is a mound of evidence that suggests you are worthy of being in that room. If you make a mistake, you aren’t an impostor, you’re a human who makes mistakes sometimes. There is a big difference between those two things.

The challenge: Will you distinguish between being an impostor and being a human who makes mistakes? Will you remember to step back and look at the evidence?

Bonus thoughts- I used the obstacle course racing example, but I could have used different ones. I’m a slam poet who has bombed on stage, AND I’ve won competitions and been to nationals. The bad poems don’t make me an impostor. I’m a blogger that has written some stuff that isn’t that great, AND I’ve written some amazing blogs that have brought people to tears and made a difference. The weak entries don’t make me an impostor. I’ve made all kinds of mistakes at work, AND I’ve also won awards and been recognized for doing incredible things. The mistakes don’t make me an impostor, they just reinforce that I’m human.

Have a jolly good day,

Andrew Embry

Discomfort, Paralysis, and the Glacier Leap (2-7-24)

Last week was about discomfort and psychological safety. This week is about discomfort, paralysis, and the Glacier Leap.

The Glacier Leap is one of the obstacles at the Abominable Snow Race. You start by climbing up an incline wall (covered in snow/ice/slush) until you are on top of the first structure and about 7 or 8 feet off the ground. This is where things get interesting. You have to jump to the next structure making sure you position your body correctly and grab the bar tightly or you will fall.

When I got to the top of the structure, I watched as people would stand at the edge and peer down. You could feel them becoming more and more uncomfortable until they ultimately became paralyzed at the thought of falling. At that point, they wouldn’t jump. Instead, they’d turn around and climb down without ever giving it a try. I knew that the same thing would happen to me if I didn’t move quickly. I made a decision. I would step up to the edge, count out loud, and jump on three. Any more hesitation and the discomfort would turn to fear would turn to paralysis. So, I stepped up, counted to three and jumped! My hands grasped the bar, my feet hit a patch of ice on the wood, and I instantly slid down and fell. It wasn’t exactly pleasant. 😉 At this point, I was determined (or dumb), and refused to let this obstacle beat me. I climbed back up. This time I had an advantage, because I knew exactly what the discomfort felt like. I knew exactly what falling felt like. I had survived, and now those things weren’t so scary. I stepped up, counted to three, and jumped! This time I made it! With my heart beating out of my chest, I stepped up and jumped to the next platform! Success!

What does this have to do with anything? Whether you’re doing an obstacle course race or performing your role at work, sooner or later we all run into a patch of discomfort. When that happens it is easy for the discomfort to turn into fear which turns into paralysis. Have you ever experienced this at work? I know I have. I’ve walked out of situations and said, “I wish I would have asked this. I wish I would have said that. I wish I would have done something different, but I just froze.”

I wish I had a magic way to avoid this, but I haven’t uncovered one yet. All I’ve found is that once the discomfort starts setting in, I need to move. I need to take some kind of action before the discomfort becomes fear and before the fear becomes paralysis. During the obstacle course race I counted to three and then jumped. Counting was the trigger to move. What could your trigger to move be at work? Maybe you write down the statement or question you think you’ll want to make, so when you start to freeze you can just read off the paper. Maybe your action isn’t dealing with something that day, but scheduling time on calendars to handle it in the future. Maybe it’s recognizing that the paralysis is taking over and just stepping out of the situation to catch your breath.

The challenge: How will you ensure discomfort doesn’t paralyze you?

#yetination #abominablesnowrace

Have a jolly good day,

Andrew Embry

Discomfort, Psychological Safety, and the Yeti Challenge (1-31-24)

Last week was about embracing discomfort, so you can be successful. This week is about discomfort, psychological safety, and the Yeti challenge.

This past weekend I completed the Abominable Snow Race. I did the Yeti challenge, which consisted of 12 miles through ice/snow/mud/slush and around 50 obstacles. I was in a constant state of discomfort through most of the race. I was cold, wet, sore, covered in bruises, had a weird spot on my hand we call a yeti bite because we have no idea what happened (credit to Kristina Kittle for the name), and I was nervous/anxious/scared a fair amount. It would have been easy for me to say, “I’m uncomfortable, so that means this isn’t safe.” However, even though I was in a constant state of discomfort, the course and environment were safe. Plus, I felt like a complete bad a$$ when I crossed that finish line. #yetination

How does this connect with work and psychological safety? There are a lot of different definitions for psychological safety. At their core, I believe that most definitions center on the idea of creating an environment where people can be themselves and freely share their ideas without fear of negative repercussions. What you’ll notice if you read different definitions is that none of them promise a workplace without any discomfort or tension. This connects back to my racing story. I was uncomfortable for most of the race, AND I was still safe. In a similar way, it’s easy to be in a tough conversation or situation at work and think to yourself, “This isn’t comfortable, so this environment must not be safe.” This isn’t necessarily true. Tension, challenging questions, or a difficult conversation at work, doesn’t mean that the environment lacks psychological safety. Sometimes what we are feeling is just discomfort, and we need to find a way to process that and move forward. In my experience the more psychological safety I have with a person or group the more real conversations we can have that include tension and discomfort, and like how I felt when I finished the race I usually feel so much better after these convos. Is this true for you?

The challenge- How will you think about discomfort vs psychological safety?

Have a jolly good day,

Andrew Embry