There Is No Cheese Down That Tunnel

Hey, Boss Lady. I'm glad you're back for another installment of how to fail spectacularly. In the last post, I cracked down hard on "Victim-Mentality," or "Vic" for short. To catch you up in the most succinct way possible (assuming you didn't read that post or don't remember it), Vic is thinking "everyone, and everything is out to get me" when something goes wrong. It's the go-to "woe is me" response that is both unproductive and unbecoming when life proves challenging. 

This post is about Vic's fraternal (somewhat less problematic, but still very tricky) twin. Let's call him Wyatt. When shit hits the fan, every single human being asks, "Why is it happening to me?" (see how I did that) or "Why me?" for short. It's natural. 

Wyatt can be less problematic than falling into Vic's hands because the question of "Why me?" can be a productive internal dialogue IF you let it. How? By shifting the framing from external forces to an internal inquiry. Instead of asking, "Why me?" ask, "How may I have contributed to this?" 

That shift in perspective puts you in the driver's seat. From that vantage point (looking in the rearview mirror), you may identify something useful about yourself or the circumstances which may lend itself to growth, opportunity, expansion, improvement, or merely ways to prevent the thing in the future. (All assuming, of course, that the shitty thing that happened is something that is even in your control.)

If, however, you're asking, "Why me?" is in that similar tone of "everyone and everything is out to get me," then this isn't going to be so productive. So, ask the question, so you can get it out of your system, but don't get stuck with it because there is "no cheese down that tunnel." I give you permission to have Wyatt over for dinner and have a few drinks with him, but don't let him sleep with you because you will regret it in the morning. 

Going to sleep with that question is not only going to color your waking moments but your dreaming moments as well. Upon awakening, what was merely a question blurted out last night in a fit of rage by an upset five-year-old having a tantrum (yes, I mean you and it takes one to know one) has now become yet another limiting belief. 

How does that one question translate into limiting beliefs? Here's how. If you spend too much time with Wyatt, he begs you to hop on his Harley and head for "because you're not enough…" territory. Consider this example: Betty gets overlooked for that promotion again. When she receives the news, she automatically thinks, "Why me? Why can't I get that promotion? What is it about me?" Her immediate answer: "Because I'm not good enough." 

If someone was to process this with her, "But why don't you think you're good enough?" she might say, "I don't have the skills in team management they want me to have." That is a productive conversation and conclusion. One where we can tease apart the difference between not being "good enough" versus not having a particular skill or strength that holds her back from the promotion. A skill or strength that can be learned or attained. In getting to this answer, there is no crushing of the soul. Instead, there is the possibility of seeing this event now as an opportunity. 

However, not all of us go seeking out our sounding board or counsel when the bad news first gets delivered. A lot of the time, we process these things in silos and don't turn to our tribe because we don't want to be a burden. (Don't even get me started on that.) 

So, what happens if she spends too much time with the "not good enough" part instead of digging into the additional layers? "Not good enough" becomes the new story she tells herself. And that "not good enough" may translate into other ways she's "not enough." 

When we end up answering the "Why me?" question with ideas of not being good enough, smart enough, deserving enough, or not doing x,y, or z enough, we start to feed ourselves narratives that we internalize. The more we cling to these ideas about ourselves, the more they become embedded in our brain as a new neuronal pathway. And maybe you don't know this about neuronal pathways, but they are a bastard to get rid of.

Instead of flying into Wyatt's arms — who can be a tricky little jerk — here is a better question to ask: What can I learn from what is happening around me? Asking this question depersonalizes the situation. Now we can look at it both objectively and holistically, as though there is a much greater system for which we play a small part. 

Now when Betty doesn't get that promotion, and she asks, "What can I learn from what is happening around me?" she may come to discover that being passed over creates new opportunities for her to shine in the place where So-and-So used to be. Or, in observing that person's advancement, she more clearly envisions her own.  

Instead of feeling like we are the epicenter of the thing that just happened and it must have been done purposefully to us, and so we toss our head and hands to the sky and ask, "Why me? What on Earth did I do to deserve such a thing," let's ask a different question. Let's open up the examination of that shitty thing that just happened to include variables outside of ourselves. Let's agree to stop hanging out with Vic and Wyatt. They are a couple of people who don't have our best interests in mind, are sloppy guests leaving their crap all over the place, and really terrible in bed.  

Follow me here or connect with me here or on my blog to get more on each of these six lessons on failing spectacularly.

Or, if you can't wait for the next post, check it all out (along with the rest of my story) in my book "When I Die, Take My Panties."