Ted Lasso-ing Your Imposter Syndrome

          I haven't posted on here in years. Since my last post, I have changed careers from ministry to clinical mental health counseling. I am in my last year of my MS in Counseling degree, at 46. When you're in your 20's and early 30's, the culture expects you to change your mind/career/location. People love a glow-up story from younger people. Once you're in your 40's, big career change is often viewed differently. People tend to want to cheer you on, but also kind of check if you're ok. They seem to secretly wonder if you're having a midlife crisis. High-stakes life changes can sometimes come with a LOUD inner voice shouting, "You can't screw this one up, sister! You better be sure you can pull it off!" 

        While I preach to my kids about how mistakes are important opportunities for learning, let's face it, we're all way too aware of the "comments section" people in our lives. Those people who may follow us on socials but don't really know what our life is. When we're doing something new and risky, we don't always have the strength for Q & A. If you have ADHD like I do, your inner voice is more like a Rebecca Welton than a Ted Lasso. If you haven't seen Ted Lasso yet, start now. You'll thank me! Rebecca fully expects Ted to fail. Ted looks right past the success-failure binary and relentlessly pursues learning, connection, compassion, and reconciliation. This show CHANGED MY LIFE. For those of us in a lifelong tug-of-war with imposter syndrome, Ted Lasso offers the perfect solution--love for the learning process, compassion for self, and connection with supportive others. But, just as Ted Lasso's courage shouldn't have been underestimated, don't underestimate how much courage it takes to offer compassion to others, much less to yourself. 

          I was recently gifted a pottery wheel when my daughter organized a "wheel fund" among some of my close friends. She knew that I have longed to get back to throwing pots after decades of missing it. She also knew I would never spend money on that for myself, because I felt guilty about spending money on another degree in midlife. She gave me the gift, not only of a wheel, but of permission to pursue something unrelated to productivity and utility. She gave me the gift of creative joy. However, every potter will tell you, you can't make beautiful pots without lots of pots flopping. Even if you throw the "perfect" pot, there's a solid chance it will crack while drying, or crack while being fired. If you're so focused on producing a "successful" pot, you'll see the flopped bowl on your wheel as a sign of failure, instead of a sign of growth. This happened to me yesterday, when I threw a "perfect" mug, only to accidentally knock into it and squish it. As soon as it happened, I noticed my inner voice become like Ted Lasso's haters. I turned off my wheel, stomped back into the house, went to my room, and cried. 

      Sometimes our inner voice can sound like that press-conference scene in Ted Lasso where the reporter asks, "I just want to make sure I get this right. You're an American, who has never set foot in England, whose athletic success has only come at the Amateur level, second-tier one at that, and is now being charged with the leadership of a Premier-League football club, despite clearly possessing very little knowledge of the game." Ted replies, "You got a question in there, Trent?" The reporter replies, "Yeah. Is this a *!#* joke?" The stories we tell ourselves about ourselves may come from important people in our childhood, from trauma, abuse, grief, and all sorts of other experiences we had no control over. But, like Ted Lasso, we can choose to challenge those negative stories. 

       Ted chooses to take that same reporter, Trent, out to lunch later, knowing full-well that Trent saw him as an incompetent imposter. He asks him, "What do you love?...Me, I love coachin'. And I'm gonna say somethin' again, just so you didn't think it was a mistake the first time I said it. For me, success is not about the wins and losses. It is about helping these young fellas be the best versions of themselves, on and off the field. And it ain't always easy, Trent. But neither is growin' up without someone believing in you." When we're feeling like a fraud, obsessing over our failures, I wonder what it would be like if we asked ourselves these questions: "What do you love? Which people/practices/spaces help you feel safe growing into the best version of yourself?" I wonder what it would be like if we practiced telling ourselves a new story? What if we started imagining what the voice of a safe, compassionate, encourager might say to us? Someone who lights up when we walk in the room. I wonder if we can imagine being that person for ourselves sometimes?

        After a hard loss, Ted Lasso asks a player, "what's the animal with the shortest memory? Sam replies, "A goldfish!" Ted says, "That's right. A goldfish only has a 10-second memory. So let's be sad now. Let's be sad together. Then we can be a gosh-darn goldfish. Onward. Forward."  Besides BEGGING you to watch Ted Lasso, the point of this post is to invite you to join me in trying to adopt a goldfish memory for your imperfections and mistakes, and an elephant's memory for your inherent worth. Join me in asking yourself, "What do you love?" instead of "What is the comments section saying?" Join me in cutting the feed of the voices who are quick to list why you're not ready to do a new thing, and turning up the volume on the voices who encourage you saying, "Onward! Forward! So, all my "imposters," are you with me? Let's be angry together. Let's be sad together. Let's be discouraged together, then we can be gosh-darn goldfish! Onward! Forward! 

💜 Amy