Value Lessons | From my speedo, cap and goggles.

The “I am’s” and the “I am not’s”: 

I am a philanthropist

I am a great student

I am a hard worker 

I am a marketer 

I am successful

I am socially awkward 

I am not creative

I am not a good baker 

I am not a traveler 

I am not a good mother

I am not strong 

I label these as “value boxes”— boxes we put ourselves in that many of us think define our value, but can often limit our potential.   

When I was in my late teens, I used to think the worst about people who would not stop talking about the “good ol’ days” when they were a star basketball player, football player, baseball player… 

Enough already, that was 20 years ago.    

Not much later, I realized I had my own “good ol’ days” story—the difference was, I’d let go of mine. So I thought!

It went something like this:

The 4-year-old me was sent on a journey to determine what activity I liked best.  I tried out some options—soccer, softball, dirt bike racing, dance, martial arts—but swimming, that was love.  Starting at the age of 5 I was a “competitive swimmer”— and by competitive I mean my parents prayed I made it the full 25 yards without needing to be rescued or leaving with a concussion from playing bumper cars with my head and the lane line.  

The love affair between me and swimming started as a summer fling and quickly turned into a year-round relationship where I only had to be without it for 3 weeks in August. Needy, I know.   

I swam in different leagues, went through a cap every 2 weeks because my hair would not be restrained and smelled like chlorine, constantly.  Bonus, I was really good at it and received lots of attention for being an “awesome swimmer.” 

I fell so in love with being a swimmer. But you know the adage — love is blind. I once slammed my finger in a newly greased (thanks Dad) sliding glass door, cutting my finger open to the bone on the day of a huge meet where I was defending my record. I begged my friend to help me stop the bleeding and wrap it before my mom saw the gaping wound.  Unfortunately, at the age of 10, neither of us had much medical training so we were wildly unsuccessful. My mom’s to the scene from Carrie as she walked into the bathroom was to immediately escort me to get stitches. Which meant, I missed my meet.

To say I was emotional would be an understatement. And because I was tied to defending that record, that title, my ‘value’, my emotions were misplaced.

10 years into my relationship with swimming, things took a turn.  When I was 12, I got hit with a bag of bricks that I thought was puberty.  I couldn’t walk up a flight of stairs without being exhausted and out of breath. As an athlete in peak shape, it was clear that something was up.  After what felt like hundreds of vials of blood later, the doctors were unable to officially diagnose me but were able to figure out that my body was attacking (and destroying) the platelets in my blood—you know, the things you need in order to clot.  

I didn’t realize it at the time, but this was the beginning of the end of my swimming career.  There is no such thing as “down time” to catch your breath during swim practice. You’re on an interval, so you swim as hard and as fast as you can, and that’s your gift to yourself—extra time to rest.  When you feel like a limp noodle in the water, that strategy is worthless.

As the realization started to set in that things were taking a turn, I went through the stages of grief. 

“Grief and loss can impact our very sense of identity—how we define who we are”  - Guy Winch PhD., Psychology Today    

Because I had been swimming for so long, it was what I did, what I loved, what I talked about, what I was good at, what I received the most recognition for.

Who was I without swimming?  

A quitter?

Lazy? 

A failure? 

As grief goes, time was my friend and I was able to get over my disappointment in myself for not swimming through college and moved on. By “moved on” I mean I put myself into a new box—I’m a Biology Major (sighs deeply).  

These value boxes came up time and time again, until the light bulb moment came. I realized I was replacing one value box with another, with another and they all had nothing to do with my value.   

You are limiting yourself, Misha! The thing was I couldn’t understand why.

This is a challenge almost every person I know has dealt with/is dealing with.  

If I’m not this picture in my head of a provider, what am I?

If I’m not this picture in my head of a hard-worker, what am I?

If I’m not this picture in my head of a (fill in with something you label yourself as), what am I? 

These value boxes we put ourselves in are often created as stories to validate, fulfill or protect us at certain points in our lives from the people and situations around us. Sometimes, often, the protection is from ourselves (gasp - this was a kick in the face for me too).   

When you focus on a value box you think you offer or don’t offer, you miss out. On being great in other areas, on expanding your view of your value, of loving yourself without a box over it.   

If you are a great mother, WHAT makes you a great mother is not being a mother or the idea you have of what a great mother is.  There is a unique formula of characteristics that only you have that makes you a great mother and will also make you a great self-nurturer, volunteer, friend, mentor… 

With this realization, we have an opportunity to check on those value boxes and stories to see if and how they serve us. Today may be the day for a rewrite or to destroy that box so you can shine brighter.  

My question to you is this: 

What value boxes are you putting yourself in and are those boxes serving you?

If you are interested in diving deeper into opening yourself up to your potential, click the green button below and schedule time to connect with me!