Invitations to address my own impulsivity have been coming too frequently for my comfort lately.
I don’t think of myself as impulsive, but recently I have observed myself in a couple of interactions that immediately afterward made me think “Why in the actual hell did I do or say that?!”
The first was a few weeks ago when I stomped upstairs at my office building to tell the tenants above me how loud they were being, and assuming…no, knowing…certain even that the noise was intentional. It turns out it wasn’t, and as the tenant scanned my body standing in their doorway, I realized my fists were squarely on my hips, elbows out, like Wonder Woman. I was posturing in intimidation…and I hated that realization.
The second was just this week when I shared what I believed to be some real, expert-therapist-level, life-changing, brain-altering feedback with a long-term client. As soon as the words, (declared as a truth instead of a questioned as a possibility) left my mouth, I knew I had created a rupture. I watched their face shift, and what happened next was an alarming questioning of my care and love for them. That. Fucking. Sucked. The session ended with frayed ends and I felt entirely undone. They probably did too.
Sometimes feedback comes as actual verbalized feedback, and it also comes as responses to us from others, the universe, and within ourselves. My initial response after both of these experiences was pretty harsh towards myself. “How could you do something so dumb?” “You should know better…” Oof, “should have known better.” If that’s not a gut punch, I don’t know what is.
“You’re not perfect, Jesie.1 You’re going to make mistakes.” my mom said as I tearfully shared with her about the interaction with the client. That was the feedback and social connection I actually needed.
In both cases, when I was able to regulate myself and dissipate shame enough to see clearly and to feel safer in my nervous system, I was able to see what needed to happen. In the first scenario, I took some time to sit with myself and my emotions, and I calmed myself. I reminded myself I was safe and allowed to make mistakes. I reminded myself that I am good, even when I do things that may not be aligned with my values. I reminded myself there are second chances, and that I have time and can take time.
The healing response in both was an apology. First, an olive branch to the upstairs neighbors, sharing that I had assumed intent when there wasn’t any. And the second, was a note to the client owning my misstep and inviting repair in coming sessions.
The difference in these apologies now is that I offered them not to get back into a “liked state” with either of these people (and believe me, I love to be liked) but it was because I wanted to get right within myself. I wanted to be in right relationship with Jesie. And that’s big growth for me.
Maybe the feedback is not so much about needing to address impulsivity, but rather an invitation to meet myself with kindness when I am impulsive. To make right what I can, and to meet with love what I cannot change.
Are you getting any feedback or invitations right now? How are you meeting them? Do you know you’re good even when you do things that aren’t aligned with your values?
The full statement my mom offered was “You’re not perfect, Jesie, but you’re as close they come. You’re going to make mistakes.”-and that, my friends is why my self-esteem is so deeply, and comically intact.