"Steve, this is unacceptable. Call me ASAP."
Immediately a jolt of energy and shame overcame me as I read the note. I felt my face start to drain, and I went into panic mode. After years and years of reinforcement, my response was predictable: Freeze, hide, say nothing significant, and make no promises. When my babbling and lack of substance in my explanations further annoy and frustrate, I feign confidence. I try to be someone I'm not; over promise and be a yes-man trying to win their approval. In the end, I make the situation worse.
Around age 10, we grow into a new level of self-awareness. Not only are we stepping into our self-identity, but at this age, we are also becoming conscious of how others view us. The input we get and how we interpret that input is buried subconsciously and silently dictates how we understand events and react to them. How we direct our responses slowly becomes like a person leading the traffic that we don't even notice, we just simply follow. The first three to four years of stepping into my self-awareness and observing how others viewed me felt like a continual input of humiliation and ridicule. The way that I chose to deal with this as an eleven-year-old was from my reptilian survival brain: fight, flight, or freeze.
There are many times in my life. I felt panic, but I have found it helpful to go back to the times that still feel raw when I think about them. Those times more than any others seem to dictate how I behave in a high stress, high-pressure moments today. Healing and accepting raw parts of my past has blessed me and helped me step into uncomfortable situations with peace and self-assurance vs. panic and fear. The following is one such story.
Failing in front of others:
When I was around eleven years old, my brother walked into his room and showed me a paycheck he earned doing part-time weekend work. It turned out he was an ice hockey official, and to this day, I believe it's one of the highest paying part-time incomes someone can have. I had never played hockey before but asked him if this was something I could do. He was very excited at the idea of training his little brother in something he loved and quickly said yes. Most levels of hockey use two officials, and our thought process was he would be my partner for my first games so I could lean on him for help.
My brother was doing me a favor being my partner, but he needed to make sure this was going to be worth his time. He was getting paid $150 per hour at his current experience level and going to my beginner level would cut him to around $35/hour, so he booked high caliber games like tournament championships for higher age levels that paid more. If my feet already can't touch the bottom of the pool, what does it matter how deep the lake is so long as he keeps me afloat? We went as deep as possible. I started officiating tournaments with kids that have skated since they were three in front of filled crowds in the arena that the Chicago Blackhawks practiced.
I'd played athletics since I was five and grew up with "Old School" coaches that were yellers and would ridicule in front of everyone. I had the experiences of playing in big games and messing up in front of a lot of people. Those experiences sucked but weren't the end of the world. I felt like I'd know what to expect when people were mad at me officiating hockey, but I was wrong; this was different. This type of live public humiliation in front of 1000+ angry people, mostly adults, vehemently insulting me at that age 11 changed me.
The games
It's my first game; a holiday tournament. In hockey, when the official notices a penalty, they
1) See an infraction and put their arm straight up in the air, so everyone in the arena knows a penalty is coming
2) Remember the number of the player that committed the penalty
3) Remember the team
4) Remember the infraction they witnessed
5) Do their best to track the location of the player that committed the penalty
6) Track which team has possession of the puck
7) Once the team that committed the penalty gains possession of the puck, blow the whistle and stop
8) Point to the player that committed the penalty
9) Yell what the penalty was
10) Do the sign language of the penalty, so those who can't hear can understand
11) Skate over to the scorer's booth, inform them of the number of the player, the penalty committed, and how long they need to stay in the penalty box.
That's a lot of steps to do, especially for someone who learned this four weeks earlier and doesn't know how to skate. I saw my first penalty, and my arm went up; all eyes are on me now. Mentally I'm rehearsing all the steps when I realize I don't remember the number of the player who committed the penalty. I search for him frantically, but I think he was substituted out. That's when panic kicked in, and my reptilian brain took over. I literally could remember nothing. I called nothing. I did nothing. While my arm is still in the air, possession changed two or three times, and people started yelling in anger, wondering what's going on. Eventually, my perplexed brother blew the whistle and skated to me.
I said, "Jeff (my brother), I don't know what player committed the penalty, what team they were on, or what they did."
He replied "It's okay, grab #22 from the white team and do a tripping sign. It will be fine."
I realize the reason now the moments after this were profound in solidifying how I react to being overwhelmed; panic & freeze. Everyone from both teams and their fans were mad at me. I wanted to hide or be as blended in as possible but officiating is a very peculiar role that doesn't allow you to blend. In my state of mind, to not be noticed and hide, I didn't make another call. Unfortunately, the exact opposite of what I wanted ended up happening. Without me keeping order because I wanted to hide, the game got violent. Kids started fighting, people were hurt, and I had a coach run into the ice in the middle of play to confront me, and we had to kick him out. Parents were screaming at me. Everyone saw my shortcomings and ridiculed me for them. It shook me to my core. I've faced humiliation before but never that public. At this highly influenceable time in my life, I concluded I am a nuisance, whether I do something or not. My mere presence irritates people, and it's better without me.
After some encouragement from my brother, I decided to make another run at and see if the next batch of games could be any better. I tried to learn from my mistakes, and one of the main things I committed to change was to "sell the call." After some begging, he ended up agreeing to do a few games at the lowest possible level with me. Unfortunately, the thing about officiating 5-6-year-olds is, like me, they didn't know the rules, so it was all the more chaos.
In my quest to be accepted with this new "sell the call" approach, I only made myself look like more of a fool when I was questioned. In these games, parents and coaches were even more personal in their insults, and my raw wounds from previous games made their words solidify what I believed about myself. A habit formed of measuring success by how much ridicule I received instead of if I believe I made the right decision.
As life continued on, I noticed I developed a panic trigger whenever anyone was upset with me, and my reactions followed the same pattern of freeze or "sell the call." If a client or boss was upset, I would panic and literally not hear what they were saying. I had no idea what to do and wanted to melt into the background. My lack of leadership and taking control of the situation irritated them more, which made me turn to "selling the call." My confident-sounding claims or commitments fell apart and put relationships into a downward cycle because I wasn't accountable or wasn't telling the whole truth.
Healing
There are many people I can name, but I reached a point in my life where I wanted help. I knew I was better than this and knew my panic was all in my head. Through a 2-3 year journey, I learned that my 11-year-old brain perceived a situation the same as feeling like it was actual life or death. Consciously I know I wasn't going to die, but deep down, it felt as though I was. I didn't die my so my response of freeze and feign confidence solidified as "correct" and something I should keep doing. Eventually, that solidified response was like a person directing the traffic that I never questioned or even noticed. I followed his orders like someone would a stoplight. The healing came when I realized I wasn't a victim to the person directing traffic. The reality was I was that guy, and I was unconsciously trying to steer away from danger.
Once I identified that part of me, it was helpful to think of it as a literal separate person. Can you guess how I talked to that person I blamed for my cowardly reactions? With unfiltered rage, just like the crowds did to me. It was because of him and the spiral he causes that I was unloved, unrespected, unwanted, and unaccepted by everyone. It was because of him that shameful situations only got worse. If he directed me to respond like a fighter or a warrior, people would love and respect me. This phase of anger went on for almost a year. The deep rage I didn't know I had triggered, and I expressed it in a and healthy way with a safe community of others. (See Crucible Project and Bob Rourke Professional Coaching in the footer of this page). Eventually, that anger and rage dissipated, I saw that guy directing my responses in a different light. Seeing him different allowed me to start having different conversations with him.
With my anger fully expressed, I felt a genuine curiosity and could approach this part of me with a clearer mind. My question became, 'What is this traffic guide trying to get by having me react the way I do?' I found I wanted to feel intelligent, respected, accepted, and loved. I never taught the traffic guide any other way to guide the traffic besides freeze and feign confidence, so that's what he did. It was time to show the traffic guide a new map he could direct traffic.
The Story
Facts are certain events that happen. They are verifiable and without emotion. They are science, math, and events with no interpretation. It's a fact I officiated hockey games. It's a fact 1000+ people yelled. It's a fact I heard another official say the words, "Your brother has no business officiating anything more than the lowest level." It's a fact I was 11.
Judgments are how we interpret the facts. Judgments are the stories we tell ourselves about the facts. Judgments are what trigger emotions. For example, "As an 11-year old, I did a terrible job officiating hockey games. I froze, which made 1000+ fans yell at me." A video recording can't capture a "terrible job" since that's a judgment. A video recording can't capture me "making" fans do anything because their triggers dictate how they respond, not me. The judgment I developed as an 11-year-old was I'm a coward, I am stupid, I am unloved, I am unwanted, I am un-respected.
A new story
I cannot deny the fact that those events happened. Something that helped me accept the events is to re-write my judgments in a way that I genuinely believe. It's challenging for me to receive my own praises, so I had to look at it as if I was looking into another boy's story first.
This is a judgment, but hockey is a fast-paced complicated sport that's multiplied in difficulty because you have to skate. If I saw an 11-year old that saw something he wanted on the other side of the canyon, and that boy had the resolve to study his butt off pass multiple tests, then build a bridge on his own to get there, I'd think he's entrepreneurial and intelligent. The truth is, that's me. I can accept I found a way to make my own way and can accept that I am entrepreneurial and intelligent.
I imagine seeing a kid construct a bridge over a deep valley with jagged rocks. He takes the first step onto the bridge, and it collapses. Not only did he fall into the canyon, hitting anything sharp on the way, but the bridge also fell on him too. He climbs out very wounded, looks at his materials, and rebuilds with some adjustments. He's terrified now, and his wounds are throbbing from the previous fall. With a deep breath, tears, and prayer, he makes it three steps; then it collapses on him again. I witness this over and over and over again. Eventually, I see him make it across, but he is too battered to enjoy it. I know this boy is courageous, and I have a deep respect for him. The truth is, that's me. I can accept I stepped out time and again when I was so hurt and scared. I judge stepping out to be brave and courageous. I respect brave, courageous people. Because I'm brave and courageous, I respect myself.
I ended up officiating for three years and officiated higher levels with much greater comfort. If I saw this boy make the bridge over the canyon reinforced and carry more substantial and heavier loads, I would love someone like him on my team. The truth is, that's me. I can accept I rose in the officiating ranks and trusted with higher responsibilities. I judge that to be growth. I accept that I grew, and I want people who grow like me on a team.
If I saw a boy be sad about his story while constructing this "bridge over the canyon" because of all the hurts he's accrued, I'd want to hug him tightly and tenderly and tell him how awesome he is. I'd want to tell him how awesome his heart is and how bright he is. I judge the person wanting to hug and love that boy as having a great heart and soul too. The truth is the person wanting to hug and love that little boy is me. The truth is the boy who wanted to receive that love is also me. I can accept that I need love, but the person I needed it most from is me, and I can now give it.
The facts of my officiating hockey now lead me to tell a story that I am intelligent, I am brave, I am respected, I am wanted, I am loved.
Engraining the new story
The new story isn't easy to engrain. The hardest part is believing it in certain moods; that's why I find writing and journaling this whole process to be vital. It allows me to go back and see the thought process that led to my new judgments. Meditate on it. Affirm it. I still struggle with this daily, but it's better than it was. I had a mentor named Judson tell me it's like splitting rocks; the great news is splitting the rock relieves you greatly, and it's so much better to manage. The bad news is you will never stop splitting it.
Results
While I still get the panic mode, it's far less often.
Now that I have self-love, self-respect, self-acceptance, believe in my intelligence and think I am a benefit to the team, I am no trying to manipulate others to give those feelings to me. It sounds obvious, but when I stopped manipulating people, they treated me better.
Because I feel secure and safe emotionally, I can approach problems that I don't know the answer to with a sense of curiosity and wonder instead of terror.
Because I have what I need from myself, others getting angry or yelling at me sparks empathy instead of panic. I know their own set of stories, judgments, hurts, and fears led to their reaction.
Because I have more realistic exceptions of my abilities and am not viewing tasks from a paradigm of what will make people love me more, I can set far more accurate commitments which grow trust and accountability between myself and others.
Because I find myself important, I have learned to listen to myself and what I want. This has helped me seek win-win situations giving me far more passion and enjoyment in the roles I do.
Because others less threaten me, I can approach conflict in a far more empathetic and approachable way. I'm genuinely less of a lone wolf and more of a team player now.
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