Should You Be Who You Think You Are?

I'm in the gym on a rainy afternoon. The music is quiet; too quiet for a gym. You can hear people grunting and panting. It's taken me a while to get comfortable with going to the gym - and I'm still not yet - but here I am, looking at myself in the mirror with these dumbbells.

I'm not only looking at myself in this weight room mirror - but because there is a mirror in front of me and behind me, I'm looking at infinite versions of myself in infinite weight rooms. You know when you're in a dressing room and there are the two mirrors on opposite sides, which make it seem like there are countless instances of you trying on those jeans? Same thing. It looks like there are billions of me pumping a very moderate amount of iron.

In a recent lecture by author and meditation expert Joe Dispenza, he uses this example of the multiplication effect of two mirrors facing each other, explaining that it's a representation of the unlimited potential realities we could experience. But for some reason, most of us settle on the one reality we've programmed our brains to experience over and over, based on an identity we've constructed to feel safe in our life.

An identity like, say, that I don’t belong in the gym.

The gym is historically an uncomfortable place for me. I hit puberty really late (like college) and was ridiculed in the seventh grade. Even though I could jump pretty high and made a track meet for high jump, some of the guys teased me in the locker room for being scrawny and hairless. This made me feel scared and defective. As they loaded the busses on the day of the track meet, I hid in the bathroom - perched on the toilet hugging my bald knees to my chin. Better to not participate than continue being the butt of a joke.

After that I decided I wasn't an athlete. I made an identify shift in blink of an eye. I started auditioning for plays and developed the identity of being an actor to and through high school. I picked one version of “me” and settled into that identity because it felt the safest. A few years of repeating that to oneself and it becomes reality.

I'm an actor, not an athlete.

Several times throughout my life, there have been invitations to change that identity. An old girlfriend said she wished we could work out together. My doctor told me a couple of jogs a month wouldn't keep me healthy. My friends like to exercise together or play pickleball, but I rejected those invitations because that's "not me".

If you're anything like me, you value authenticity. You want to be the you-est you and find acceptance for being that person. This is our desire for safety at work. It feels unsafe to consider changing ourselves (even if it's for the better). Don't get me wrong, we're all worthy of relationships where people accept us for who we are. It's OK to want to be satisfied with regular ole you without this constant voice that you have to be different to be whole.

However, citing a desire for authenticity and acceptance is a great place to hide from change that could benefit us. We have to get clear about whether we're avoiding an identity shift because we're truly at risk of losing an essential part of ourselves, or if we're digging our heels in because we'd rather not endure the discomfort of growth. (It's normally the latter)

Several years ago I experienced a messy breakup. It was messy mostly because I was dating a girl at work, and there was a big company conference coming up where we'd have to interact quite a lot. I recall sharing my fears of being around my ex with my therapist:

"How am I even supposed to function?" I sighed, "There's no way I'm going to enjoy this conference. The whole time I'll just be thinking about how she doesn't want to be with me anymore."

My therapist waited for a moment, then offered an idea that's been infinitely valuable: "You're an actor, right? What if you just play the part of someone who realizes that breakups happen - sometimes two people aren't a match - it has nothing to do with your worth. You can act as if you're the kind of person who can still find a way to enjoy time with other coworkers, even if it's contrary to everything you feel."

So I tried it, and it worked. It wasn't easy, but I played the part and came out of the conference unscathed and a little more resilient.

One of the most important things I've learned in the past 15 years is that our behaviors shape our beliefs. Though it's difficult to will ourselves to act in contrast with who we believe we are, when we choose to behave as a different person, our brain eventually writes a story that we are that person.

I'm a writer because I write, not because I want to be. I'm a guy who incorporates fitness into his life because I go to the gym. The things I do tell me who I am. Same goes for you. Sometimes our life circumstances tell us we need to change who we are, and the simplest way to do that is to change what we do.

But how do I make sure I'm not changing who I am for the wrong reasons?

Here are two questions I ask myself to help gain clarity on whether I should accept the invitation to change:

• Am I resisting change because I fear the sense of control or safety I'll lose while I experience the discomfort and newness of growth?

• Or am I resisting change because this is genuinely a situation where I'm changing myself to be more accepted by others because I feel shame about who I am?

Resistance to change isn't really a resistance to change itself. It's a resistance to loss. We fear what we'll lose if we begin to act differently, think differently or feel differently - and begin to tell ourselves a different story about reality as a result. But we’re not really losing parts of ourselves, we’re just expanding who we are.

I found myself in an airport on Sunday angling for boarding position and concerned about whether or not my wife and I would secure seats and enough overhead space for our luggage. I noticed my angst and disregard for everyone else around me and I remembered I'd be sharing this essay today. I saw my reflection in the window at our gate and recalled the anecdote about the mirrors and the multiple versions of reality available to us all the time.

I thought to myself: I know what fretting about boarding an airplane gets me; I've done it my entire adult life. Is there perhaps a reality where I don't worry about beating others onto the airplane and things work out anyway?

So I slowed down, let others pass even though I wanted to fast-walk in front of them to get my ticket scanned. We got seats, and there was space for our carry ons and everything worked out fine.

From what I've seen play out in my own life, it will only take a few more flights of practicing this new behavior and I'll no longer be the stressed at the airport guy - I'l be the guy who takes it easy and believes everything will work out how it's going to anyway.

Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. puts it this way:

“A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions.”

I wonder what new version of yourself you feel called to, and which new behaviors might move you in that direction?