Lately I’ve started noticing this nasty habit we women have of downplaying our magnificence.  It seems that after years of living with ourselves, of taking our talents, gifts, and accomplishments for granted, we have no idea what separates us from the herd.

My friend Steve called me on this ridiculousness just the other day.  Steve’s a big, strong dude I guided up Mt. Rainier last summer.  We climbed this rather godawful mountain tied together by a rope. Which meant that if Steve—all 6’6”, 240-pounds of him— tripped and fell into a gaping crevasse, it was my job to drop to my knees, stick an ice axe in the slope, and keep him (and me) from plunging to his death. (I know, sounds like fun.)

See, Steve thought it was pretty impressive that a 5’2” blond chick could cart an 80-pound backpack up 14,000 feet of elevation, all while managing a rope team, and keeping folks like him alive. Especially since he knew what his own (80-lbs) pack felt like. What was required of him to forge ahead day after day, not run screaming home to Mommy.

Me?  Pshaw. T’weren’t no biggie.

Tell me that’s not sick.

My friend Anne is in her 70’s.  To hear her talk, you’d think she’d spent the last half-century clipping coupons.  This is a lady who skydived for the U.S. National team, flew commercial airplanes, guided adventure trips through Nepal, wrote four books, and sailed the Drake Passage to Antarctica.  Mention any of these huge accomplishments and she’d shrug her shoulders and ask what you’re ordering for dinner.

I have a coaching client I’d like to slap upside the head.  I can’t believe she doesn’t see what’s so glaringly obvious to me. (But that is, I suppose, why we coaches get paid the big bucks.) For the last 25-years she’s run her own successful design company, supported two children without a lick of help, employed others, run the old-boys’ gauntlet, and overcome serious financial challenges. Like the rest of us, she poo-poo’s her strengths and focuses on her flaws. (I know you’re reading this, Honey, and, yah, I’m talking about you.)

Here’s why I think we dismiss our magnificence:

• We’ve been taught it’s not lady-like to brag
• We mistake humility for playing small
• We’ve been socialized to keep the playing field level; not to raise our heads above those of our sisters
• We’ve been warned that standing out is downright dangerous
• We believe that to shine is to somehow take away from others

I’d like to think that each of us has been placed on this planet to share our gifts.  That each of us is blessed with unique talents and traits. That to utilize them fully, we must first recognize them. After that, it’s up to us not to waste, but to polish them.

Do you know what sets you apart?

Do you have a talent that others stand in awe of?

What comes easily to you that others seem to struggle with?

If you were going to write a resume for life, what would you list for skill sets?

When someone pays you a compliment, what do they say?

If you were dropped on a desert island, why would you survive?

Let’s open our spiral notebooks and start a little list.  We’ll jot down all those tendencies, traits, and talents that make us unique. Each time we think of one, like when we notice how neatly we load the dishwasher, we’ll write it down.

Imagine how these pages might help when life isn’t going our way.

And one more suggestion.  When we finally, finally, finally recognize how awesome we are, let’s start fucking acting like it!