When I feel small I notice myself pausing at awkward moments in the conversation or inserting different words than what I mean. This used to happen more often, when I was around people whom I thought were more powerful than me. Now it just happens now and again—a gentle reminder to stay present. Yesterday lunch was a good example and I was paying attention.

I see that what I do first is to have the judgment that what someone else is doing is “better” than what I’m doing. I assign more importance to that person. Because I think their job title is bigger or more “serious” than what I am doing, I assume they are more powerful. This is where feeling small comes in.

It is curious to me that I still have this reaction. After living with my husband for 32 years and witnessing his personal power on a daily basis, I know that there are times when he is vulnerable and unsure, just like everyone else. Powerful people are not immune to being human. And the grass is not greener anywhere. I know that the national newspaper editor we had lunch with yesterday is very human and kind. He’s the godfather to one of our daughters, not a mega-star I don't know.

And still, I see that I can become overly sensitive, even defensive. Interesting to watch how this happens and to be able to stay with myself. Confusion is one of my defenses as I become hyper-vigilant, watching out for when I will be taken advantage of.

I also see myself doing what I am really good at, which is bringing other people into the conversation. I’ll say a few sentences to highlight someone else’s achievements and invite them to elaborate, or I’ll introduce a theme. Good to recognize that this is a skill that can balance out my deficits, and to acknowledge and honor that I have some skills and use them generously. In my women’s circle, we call this a “Yay, me! moment.”

The good news is that I’m not the only one who feels small around some people. It’s a common thing that people deal with on a daily basis. I’m happy that now I can see it and notice it when it pops up for me--this feeling of being insignificant and unworthy--and take care of myself in the process.

When I noticed that I was feeling exposed as a comment was made about our family Christmas card (where my husband and two daughters each write 500 words about what’s been going on during the year), I can let that thought float by. “Huh, I wonder if they actually think we are ‘silly Americans’ letting it all hang out,” or is this person showing genuine gratitude that we make the effort to be in touch?

As this blip crosses my radar screen I register it and move right along. No drama necessary. No need to latch onto the negative, unless I want to feel offended. There is no way I can or would control what someone else thinks of the fact that we send out a Christmas card that truly reflects where we are in our lives. Let it go, RARA.

When the conversation comes around to me, after we've talked about and celebrated everyone else, I mention that I just staffed a weeklong leadership camp for high school students and that my husband and I took a trip to Costa Rica fairly recently. “But you’re also a life coach and facilitator and have lots of clients,” urges my husband. Yes, that is true too, and I have just been the keynote speaker for Rotary and spoke to 120 women at the Women’s Leadership Conference of Southern Oregon. I feel good about where I am professionally now. And I no longer need to lay all that on the table as a justification for who I am. My “counting days” --where I meticulously add up all the times I have staffed and the certifications and the workshops—are over.

Life is easier now, more spacious.

What a relief. I know my husband only wanted to see me shine, and I was. I can be understated about what I do now (like my daughter saying she works for a magazine instead of saying she writes for Vogue). I don't have to dish up justifications and explanations of who I am, what I do, and how I live. I don't have to be in everyone’s face. Gone are the days of desperately trying, the proving and the striving, making sure that I know, and that everyone else knows, that I matter.

intricate tapestry of people who do good things. I am resting in the knowledge that I contribute. How “very American” to write about this! How very human to feel and to acknowledge. To trust.

The worthiness and self-trust I feel inside is still tender and new, even at age 58. There will no doubt still be times in the future when I will still feel small. But now I see that the power of noticing all this and knowing what actions I can take to connect, to feel love, and to belong.

Instead of getting hooked by my projections and the stories I make up, I can reassure and ground myself. I can stay in the present. I can gently motivate myself to stay current with what is happening right now. Who am I being this moment? Where am I placing the most valuable thing I have--my attention?

I feel joy in the knowing. I am who I am: a woman who has the courage to be responsible: to be able to respond to life as it happens.