Mental toughness: “Shifting the line” of your distress tolerance.

This past weekend, I had the pleasure of being a guest of one of my favorite former clients, Genesis Motor, at the annual Gold Gala. As you may recall, I had the honor of being a Genesis Original in 2023, a class composed of various artists, thought leaders, celebrities, and content creators who were brought into the Genesis family (no, no, this email is not sponsored by Genesis; I’m just setting things up so you know who, what, when, where, etc.). I got to drive one of their EVs (the GV60) for an entire year (if you’re looking for a replacement for that Tesla, I highly recommend considering one of the Genesis fleet of luxury EVs) and met a bunch of cool people who were part of the program, worked with Genesis, or floated through the Genesis ecoverse.

Because Genesis is one of the main sponsors of Gold Gala–the annual, invite-only star-studded celebration of Asian American artists, entrepreneurs, and initiatives here in Los Angeles–I was invited to join Genesis not just for the gala, but also for a women’s brunch hosted by Gold House that same morning. It was a colorful affair, chock-full of citrus mocktails, skincare booths laden with free products, and accomplished women from all walks of life. As the morning event came to a close, one of the speakers at the breakfast encouraged us to “skip the small talk” and “go deep” with the women we talked to that morning or at the evening’s gala.

With that in mind, I hurriedly shimmied into my gown later that afternoon. I’d decided to go with a dress that had been sitting in my closet for a year instead of something new. It was a fairly straightforward evening ensemble–a plain, elegantly cut black dress, the necklace Anthony gifted me for my birthday one year, my engagement ring, tiny diamond studs. I knew that many others would be wearing custom designed ball gowns, featuring celebrity designers and intricately detailed jewelry, but I purposely chose to put minimal fuss into my “red carpet look.” This was, in large part, because I’m trying to be a lot better about saving money this year and cutting costs everywhere I can. But it was also because although I wanted to look nice, I didn’t want this red-carpet event to be about me.

I used to think I was one of those persons who enjoys being the center of attention; but, I’m starting to realize I actually don’t always like being in the spotlight. Sure, I know how to command a room (decades of trial lawyering taught me that) and I very much enjoy speaking engagements. But I find the whole concept of “celebrity” to be a little off-putting. What exactly have I done to earn that spotlight? Additionally, the implicit hierarchy at these events always leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Oh, you’re a VIP? Please head to this much faster, quicker line, where you’ll be treated like royalty and have your pictures taken. Oh, you’re who? Sorry, no this line is only for the VIPs. Please head to the left, where you can join the party with the proper level of anonymity your lack of celebrity entails.

I’ve been both the VIP and the “who are you?” at many red carpet events, and, on the whole, I loathe the artificiality of it all. Whether I’m the one being handled with kid gloves and plied with compliments or the one being shoved aside for someone prettier and younger and famouser, these things are, at bottom, a feast for the basest transactional instincts of “Hollywood” (or any industry that capitalizes on attention) and, for me, personally, a challenging exercise in ego.

I mean, it’s entirely human (isn’t it?) to feel a little “icky” when you’ve been standing in line, sweat streaming down your back, feet aching from your platform heels, while you’re about to get your photos taken and, out of nowhere, some random person (you don’t recognize) and her handler cut right in front of you without so much as a glance backwards. If you’re at the airport, you’re well within your rights to holler, “HEY WHAT THE HELL?” but in red-carpet land? You have to smile, adopt the guise of someone who is not asking herself, why am I not good enough? I know, I know. That’s just how the business works. I get that. And maybe I’m the only person who gets that “ugh” feeling every time the “you’re not important enough” label gets slapped on my shoulder, but having been on the unpleasant end of things, it also makes me skeptical any time someone hangs a “VIP” badge around my neck. It feels arbitrary, unearned, and silly.

Going as a guest of a client is the best way to attend these events, since I’m truly not there for me. I’m there for them. As such, it becomes easier to convince myself “I don’t care,” when the inevitable snubs come my way. After all, I’ve already proven my value to the people whose esteem actually matters to me. I thus try to view these opportunities as a chance to step out of my comfort zone, learn how to talk with strangers, and sharpen my “mingling” game. I also always enjoy meeting new people, hearing their stories, and finding connection points with individuals I would never otherwise encounter. “Going deep,” as earlier advised.

After about 2 hours of waiting around for the dinner chimes, I parked myself at a small cocktail table, surrounded by four tall chairs. I was nursing a small glass of orange juice “on the rocks” (I’m allergic to alcohol so don’t drink in public) when one of the women who works with Genesis strolled over to join me. Tiffany, a young woman in her 20s, was bedecked in a beautiful, shimmering blue cheongsam or qipao, a Chinese-style gown in honor of her heritage. It was her first time working a red carpet event for any company. As she settled into the chair next to mine, I asked her the obligatory “chit-chatty” questions: How long have you been with Genesis? Do you like working with Genesis? How’s your first red carpet event going so far? Are your feet ok?

But small-talk soon gave way to something more substantive, as Tiffany mentioned how much she enjoyed working at a company where there were few (if any) who exemplified the disruptive egos that often plague large corporations. There was that word, “ego,” the one that had been bouncing around in my head for hours. I asked Tiffany what she meant by that, and we soon got to talking about toxic competitiveness (the theme of last week’s email). As the conversation evolved, I asked whether she thought ego could ever be a good thing, an asset. She paused, then, for a moment, before saying, “I think so.”

Tiffany went on to explain that she was a big believer in the power of her own mind, or, as she said it, “mind over matter.” This concept of mental toughness was, of course, familiar to me as a long-distance runner. I’ve watched full on YouTube tutorials on how to withstand the last 8 miles of a marathon, which, if-you-know-you-know, is 90% mental. I confessed to Tiffany that I considered myself on the shallow end of the “mental toughness” pool–I have what I’d describe as a very low distress tolerance, which is why I go out of my way to avoid uncomfortable, unpleasant, and painful situations. I thus probed further, “Can you give an example of when your mind was able to make you tougher than you already were?”

“I’m a breast cancer survivor,” she answered.

It is amazing how instantly those words transformed this young, quietly spoken, hard-working woman sitting next to me. I put a hand over my mouth. “But you’re so young,” I gasped.

She smiled, politely, “Yeah, I know. It’s so rare to happen to women my age.” This is an understatement. Less than 5% of women diagnosed with breast cancer are under the age of 40. Tiffany was in her 20s. “And it came out of nowhere,” she continued. “I had just been to my physical and everything checked out. And then one morning, I woke up, and felt a lump. Went to the doctor and they came back saying ‘we need to run more tests.'” I could feel tears starting to prickle at the corners of my eyes. These are words every woman dreads. Felt a lump. Need to run more tests. They are absolutely horrible at any age, but in your early 20s? When you’ve just graduated from college? When you’re supposed to be saving up for your first car? Finishing up internships? Falling in love? Utterly unthinkable.

“It was stage 3,” she continued. I know very little about cancer, but I know enough to know that stage 3 is only one stage less than the worst, stage 4. “For the first few months, I had to go to chemo a lot and the first part of chemo was the worst. That’s when you lose all your hair and you’re nauseous all the time. It got so bad. There were days when I just wanted to give up. I just didn’t want to do it anymore. I didn’t think I could.” And though she didn’t say it out loud, her meaning was clear: there were days when I would literally rather die than go to chemo again.

“But, I would tell myself, ‘You have so much life left to live. You’re going to go do this. And afterwards, you’re going to do something nice like eat noodles. Read a good book.’ And I would tell myself this over and over again and it worked. I finished the chemo and I’m now in remission.”

I sat there for a few seconds in stunned silence. Sitting next to me was a tower of a woman, someone who described one of the most harrowing experiences a woman can undergo with a demure smile and total humility, when I asked her the question, “Can ego ever be a good thing?”

“You see,” she concluded, “there was a line I didn’t think I was strong enough to cross. But,” she paused to gesture with her hands, “I just shifted the line.”

One final question I had for her: “And now that you’ve gone through it, shifted the line… will that line stay there forever? Is it now permanent?”

She considered the question for a moment.

“Yes. Yes, it’s permanent. I know, now, if I can survive this, I can do anything.”

So, yes, I don’t often like these types of events. But the reason I keep going?

Buried behind all the tulle, sequins, and opulence, I somehow always manage to find the real VIPs.

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Parting Thoughts

I did all the writing I have inside me up above. So, I will end this week’s missive with the following very short Parting Thought:

How do you think your life would change if you could shift the line? Even just a little bit?

Wishing you all the best,
-Joanne

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