Walking across the gym floor, I was excited for an outdoor workout on a mild winter day in Maryland. It was the height of the pandemic, and the gym had strict protocols in place to keep everyone safe. My mind was already on the assault bike and the bursts of fresh air I’d soon be enjoying. And then I heard it—a loud, commanding voice that pierced through my thoughts.
“Go take your temperature. You’re not special. Everyone has to do it, Misti!” Joanne, another gym member, shouted across the room.
It felt like the air had been sucked out of my lungs. My heart pounded in my chest, my palms dampened with sweat, and my vision blurred. It wasn’t just the shock of her tone—it was the sting of being singled out and publicly reprimanded.
Trying to keep my head down, I marched over to the temperature gauge. My hands were trembling as I held them to the scanner. The small LED screen remained blank.
“It’s not working!” I called out, my voice tight and anxious, sounding more like a scolded child than a grown adult.
“It is working! You’re not using it right!” Joanne snapped back. Her tone was sharp, and her words cut deep.
I took a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. What is even happening right now? I wondered.
“Why are you talking to me this way?” I finally managed to ask, trying to break through the fog of my racing thoughts.
“Because you have an attitude,” Joanne replied, her words dripping with accusation.
“How do you know I have an attitude?” I asked, feeling my chest tighten as she dismissed me further.
“It’s obvious,” she said flatly.
Every fiber of my being wanted to snap back. But beneath the anger, I felt something raw and familiar—shame.
“Exit stage right, Misti,” my inner voice nudged gently. “Don’t think. Don’t argue. Just walk away.”
I listened. Without another word, I walked out of the room, leaving Joanne and the standoff behind.
The Aftermath
Moments later, I stood frozen next to the assault bike, trying to refocus on my workout. Instead, I replayed what had just happened, steam practically pouring from my ears. I wanted to march back in there, to tell Joanne exactly where to go and how to get there.
But something stopped me.
I realized that lashing out—“giving her a piece of my mind,” as tempting as it was—wouldn’t solve anything. Her
tone, her assumptions, and her accusations would all remain the same, and I’d be left feeling even worse about myself.
Instead, I forced myself to pause and think through what had happened.
The truth was, I had forgotten to take my temperature a couple of times before. Forgotten is the key word here. Walking into the gym through the front entrance (instead of the back, where the temperature gauge was located) had disrupted my routine. It was an honest mistake. A fixable one.
Joanne’s reaction, however, had nothing to do with that mistake. Her sharp words had slammed into something much deeper inside me—a shame trigger I hadn’t even realized I carried.
You’re not special… her words echoed in my mind. But what I heard in my body was different. Growing up, the message I internalized had always been louder and more painful. You made a mistake had translated in my mind as, You ARE a mistake.
That shame burned inside me now, and I hated how easily it was triggered by someone else’s judgment. But as uncomfortable as this moment was, it gave me something I hadn’t had before—awareness.
I saw, for the first time, how easy it was for my mind to leap from someone else’s criticism to self-blame. Joanne’s voice may have sparked the fire, but the roaring flame of shame wasn’t hers—it was mine to correct. I realized I’d been carrying this weight long before I’d set foot in the gym that morning.
The Turning Point
With this clarity, I decided not to direct my energy toward Joanne, but toward myself.
I reminded myself that making a mistake didn’t mean I was a mistake. And that I deserved respect regardless of the circumstances. The angry part of me wanted to lash out, while the self-critical part wanted to shrink and disappear. But a quieter, wiser voice inside of me spoke up, urging me to take a third option.
The next time I crossed paths with Joanne, I made my boundary clear.
“Thank you for the reminder. But do not ever speak to me like that again. If you need to bring something to my attention and can’t say it nicely, ask someone else to do it.”
Short. Calm. Non-negotiable.
Joanne blinked, caught off guard, and mumbled some kind of acknowledgment before walking away.
I couldn’t control her tone or her assumptions, but I could control what behavior I allowed in my life. And that was liberating.
Beyond Shame
But the real gift of this interaction wasn’t just learning to set boundaries. It was learning to slow down and recognize the stories I tell myself in the face of shame.
Joanne thinks I’m careless? That doesn’t make it true.
I’m overwhelmed right now, but that doesn’t mean I can’t handle this.
These are the reframes that kept me grounded, even as the sting of her words lingered. They’re also the same reframes I try to lean on whenever self-critical thoughts arise.
I learned a valuable lesson that day—not just about setting boundaries, but about how easily shame can resurface and how important it is to shine a light on those old, toxic thought patterns. When we start recognizing those patterns, progress happens.
And you know what? Walking away from Joanne without giving her that piece of my mind was progress. Rewriting the old shame narrative was progress. Setting a boundary was progress.
It didn’t feel perfect in the moment, but it felt like growth—and sometimes, that’s all we need to keep moving forward.
Key Takeaways
- Awareness is Everything: Joanne’s comments revealed a hidden shame trigger. Recognizing that trigger allowed me to see how my past was influencing my present and gave me the power to challenge those old beliefs.
- Set Boundaries Without Apology: You can stand up for yourself without losing your cool. Boundaries don’t have to be dramatic—they just have to be clear and firm.
- Reframe Your Self-Critical Thoughts: Catching that inner voice when it veers into unkind territory is a game-changer. Remind yourself that making a mistake doesn’t define who you are.
- Walk Away When Needed: Not every battle needs to be fought. Walking away is sometimes the most powerful act of self-respect.
Every tough encounter brings us a choice—to repeat old patterns or to learn something new. That day at the gym, I chose the latter. And for that, I’m grateful.
Here’s To Your Greatness,
Misti Burmeister
Misti Burmeister has been solving people problems and empowering leaders for nearly 20 years, increasing engagement and productivity across generations. Help your team reach its highest potential at https://www.MistiBurmeister.com