Episode 28: The Second Sentence Is the Suffering

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Pain is part of life; extra suffering is often a story we add. The first sentence is the fact—boring, security-camera neutral. The second sentence is our swift conclusion: “This means I’m behind…they don’t respect me…I always mess this up.” That add-on thought spikes emotion and narrows options. In this episode, you’ll learn to separate fact from story in the moment, try on gentler alternatives, and choose actions that create relief instead of residue. Five minutes of “second-sentence” awareness can return hours of energy to your day.

What You'll Learn

• Why the “letdown effect” happens (and how to stop making it mean you’re failing)
• A two-minute body check-in that reduces spirals without fixing or numbing
• A 3-step “Name → Normalize → Nurture” script for fast, kind self-regulation
• How to design micro-rest that actually restores (presence over productivity)
• One practical swap this week to land softer after your next push

Episode Transcript

Lately, I’ve been disappointed in my body.

For most of my adult life I could wake up early, fly through the day, and still have energy to spare. Now—hello, 40—my body says, “Actually, we need more rest.” I feel it as heaviness in my limbs, slower starts, a little fog. That’s clean pain—a feeling in my body that makes sense for what’s true right now. It’s disappointment and fatigue, not a verdict. When I keep it that clean, I can respond: adjust scope, communicate timelines, rest.

Where I get into trouble is the second sentence my subconscious brain likes to add:
“Something’s wrong with me.”
“I should feel like I did at 30.”
“Rest means I’m lazy.”

Those are thoughts—sentences in my mind—not sensations in my body. And they create a whole new wave of negative emotion (shame, self-attack, hopelessness) that wasn’t there a minute ago. That second wave is what I call dirty pain: extra suffering generated by untrue or unexamined thoughts layered on top of clean pain.

If you’ve listened for a while, you’ve heard me teach this before. I use it with all my clients because it explains so much about why we take the actions we take. We don’t just feel tired; we tell ourselves, “I shouldn’t be tired,” and then we overwork to outrun shame. We don’t just feel sad; we tell ourselves, “I’m failing,” and then we spiral in avoidance. The first feeling (clean) comes from life as it is. The second feeling (dirty) comes from what we think about life as it is.

Maybe your version isn’t hormones. Maybe it’s:

- A result that underperformed → clean pain: letdown in your chest; dirty pain: “I’m failing as a leader” (shame in your throat).

- Missing your kid’s event → clean pain: sadness behind your eyes; dirty pain: “I’m a bad mom” (guilt in your gut).

- A day that’s simply too full → clean pain: grief you can’t be in two places; dirty pain: “A better woman would make it all work.”

Notice the pattern: feelings are sensations (tight chest, lump in throat, flutter in the stomach). Thoughts are sentences. Clean pain = the first feeling that belongs. Dirty pain = the second feeling your sentences create.

So the work today isn’t to stop feeling. It’s to separate the sensation from the sentence, and then question the sentence that’s generating the dirty pain.

We’ll keep this light and practical. I’ll show you how I’m running this in real time with:

- Body + energy: “My body needs more rest” (clean feeling I can locate) vs. “and that means I’m falling behind” (dirty thought that creates shame).

- Aging + appearance: “My body changed and I feel sad” (clean) vs. “my body is wrong” (dirty).

- Parenting + calendar: “This is full and I wish I could be at both” (clean) vs. “I’m doing life wrong” (dirty).

- Work + boredom: “This task is dull” (clean) vs. “I’m lazy; I can’t do it” (dirty).

- Loss + grief: “I miss them” (clean) vs. “I’ll never be okay again” (dirty).

By the end, you’ll have a simple, repeatable practice: feel the clean pain in your body, then question the thought that’s creating the dirty pain. When you do, you cut your suffering in half—and your actions get cleaner, faster, kinder. Let’s get into it.

TEACHING

Let me show you how I think about this in real time.

When something happens out in the world — the circumstance — my mind immediately offers a thought about it. That thought creates a feeling in my body. From that feeling, I take an action. Those actions add up to a result I can actually see.

That’s the self-coaching model we use here:
Circumstance → Thought → Feeling → Action → Result.

Now plug clean vs. dirty into that flow:

- Clean pain is the first feeling that belongs with the circumstance — grief, sadness, disappointment. It’s what your body does in response to “what is.”

- Dirty pain is the second feeling created by a sentence you added. The circumstance didn’t change — your thought did — which means your second wave (shame, guilt, despair) is coming from the sentence, not the situation. Change the sentence and you change the second wave — and the actions that follow.

Here’s why this is totally normal.

First: safety.
Your brain tries to “fix” clean pain by arguing with reality: I shouldn’t feel this; it shouldn’t be like this. That argument hurts. I like to say: “This is the part that feels bad, and nothing’s gone wrong.” It doesn’t make the feeling vanish, but it stops the wrestling match.

Second: certainty.
Your brain hates open loops, so it grabs control — overplanning, perfecting, people-pleasing — to soothe uncertainty. I give it a job it can win: “I can tolerate this feeling for ninety seconds while I do one small step.” Notice I didn’t promise to fix the feeling; I promised to move with it.

Third: Identity
If outcomes have been tied to worth, a disappointing result feels like a verdict on you. I remind myself: “This result says nothing global about me; it’s just data for my next move.” From there I can adjust, not attack.

So when a wave of clean emotion hits, I run this sequence:

- Label the feeling in one word: sad, angry, disappointed, anxious, bored.

- Locate it in my body: where it lives, how big it feels, what texture it has — explain it like you would to a five-year-old.

- Let 90 — allow about ninety seconds while I take the smallest planned action: send the invite, write two lines, move one task to tomorrow.

This works because putting language on sensation lowers reactivity; most waves peak and pass if you stop arguing with them. Pairing allowance with one tiny step proves to your nervous system, “We can feel this and move.”

And now here’s what I do with the dirty pain.

When you hear a global, identity-level sentence — the should/must/always/never lines or the “this means I am ___” verdicts — that’s your cue to question the thought that’s generating the second wave:

- Is that a fact or a thought?

- Would I hand this sentence to my best friend?

- Who am I when I believe it? Who am I without it?

- What’s a truer, kinder sentence I can try on today?

You’re not forcing positivity. You’re choosing accuracy — so the dirty wave doesn’t swamp the clean one.

Ok, great job so far. Up next, I’ll take you into a few lived moments — body/energy, aging/appearance, parenting/calendar, work/boredom, grief — so you can hear how this sounds in the wild and try it on your life.

EXAMPLES

Let’s put this on the ground and make it human. I’ll tell you how it sounds in my life, and as you listen, try to hear your own version.

Body + energy
As I mentioned, lately my body feels forty, not thirty. I notice it as heaviness in my limbs, slower starts, a little fog. That first wave in my body is clean feeling: disappointment. When I keep it that clean—“My body needs more rest”—I can respond. I cut scope, I communicate timelines, I rest.

Then my mind adds a second sentence: “Something’s wrong with me… I should be the same as 30… Rest means I’m lazy.” Those sentences create a dirty feeling: shame/self-attack. The shame isn’t coming from my body; it’s coming from the thoughts. That’s my cue to question the sentence, not wrestle the sensation.
If this is you, say once out loud: “My body needs more rest.” Let the disappointment land. Then tag the shame: “That’s a thought, not a fact,” and send one tiny timeline email.

Aging + appearance
And here’s a related one that I and so many of my clients and friends are experiencing: aging and appearance. Sometimes I catch my reflection and feel that little sting. The first wave is clean feeling: sadness/tenderness about time passing. “My body changed, and I feel sad.” No verdict about value.

The second wave arrives with meaning: “Youth is better. What I see is wrong. I’m less valuable.” That thought-stack produces a dirty feeling: unworthiness. So I split the sentence: fact—“My body changed,” thought—“My body is wrong.” Facts are neutral; the unworthiness came from the thought.

Try this line with me: “My body changed, and I can care for it.” Then take one care action—a haircut or jeans that fit now. If unworthiness spikes, name it as dirty and do the care action anyway.

Parenting + calendar
And now let’s talk about being busy working moms. Some days are simply full. Two things at the same time. The first wave is clean feeling: grief/annoyance—“This is a lot, and I wish I could be at both.” Clean feeling honors a real trade-off.

Then my brain adds: “I’m doing life wrong. A better mom would make it work. I picked the wrong thing.” That stack creates a dirty feeling: guilt/inadequacy fueled by borrowed standards. My sanity line is, “This is full, and I’m choosing.”

Let’s do it together: “Clean: grief. Dirty: guilt. I’m choosing.” Now one boundary for today: “If two things conflict, I’ll pick one, send a two-sentence acknowledgment to the other, and I won’t re-litigate the choice.” Then one kindness to future-me: a five-minute FaceTime after the thing I missed, or slide one task to tomorrow. Full is real; failure is optional.

Work + boredom
And here’s one I’m working on right now with a client. Some work is just dull—forms, prep, email triage. The first wave is clean feeling: boredom—heavy eyes, restless hands, the “I’d rather do anything else” hum. If I let it be only that, I can move.

When I think, “I’m lazy… this is impossible… I can’t do it,” I generate a dirty feeling: discouragement/self-contempt. That’s thought-made drama because my brain wants a novelty ping. I don’t need a plot twist; I need a micro-move.

I use Label → Locate → Let 90. Label it “bored.” Locate it (eyes/hands). Let it be there for ~90 seconds while I do the smallest planned action—two minutes of email, one slide headline, one form field. Clean boredom stays boring; the task shrinks; and I prove I can move with a feeling present.

Loss + grief
And let’s wrap with a big one. When something ends or someone is gone, the first wave is clean feeling: sadness/grief—tight throat, heavy chest. The clean sentence is, “I miss them.”

The second wave is a prophecy: “I’ll never be okay again. I’ll never feel joy again.” That thought produces a dirty feeling: despair. Grief wants companionship and time; despair wants guarantees.

I use a bridge sentence my nervous system can believe: “This hurts, and people like me heal in waves.” Then I let the sadness move, ask for company when I need it, and gently question the “never” story when it shows up.
If this is you tonight: hand on chest, three slow exhales; text one friend; step outside for three breaths.

The throughline
In every story, the move is the same: feel the first feeling; question the second sentence.

- The clean feeling is the body’s honest response—process it in your body.

- The dirty feeling is a second wave generated by a thought—identify the thought and question it.

The more fluent you get at telling those waves apart, the faster you cut your suffering in half—and the easier it is to take one small step from a cleaner place.

ACTION

Okay—let’s take what we just talked about and actually do it together, right here.

Think of one real thing from today. Don’t curate it. The one sitting in your chest right now. Say the boring version out loud: “I’m tired and that’s disappointing.” Or, “The deck underperformed and I feel let down.” Or, “I wish I could be at both things.” That’s your clean line. Notice how it feels in your body—heavy in your limbs, a little tight at the collarbone, maybe a flutter behind your ribs. Put a hand where you feel it and give yourself one deep breath like you mean it.

Now listen for the second sentence your brain wants to tack on. It usually sounds absolute and personal: “And that means I’m lazy.” “I’m failing as a leader.” “I’m a bad mom.” Feel what those sentences create—shame, guilt, despair. That’s your dirty feeling, and it’s not coming from the situation; it’s coming from the sentence. Say this with me: “That’s a thought, not a fact.” We don’t process shame like it’s true—we question the sentence that made it.

Stay with the body. Name the clean feeling in one word—tired, disappointed, sad. Find it in one place—chest, throat, belly. Describe it like you would to a five-year-old: warm, tight, buzzy, heavy. And for the next ninety seconds, let it be there while you take one tiny step you already planned. Hit send on the invite. Write the first two lines. Text the two-sentence acknowledgment. Jot “what worked / what didn’t / what I’ll test.” This is the whole move: Label → Locate → Let 90—and move one inch from clean.

Before we leave the moment, add one line of care that keeps you in your lane: “If X happens, I’ll do Y.” If I wake under seventy percent capacity, I’ll cut scope and communicate timelines by three. If two things conflict, I’ll pick one and I won’t re-litigate the choice today. If the grief wave swells tonight, I’ll text a friend and step outside for three breaths. Check your scoreboard—jaw softer, shoulders lower? That counts. Reps over heroics.

CONCLUSION

Here’s what we just practiced: feel the first feeling; question the second sentence. The first feeling—clean pain—is your body’s honest data. The second sentence creates the second wave—dirty pain—and that’s the part you can drop. When you separate sensation from sentence, you cut your suffering in half. You stop spending hours managing shame and start spending energy on what matters: your work, your people, your life.

Do it once a day this week. One clean line, one dirty line, one tiny move from clean. Quiet reps compound. Your decisions get cleaner. Boundaries get simpler. Rooms get calmer. And you build a steadiness that doesn’t require perfect days to exist.

If you want live reps with your exact scenarios, that’s exactly what we do inside my 90-Day Mastermind for women leaders—six coaching workshops, a tight community, and real accountability until this becomes muscle memory. DM me for the link.

Next week, we’ll talk Unleashing Desire & Creativity—because once you’re not burning energy on shame, you finally have space to want again. Desire is the lightest fuel there is.