Talk to anyone long enough about fear, and you’ll find that fear is surprisingly…predictable. It shows up in the same 3-5 ways, depending on the context, circumstances, or person you’re interacting with and the internal narratives you carry about what those things mean for you and your life.
This is the good news. The more fear is predictable, the more it means that you can learn how to use your fear, instead of letting it use you.
Let me illustrate with a story: at the beginning of 2013, life took an unexpected turn (I’ll be writing more about that, finally, over the next few weeks). I’d made some great plans, yet life was throwing me a curveball: plans. not. happening.
That meant that at the beginning of 2013, I was not just dealing with a sense of loss and grief and disappointment (not to mention, at times, anger and furiousness at the perceived unfairness of it all) and at the same time, I was re-evaluating this timeline I’d played with in the back of my mind.
So Here’s What Happened, Next
There are gifts in re-evaluation. Doing so makes you think outside the box, and notice those places where you’re on auto-pilot without even realizing it. I was completely happy with everything I’d been up to in my life, but also dealing with this pesky grief/disappointment thing and trying to figure out how these changed circumstances were going to fit into the overall picture of every plan I’d made for myself.
This is an opportune time to start making ruthlessly honest “Here’s what I truly want, and here’s what I’m sick of allowing into my life” lists.
(If you’re not already a YCL e-letter subscriber, hop on–my free Shift Plan is available to all subscribers, and it’s pretty helpful with making a “no-holds barred, get really honest and true about my life” list of bold plans).
What emerged as I was making my list was this: that there was this way in which I was straddling the worlds of personal growth and business that didn’t feel altogether like quite the right fit, and that I wanted to merge the two.
Also, I kept really wanting to talk about the process of life coaching, making transparent what can sometimes seem hidden about the skill-set, itself.
Also, I was noticing that 90% or so of the issues that life coaches were coming to me with when we had a Blueprint Session were things that, frankly, their coaching training programs could have given them with more of a grounded foundation. Lacking confidence. Feeling uncertain about what to charge. Getting zero marketing help. Fighting with the very same personal issues they’re trying to help clients with and then feeling ill-equipped.
These are things that so many life coaches are struggling with, and while every coach will struggle with that to some degree, it hit me that what I really wanted to do–the place I really wanted to take my work, next–was to merge the worlds of personal growth and business.
In essence, I wanted to create a training program for life coaches–one that wasn’t about teaching the “right” and “wrong” way to be a life coach, but one that used your personal journey and growth as the basis for how you help others; one that integrated some kick-ass marketing training (hello, Blueprint Circles); one that had people working within mastermind groups from the get-go, so that they weren’t leaving training with no network or tribe.
The Same Old Voices
So, back to predictable fear. Your fearful voices might be different than mine, but again–typically, fear is going to say the same variation on just 3-5 things, every single time it comes up.
When I realized I wanted to create a training program for life coaches, here were my internal voices:
“Who do you think you are?”
“What will people think?”
“What if absolutely no one cares?” (I also call this voice, the “What if no one comes to my party?” fear).
“What if you fail?”
My fear also has this one other hat trick–it’ll get suddenly go “whatever” about an idea, and the message shifts to, “You know, that’s a lot of work, and it’s not really all that interesting, so, you know, whatever.”
Take a moment to think of the last three times that you really wanted something, but hesitated to go after it. Can you see any ways in which the fear was basically the same, each time?
Use Your Fear
When I hear “Who do you think you are?” of course it’s scary. It’s also my sign that this is absolutely, to the core of my being, where I should be going, next.
When I hear “What will people think?” then I know that I’m craving acceptance and fearing rejection.
When I hear “What if no one cares?” then I know that my work is to remember that I care, and to focus more on the excitement and passion I have for the idea, than on a future-projected fear that others won’t share it.
When I hear “What if you fail?” then I know, again, that whatever I’m afraid of failing at must be something that I really, really need to do–because for some reason, fear is trying to distract me by focusing on a failure that hasn’t even happened, yet.
The point is, your fears are not coincidental. These voices come up for a reason. It’s true that it might not always be the right timing, or that you do need more knowledge or expertise, or that others might laugh you off the stage.
It might be true that you need help or more resources or that it feels scary, but none of those fears are the point.
If you use your fear–seeing these voices as signs that something is very, very important and thus very worthy, then the fear can stop using you. It can just be there, saying what it says, while you acknowledge the truth that yes, it’s scary–but you’re still the one in the driver’s seat.
In other words, you can still choose what your heart desires.
The Courageous Coaching Training Program
Fast-forward nearly a year later, and…wow. I’ve spent the past year researching standards within the industry, talking to a lot of life coaches from all different walks of life, developing curriculum, and finally–this past fall–I started accepting applications.
People, let me tell you: the world is not going to hell in a handbasket the way so many people think it is. Reading these applications from potential life coaches, hearing about the dreams and aspirations and sincere desires to serve and help and lift others up…sometimes I’d get teary, reading them.
Never, ever forget that for as bad as things may seem on the news, there are a lot of amazing people out there who sincerely want to do good.
I feel like the luckiest person on the planet because I’ll be working with some of them starting this weekend, as part of the Courageous Coaching Training Program.
The program is completely closed for 2014, but in the spring of this year, I’ll be contacting anyone who opts-in to the program newsletter with early-bird application information, an offer of a substantial early-registration discount, and more. Head to:
Here’s how this process usually goes (and if what I’m about to describe sounds like you, and hasn’t really worked for you, then you definitely want to read this piece a few times):
- Someone realizes that they don’t feel like they are “enough.” (This can be “I don’t deserve” or “I’m not worthy” or “I don’t matter,” as well).
- They embark on self-help. They try to understand shame and worthiness issues. They might dissect where the messages that they are not enough, came from (the media? Parents? A particularly exacting teacher?).
- They work with a kind, compassionate, and caring coach or counselor or therapist or go to some workshops or repeat affirmations or make some vision boards: I AM ENOUGH.
- They are often encouraged to find the evidence that they are enough–to think of all the reasons why they are a good, kind person who is deserving of love.
- Every time the “not enough” voice comes up, the work is–or so they say–to remind yourself that YOU. ARE. ENOUGH.
This might seem like a logical approach. If you are thirsty, you’d try to alleviate the thirst with something to drink. So–if you feel like you’re not enough, it’s time to fill yourself with the messages that you are enough, right?
Interestingly, this isn’t what I’ve found to be the most helpful approach.
The Logical Fallacies of “I’m Not Enough”
The first logical fallacy: Let’s start with the very message of “I’m Not Enough.”
I love doing “I don’t feel like enough” work with coaching clients. I ask one simple yet complex question, which I’ll also ask you to consider, here:
How would you define “enough”?
Most people think they have a really solid definition. You can probably list a lot of ideas: “I’d be enough if I…didn’t snap at my kids, made more money, lost X number of pounds, actually committed deeply to my spiritual practice, stopped procrastinating…”
But then we start to deconstruct it. Can you really know that any of those things are “enough”? And where are the parameters? If someone makes plenty of money and is the “perfect” weight and is deeply committed to her spiritual practice and never procrastinates, how do you know for sure that she is “enough”? And what if she does all of those things–but–she snaps at her kids? Is she then “not enough”? Does the balance sheet suddenly tip because she does this one thing wrong? Oh–it depends on “how much” she snaps at her kids? What if she has a massive rage-fest, one time a year, and she’s a perfect mother every other day of the year? What then?
I’m sure you see the point I’m getting at–that this “enough” idea is essentially undefinable. It’s a slippery-slope. The boundaries are loose and impermeable and this is exactly how we all use this to, well, completely mind-fuck ourselves away from being loving, kind, or compassionate towards ourselves and others.
(Note: if we set up standards of “enough-ness” for ourselves, we’re doing it for others, too. Hello, conditional love.)
The next logical fallacy: Understanding where the “not enough” came from, who taught us this idea in the first place, is the antidote to alleviating it.
This one is only partially true. It’s only helpful if you’re going to use that understanding to see, in a compassionate way, the pain that the message-bearer was in when they imprinted their criticism and hurt onto you.
Unfortunately, I see that a lot of well-intentioned coaches, therapists, workshop leaders, etc., will then encourage their clients to tell that person to “Fuck off” in an angry letter that they’ll never send, or they’ll find all the ways in which the early message-bearer was a screw-up and thus can’t be trusted, or they’ll instruct their clients to “not listen” to that voice, or even to tell that voice to “Shut up!” every time they hear it.
Why doesn’t that “work”? Because hatred is hatred, folks. If you’re externalizing it and heaping the blame and criticism right back onto the person who first told you you weren’t “enough,” or hurling expletives at that voice, you’re just spinning the same wheel that you’ll eventually turn back onto yourself.
The third logical fallacy: That finding evidence of enough-ness by listing good qualities, or repeatedly affirming your enough-ness (“I am enough; I am enough”), will be the antidote to feeling like you’re not enough.
This is a logical fallacy because it pre-supposes that the “enough” is not already sitting right there–that it needs to be found, fortified, or repeatedly acknowledged, in order to exist.
In other words, it’s like standing with your back to a buffet of food, refusing to acknowledge that the buffet is there, being quite hungry, and saying, “I HAVE FOOD. I HAVE FOOD” over and over, in the hopes that the food will come because you keep repeating that you have it.
If you’d only stop assuming that the food isn’t there in the first place, you’d see that there’s this buffet that you’re totally ignoring. It’s not intentional ignoring. It’s not that you aren’t working hard enough to see the food, and need to work harder to believe that the food exists.
The food is right there. Fact. Done. Period. You’ve got to stop assuming the food is not there, if you want to see that the food already exists.
You’ve got to stop desperately trying to find the proof of being enough–that in and of itself carries the implicit assumption that you aren’t enough, that being enough is hard to find and feel, or that it needs justification or fortification in order to last.
The Truth About Enough
You don’t need to find your enough-ness. You don’t need to assert it more often, in order to conjure it into being. You don’t need to go back and get angry at the people who are wounded JUST like you are, in probably almost the EXACT same ways, in the hopes that angry catharsis will purge you of your pain (if that really worked, their criticisms and anger directed at you would have healed them, after all).
What you actually need is to question the voice. Question definitions of “enough” (or deserving, worthiness, or “mattering” to others). As you question, listen carefully to what the voice is saying.
Start to ask yourself why this voice would say this. What wound might prompt a voice to say such a thing–that you aren’t enough, aren’t deserving, or don’t matter?
That’s where you’ll find the help you’re looking for–within the voice that sounds so angry, but that is actually so wounded and so desperate for help that it’s going to start screaming, if it has to. If you’re desperate for water, your behavior will get more desperate. The hungrier you are, the more irritable you are. When you’re emotionally starving, the needs of those emotions, demanding nourishment, also get more extreme.
That’s where you’ll start to discover that this voice that tells you that you aren’t enough…might just be an addiction. It literally might be this thing that you turn to, to avoid taking risks, as a means of self-sabotage and playing victim. You might realize with startling clarity that you don’t actually, truly, honestly believe you “aren’t enough,” and that you just like to tell yourself this so that you don’t have to really put yourself out there (in career, in relationships, in lots of places).
It’s through listening to the voice, not trying to drown it out with affirmations, that you learn this valuable information and can then give less weight to the message–next time it comes up, you might take a breath and say to yourself, “Ah, yes. I totally see how I’m turning to that old message, again.”
This voice that tells you that you aren’t enough…might be defending against a pre-conceived idea that its needs won’t be met from the get-go. Sadness over “not being enough” feels familiar and less vulnerable than actually asking your husband to please hold you for a few minutes, or telling a friend that you are terrified of completely irrational things.
It’s through listening to the voice, not spending time getting angry at whomever first told you that you weren’t enough, that you’ll learn this valuable information and can get to the important business of meeting needs. You might take deep breaths and muster up the courage to say, “I’m going to ask my husband to hold me for a few minutes. If he says no, I’m calling a friend. I’m going to find someone to hold me for a few minutes, even if I feel completely ridiculous.” Or perhaps you’ll say to yourself, “It’s time to tell my best friend that I get anxious about these things that I know aren’t really serious.”
This voice that tells you that you aren’t enough…might be trying to keep you from making more mistakes, and thus it’s actually confused. This “not enough” voice might think that if you tell yourself you’re not enough, or don’t matter, or don’t “deserve” something, that this will be the punishment that protects you from making more mistakes.
The voice might not realize that actually, what would really help when you make mistakes is forgiveness. The voice might have also been taught that forgiveness is for wimps and chumps who let people take advantage of them; forgiveness is the same as pretending something didn’t happen; forgiveness means that what abuses did happen are somehow okay.
It’s through listening to this voice, not hoping and praying that you’ll finally figure out the “not enough” equation, that you might realize: “Holy shit. No one ever taught me about forgiveness, in my family. People were mad at you until the storm passed, and if I made a mistake, I had to eat shit until they stopped being mad, which is not actually ‘forgiveness.’ If I learn how to actually forgive–what that process looks like–I’ll have another option for recognizing that when I make mistakes, there’s another way to try not to repeat them, other than beating up on myself.”
It’s listening to the voice–not rejecting it, making it bad or wrong, or trying to sprinkle affirmation fairy dust on it until it goes away–that gives you this incredibly insightful information. Then you might say to yourself, “I have always felt like forgiveness is like saying that when I did something wrong, that’s okay. I’ve never considered that that might not be true. Let me look at that.”
You might start looking at everyone’s mistakes, and say to yourself, “Wow–every time they make mistakes, they’re actually not waking up in the morning to screw up my day. I don’t need to judge them until they do it better, either. Whether or not I forgive them has zero effect on whether or not they’ll make mistakes, because we all make mistakes.”
Next time you ask yourself what it is that you struggle with, don’t say that your primary issue is “feeling like you aren’t enough.”
Say that your primary issue is struggling with listening to the voice and resisting the temptation to reject it or ignore it (you and me both, sister–this is an ongoing journey).
Next time you’re tempted to go into “not enough” or any messages that are close-cousins, here’s one simple mantra that can replace those forced affirmations: “I’ll discover something, if I listen closely without attachment.”
Or here are two questions to ask yourself: “What are my definitions of ‘enough’? Can I really know that this is an absolute definition of ‘enough’?”
Spend less time searching for the enough-ness (trust me; the buffet table is right there).
Spend more time noticing and deconstructing the stuff that sits in the way when you’re ready to pull up a chair and feast.
Someone asked me, recently, about my take on New Year’s Resolutions–being a life coach, and all. Did I think they were helpful, for people? Pointless? Annoying?
My answer: I think New Year’s Resolutions are like anything else in life. Your experience of it is all how you relate to it. (And, by the way, we could be talking about whether to set goals or not set goals; whether to own a day-planner or not to own a day-planner; whether to have quarterly objectives or not to have quarterly objectives, etc.)
Every year, around this time, there’s a rash of articles on NYRs–here’s how you make them and keep them; a little tough love around keeping them; why it’s so helpful to keep them; the proof that they can work; the proof that they don’t work; NYRs are awful and you shouldn’t do them; here’s my rebellious stance on not making them and why I’ll never make them, again.
Truth? It’s all how you relate to whatever it is that you’ve got your attention focused on. People who enjoy making NYRs enjoy setting goals and following through. People who don’t care to make NYRs, just don’t feel called to make them.
And people who are passionately against them? If we just cut to honesty: clearly, there’s a trigger there.
Can’tcha smell it? That passionate rejection can carry just the wee-est (if that’s a word) hint of insecurity about, ahem, not following through on things. Perhaps the slightest little soupçon of judgment permeates their souls when they don’t follow through (again, another year, again, another year) on a resolution.
Or, even–a major shame attack (because it’s another year, again, another year, again, another year, again, and they’re perpetually saying they’re going to do stuff, and then not doing what they say they’ll do).
That place of self-criticism is a hard, hard place to sit with.
So, the answer often becomes to push it to the external: Damn those New Year’s Resolutions! They are the problem! I’m not taking it any more! I won’t subject myself to that, anymore!
Be the Steward
The thing is, this isn’t about what’s external to you. It’s internal. Your experience of anything is all about how you relate to something. You are not “subjected to” New Year’s Resolutions. You are the steward of your life, not the intangible NYR. You’re choosing how you use them.
If you use NYRs (or goal-setting, accountability, day-planners, organization kits, The Desire Map, a life coach, so-and-so’s 3 step plan, a workshop, a guru’s teachings, etc.) to beat yourself up and make yourself wrong for those times when you don’t follow-through or don’t see the results that you want, you’re going to have a miserable experience.
If you use NYRs as a practical means to an end, and you create the experience of setting them and following through as a positive addition to your life, you’re going to have a good experience.
For example: Gretchen Rubin’s The Happiness Project was an entire process of understanding what made her happy as an end-goal, focusing on a specific aspect of happiness each month, charting it and tracking her progress, noticing the places where she needed to change up what she was doing…and it made her happier.
If she had treated it as a chore; if she had had a field day of criticism when things didn’t go as she’d hoped; if she had not been accountable about charting her progress and then turned on herself for not being accountable…surely, it would have been miserable.
Again, this is about being the steward of your own life. This is about deciding what narratives you’ll choose to take away from any experience. This is about taking personal responsibility for one’s own insecurity or sadness for any time that you didn’t follow-through in the past–without the critical bashing, without the shaming, and without making yourself “bad” for whatever behavior you chose.
What You Truly Want
In other words, if we all looked at the things that were triggers for us (like New Year’s Resolutions, not to mention people we don’t like, jobs we hate, etc.) and decided to examine why we were so triggered, why there was such a passionate need for outright rejection, and especially if we searched ourselves for any statements that put the “fault” for our feelings on something “out there,” like an arbitrary old New Year’s Resolution…we’d get much clearer.
Perhaps we’d all even get much clearer on what we truly want, because I’m guessing what we all want beyond NYRs like “lost 10 pounds” or “write a novel,” are things like…Love for ourselves. Acceptance. The ability to reconcile our behavior without self-hatred. The capacity to deal with and work through our own insecurity. Happiness. Peace. Choices that reflect what we truly desire and that honor how we want to feel in our day-to-day.
The rejection, the trigger, the lining up of a position to fight against something, just places another layer between you and what you actually desire.
A willingness to look at the (admittedly intense) feelings of “I don’t like that!” and “That’s where the fault lies!” and “I’m sick of this!” permeates that layer.
So perhaps there’s just one New Year’s Resolution that we could all make that would significantly better our lives–commit to looking at everything that you fiercely reject, not with the aim of somehow mindlessly affirming your way to liking it, but so that you clearly understand the real, underlying motives of why you so fiercely reject it.
Resolve to bring more awareness into your heart. That’s a resolution that betters not just you, but the entire world. That’s the kind of resolution that will give, and give, and give–as long as that’s how you choose to relate to it, of course.