I was meeting with a client recently to discuss a new workflow when the start of a familiar solution started to come to mind, but I couldn’t quite name it. It felt like a solution on the “tip of my brain”—I could sense it well enough to allude to it, but couldn’t yet articulate it. I needed to draw it out, but I was certain it was right there.

Yet days passed and I found myself actively avoiding that very task I’d been excited about. When I finally confronted this contradiction, I recognized fear at its source:

I was scared that when I finally tried to express the idea, I’d discover I didn’t have what it takes. So I kept postponing the moment of truth.

Have you ever worried you won’t have enough of what’s needed? Enough time, energy, clarity, resources—or even knowing what “enough” means? This scarcity mindset likes to surface in my home office, where my harshest critic often has no competition.

My reliable escape from this self-induced funk is simple: trusted friends who confront my inner critic. These people become accurate mirrors, reflecting back a clearer image than the distorted one my isolated mind creates. A vulnerable admission—”I’m afraid I won’t have what it takes”—creates space to see myself differently.

For me, this admission and receipt of a more-accurate reflection cleared enough doubt to finally sit down and draw that solution (which turned out to be just as I had felt those many days before).

I need these external truth-tellers because thoughts aren’t facts, especially those we think about ourselves. I wish I could say that knowing this allows me to avoid it every time, but it doesn’t, it only gives me a chance at remembering and seeking those external sources for help.

Thanks for reading,