Sorry, Success Won’t Make You Confident

20 people had breakthroughs this week. Will the next one be you?

Two things for you to think about

Self-doubt doesn’t go away when you succeed. In fact, the higher the stakes get, the more doubt will continue to show up.

Confidence isn’t about removing all doubt. Confidence is knowing you’ll be all right if things go wrong.

Two things for you to ask yourself

What stakes are making you doubt yourself right now? What would doing it anyway look like?

One thing for you to try this week

Pick one thing you’ve been putting off because you doubt yourself, and do it this week. Reply and tell me how you felt after.

Last week’s breakthroughs

In last week’s newsletter, I reframed resentment as compound interest on the things you were too afraid to say, and asked you to have the conversation you’ve been avoiding.

Tracey learned what it means to stop shrinking herself to keep the peace:

I have experienced not one, but two outwardly ‘comfortable’ marriages. Basically, I shrunk myself to fit their needs and keep them happy. I tend to go with the flow in general, so in theory, it didn’t seem much of a stretch at the time to maintain that behavior.

Until I spoke up for myself and my needs in the relationship. Each partner seemed blindsided by me speaking up, and being young, emotionally immature, and lacking the tools needed to communicate effectively, I eventually shrunk more to maintain the peace. The comfort was performative, and it certainly wasn’t mutual.

I left the pattern. I did the work and the therapy. The facing the demons and making peace with the whole of me, work.

Now I am in a relationship with an amazing man who gets uncomfortable with me when needed. Sometimes we both know we need to address something, brace for impact, and put it out there – before it festers. Sometimes we both react poorly to the subject of discussion, as humans will occasionally do.

To date, we have always come back to each other with a stronger connection. This is a vastly different relationship dynamic for me (for both of us, honestly) than I have ever experienced. We have both come to accept that having a difficult conversation from a place of love is a worthwhile endeavor. A temporary discomfort, to grow a stronger bond. Now, we both embrace the uncomfortable with the knowledge that it will most likely end up healing us in ways we never expected.

For Marianne, it was a question she almost didn’t ask:

For a while now my relationship with my partner has felt rocky. Our happiness levels seem to fluctuate considerably day to day. I’ve been using Purpose to help with my resilience, and ability to challenge things with him that aren’t sitting well with me.

We always talked about having more than one child, and my partner told me he was ready when I was. Our son recently turned 2, and when medical circumstances meant I had to stop my contraception, we half talked about just seeing what happens. Imagine my surprise and disappointment when he bought other protection.

I was stewing on this, confused and upset for about a week, trying to find the right time to ask him if he still wanted another baby. We went away this weekend, just the two of us, for the first time since our son was born, and somehow without too much pre-planning, I asked him if I could ask him a question. It turns out of course he still wants another child – just not right now. He has some stuff to sort out for his father who recently passed away. Understandably he doesn’t want to be sorting that while looking after a hormonal, emotional pregnant lady, a two year old, our two dogs and two cats.

We understand each other now, and all it took was that ‘uncomfortable’ conversation. Conversations and situations are rarely as bad as I expect them to be in my head. I’d do well to remember that more.

Mandy found something she didn’t expect on the other side:

This week’s email resonated because my husband and I had our uncomfortable conversation last weekend.

He told me that he struggles with what feels like my disinterest. My first reaction was to get defensive. He shut down because he was hurt, and suddenly there was no conversation left to have. Sitting alone with my thoughts, I stumbled onto an ugly truth: I wasn’t disinterested. I was jealous.

I admire his curiosity and enthusiasm, but they also confront me with the parts of myself I’ve neglected. Instead of facing that discomfort, I’d been shutting his enthusiasm down.

When I admitted that to him later that evening, everything changed. We both felt more connected, and the jealousy seemed to lose its grip.

Your newsletter didn’t start that conversation, but it reminded me why conversations like these matter, and why I don’t want to avoid them anymore.

Thanks for the nudge to keep choosing honesty over comfort.

As always, send your breakthroughs by simply replying to this email. Let me know if you’d prefer to remain anonymous.

Until next week,

Mark Manson

#1 New York Times Bestselling Author
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