Welcome, dear reader! See, some of the beliefs we hold about ourselves make life smaller or more difficult than it is. They influence what we attempt, how we respond to difficulty, and how much we allow ourselves to enjoy. Stoicism, which is all about flourishing, asks us to examine these judgments and stories we tell ourselves. These are the six I’ve had to reconsider. If you missed the last edition on How to Trick Your Brain Into Doing Difficult Things, you can catch up right here.
“For it is impossible for a man to begin to learn that which he thinks that he knows.”
— Epictetus, Discourses 2.17
Over the course of my life, I’ve had to reconsider several things I believed about myself. Some of these defective beliefs came from home, school, and the people around me. Others grew out of experiences I interpreted too narrowly. They influenced what I thought I could learn, how much difficulty I could handle, and what I expected from people.
I’ve gotten to change these beliefs over time, through reading, practice, relationships, and throwing myself into canonical events. While sometimes I had to act on a more generous idea of myself before I had much evidence for it. Then, through showing up and getting better, I began to believe I could do the things I had wished I could do.
That gradually made my life bolder, more enjoyable, and open to possibilities I had once found intimidating.
Belief 1. “I’m smart enough to get this on the first try.”
I used to get frustrated and disappointed when I didn’t understand something immediately. I would dismiss it, decide I wasn’t suited to it, or feel too embarrassed to continue.
This limited the scope of my involvement in life and the number of cool skills I could acquire. Every unfamiliar activity came with the possibility of discovering I was terrible at it, and I took that discovery far too seriously that sometimes I never tried at all.
Then I’d watch someone who seemed like a natural and feel envious. How did they make it look so easy?
When I started looking into how people became as good as I saw them, I began to appreciate the unseen hard work. There were years of consistent practice behind abilities I had expected myself to demonstrate immediately. My impatience had made the learning process feel humiliating. I was clearly not being a good friend to myself.
Learning to swim as an adult exposed this belief.
I used to panic in the water. Watching other people float around and enjoy themselves was impressive, but I couldn’t imagine myself feeling that comfortable.
I wanted to have that experience too, so I started taking lessons.
At first, there was plenty to struggle with. But I kept practicing. And after about seven lessons, I found myself holding my breath for longer and moving through the water casually, doing something that had frightened me, and I was in so much awe of myself that I could hardly believe it.
I’d been missing out on this.
This brought to mind an idea from Marcus Aurelius where he reminded himself that the left hand, awkward at many tasks, could hold the reins more firmly than the right because it had practised doing so. There was an ability hidden inside something he could easily have dismissed as inept.
Nowadays, I approach unfamiliar things knowing I’ll probably suck for a bit. But if I focus, desire to do my best, accept correction, and keep showing up, I give myself a chance to become good.
I may never run like Eliud Kipchoge or swim like Michael Phelps. But I can still become a better runner, a better swimmer and enjoy such enlivening experiences. Besides, there’s so much pleasure in the act of doing before we become exceptional.
Belief 2. “Emotions mean everything”
Of course, accepting that something takes practice leaves us with the responsibility of actually practising.
I used to show up depending on how I felt. When I was excited, I would do everything dedicated to my goal. If I felt even a bit off, I could come up with all kinds of excuses to make sure I didn’t do the thing.
I then became inconsistent and somewhat anxious where I knew what I wanted to accomplish, but I kept breaking the agreements I made with myself. Each abandoned intention gave me another reason to doubt whether I could follow through. My self esteem was in the gutters.
Putting myself through difficult experiences helped me discover how much choice I still had available within an uncomfortable state of mind. I could feel reluctant, overwhelmed, or afraid and still decide how to respond- do the thing. Sometimes my feelings got better once I got going. Other times I had to carry them through the work. But I knew they weren’t the final say.
One night at the hospital, the emergencies kept coming, and I was the doctor on call.
I was exhausted. Every possibility of getting some rest disappeared with another patient who needed my attention. And as the work accumulated, I began to worry that I couldn’t handle everything the night was asking of me.
I told myself I wouldn’t complain. Then I told myself I would handle one thing at a time.
That’s what I did until morning came.
What surprised me was how gracefully I could carry a heavy workload. Giving my attention to the patient, the priority problem in front of me- made the shift manageable. And as I continued, my confidence grew. I could do this. I was already doing it.
This seems easy until you’re fighting against a mind that feels like it’s your enemy.
A bleak feeling can make an ordinary commitment seem torturous. We start imagining how long the discomfort will last, how much effort everything still requires, and whether life will always feel like an uphill struggle. Soon, we’re trying to endure the next several years inside one difficult afternoon.
I still catch myself doing this. What helps is returning to the thing right here, right now. Following through builds trust in myself. I learn that I can experience resistance and still move ahead.
Feelings still deserve attention. Exhaustion, grief, and pain can tell us something we need to address. But I had been treating ordinary reluctance and normal feelings as sufficient grounds to abandon things I wanted. Giving my emotions less authority made room for a more expansive life.
Belief 3. “The way I talk to myself doesn’t matter.”
Part of learning to keep going involved paying attention to…