When Becoming Feels Like Danger

Sometimes courage isn't feeling ready. It's teaching your nervous system that it's safe to grow.

I wish I could tell you that after my first Coaching Conversation on radio, I woke up feeling confident.

I didn't.

I woke up tired, with a nervous system that was still trying to figure out what on earth had just happened.

The funny thing about growth is that we often imagine it will feel exciting.

Sometimes it does.

But sometimes it feels like a knot in your stomach, a restless night, a racing mind, and every part of you wondering whether you should quietly back out.

That's exactly where I found myself this week.

As a coach, I know that our nervous system isn't trying to stop us from growing - it is trying to keep us safe.

The challenge is that it doesn't always know the difference between danger and something new.

To the nervous system...

Growth can feel like danger.

On Wednesday, I hosted my very first Coaching Conversation on radio.

From the outside, it probably sounded like an ordinary conversation.

What no one could hear was the conversation happening inside me.

"What if I forget what to say?"

"What if I don't sound like a radio presenter?"

"What if I'm not good enough?"

My stomach was in knots.

My REM sleep almost disappeared.

I wanted certainty before stepping behind the microphone.

But certainty never came.

So I chose courage instead.

I kept reminding myself:

"You're not trying to become a radio presenter.

You're a coach.

This is simply another place where coaching gets to happen."

That one reframe changed everything.

I've spent years helping people understand what I now call the Hidden Score™ - the invisible gap between what life asks of us and the internal capacity we have available to meet those demands.

Last week, I had to coach myself through my own Hidden Score.

I breathed.

I rehearsed... over and over again.

I pictured myself sitting behind the microphone before I ever got there.

I asked friends to cheer me on.

I allowed myself to receive encouragement instead of pretending I had everything together.

And then something beautiful happened.

The fear didn't disappear.

I simply stopped waiting for it to.

Sometimes becoming isn't about feeling ready.

Sometimes becoming is about staying in the room long enough for your nervous system to whisper,

"We've been here before... we're safe now."

As I prepare for my second Coaching Conversation this week, my nervous system is still shouting, "Danger!"

It still asks,

"What if you have nothing to say?"

"Will people find it helpful?"

"Will it make sense?"

The questions haven't disappeared.

But neither has my purpose.

So once again, I'll show up.

Not because I feel ready.

But because I believe in what I have been called to do.

My hope isn't to be perfect.

It isn't to sound like a seasoned radio presenter.

My hope is simply...

To do me.

To coach.

To ask curious questions.

To teach.

To laugh.

To pause.

To reflect.

If people return every Wednesday because they leave feeling seen, encouraged or challenged to think differently, then I've done what I came to do.

Resilience isn't built in the absence of fear.

It's built by collecting evidence.

Evidence that says,

"I've done hard things before."

"I can do this too."

Maybe that's your invitation this week.

Don't wait until you feel fearless.

Show up with intention.

Your nervous system will learn what your heart already knows.

Sometimes the place that feels unfamiliar today becomes the place that feels like home tomorrow.

And maybe that's what becoming has always looked like.

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One final confession...

I couldn't help but laugh afterwards.

I opened my very first Coaching Conversation with, "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen..."

Then I realised... I wasn't standing on a conference stage.

I was sitting behind a radio microphone.

Old habits have a funny way of reminding us where we've been.

I guess years of public speaking have trained my brain to look for an audience I can see.

Now it's learning to speak to an audience I can't.

I'm sure there will be many more little bloopers along the way.

And honestly... I hope there are.

Because every one of them is evidence that I'm stretching into something new.

Perfection isn't the goal.

Presence is.

And if you happen to catch one of my little "speaker moments" on air over the next few weeks... just smile with me.

We're both witnessing what becoming sounds like.