I had that uneasy feeling.
You know the one — that knot in your stomach when you’re questioning a decision.
I finally carved out time to review my email list.
Opens.
Clicks.
The dreaded (yet inevitable) unsubscribes.
As I scrolled, I caught myself fixating on who actually read my story.
Clients
Friends and family.
Strangers who might become clients one day.
That’s when the uneasy feeling hit.
Did I make a mistake by sharing how my recovery shapes my work?
Shame, regret, and worry crept in — all tied to what others might think.
It would’ve been easier to share a client win or, frankly, anything else.
That pit in my stomach was my brain firing off a fear signal about possible negative consequences.
But as I sat with it, I realized something important:
I had the chance to practice what I preach.
Sharing that story was a calculated risk.
I constantly ask young athletes to do hard things, face discomfort, and move forward in the moment — without clinging to what they can’t control.
Now it was my turn.
I had to reset myself when I started obsessing over results.
I had to reframe the “what ifs” before I spiraled.
From:
What if someone unsubscribes?
What if I damage my credibility?
What if someone doesn’t like me?
To:
What if readers trust me more now?
What if my story helps someone who’s struggling?
What if being myself is good enough?
Those same “what ifs” show up for young athletes when they make mistakes.
They think:
What if my coach takes me out?
What if my parents criticize me?
What if I’m not good enough?
I help them shift to:
What if my coach likes my aggressiveness?
What if no one cares but me?
What if I get it on the next try?
That’s the work — becoming aware of unproductive thoughts, accepting them, and moving forward knowing the next play matters most.
I learned that lesson myself doing a simple, yet important task.
I ran the play.
I reset.
I settled the noise in my head — and the feeling in my gut.
Remembering that I’m human, just like my athletes, helps me connect with them more deeply.
It reminds me that the best solutions come when we see the game through their eyes.
The verdict?
I’m glad I sent that story after all.
Bonus: No one unsubscribed (yet).
If it happens, I’m ready to respond.
***
The uneasy feeling I felt from this experience was my chance to practice the same mindset shifts I ask of my athletes every day — awareness, acceptance, and action.
Because that’s the real work: moving from “What if I fail?” to “What if I grow from this?”
If you want to see how I use that same idea in my work with athletes, check out this post:
It’s a look at how one simple question — “What if?” — can shift a young athlete’s mindset from fear to opportunity.