The Price of Growth – Facing the Unfamiliar with Courage

This last week, my relationship with the new and unfamiliar changed – I think forever.

Like many of us, I spent years interpreting my doubt and fear as signs of inadequacy. If I felt too nervous, unprepared, or unsure, I assumed I wasn't good enough. That the opportunity or ideas wasn't meant for me.

And I know I'm not alone.

A client recently shared his concern about stepping into something new, feeling a surge of vulnerability that screamed at him to be cautious and to remember that one time it went disastrously. He was literally brought to tears, his nervous system in full survival mode.

My husband and I were just joking the other day at how many great ideas we have set aside for a rainy day that later showed up in a TV show, movie, or commercial. Not because anyone else was smarter or more capable than we were, but simply because they chose to try. (Cue Liz Gilbert's Big Magic)

And I can't help but think of a conversation last year with a former colleague, who was frustrated that a new sales strategy he'd been working on for months had been announced by a competitor...just a week before he was scheduled to present it to leadership.

"I just wanted it to be perfect...but now it will look like I was copying them."

More often than not, we keep ourselves tucked behind the curtain of the familiar, convinced that we are safer there. Not quite ready to expose ourselves to the feedback, the criticism – to the vulnerability.

But choosing safe rarely protects us from obstacles, difficulties, or suffering.

And safety is not the same as satisfied: a lesson I've been learning (and relearning) for most of my life.

When Different Felt Dangerous

Growing up a flamboyant kid in rural, farming country wasn’t easy. Not to mention that my dad was a Baptist pastor, and my four older siblings were all naturally athletic.

They played sports; I played house. They learned to hunt; I learned to bake. They loved to wrestle; I loved to read.

One of my earliest memories is of my dad interrupting my solo afternoon of imaginative adventures...with my stuffed animals. He burst into the room to ask, “What are you doing in here on your own?” When I nervously replied, “Just playing,” he scoffed. “Go outside and play with your brothers.”

Looking back now, I can see the panic behind the push. I was clearly different – and in the late 90s, with the AIDS epidemic still fresh in the public consciousness, my difference very likely felt dangerous to my parents. 

Despite their best attempts, sports didn’t actually help. I was awful at all of them – except running. Perhaps I was running so hard from my sexuality, it most easily translated into the real world.

But the rest? A disaster. If it required hand-eye coordination...or really any form of coordination, I was done for. And in rural America, if you’re a boy who isn’t good at sports, "gay" and "f*ggot" aren't far behind. 

When those labels hit close to home, they're not funny – they're terrifying. And they taught me that being seen as different could be unsafe. 

So I started avoiding anything unfamiliar, anything that might give others ammunition to say, “You don’t belong.” 

And every time my nervous system signaled, “We’ve never done this before,” I heard, “You can’t do this. People are watching you. You’re going to fail.”

But here’s what I know now: that response wasn’t shame. It was just biology.

The Biology of Courage

Our brains are wired to detect danger – and newness often registers as just that, especially when we are already stressed.

Whenever we encounter something unfamiliar, our amygdala steps up to the plate. We get a surge of cortisol, a spike in heart rate, and a chorus of internal alarms warning us to be cautious.

Not because we are broken. Because we are human, and without this response, we'd often end up in dangerous or even deadly situations.

Dr. Lisa Feldman Barrett, neuroscientist at Northeastern University, explains that our brains are "prediction machines," constantly drawing from past experiences to forecast outcomes. So whenever we face something new, the brain flags it as risky – even when we have prepared.

But here's the fun twist: we can retrain that response to be less dramatic.

By knowingly and intentionally stepping into the new and unfamiliar again and again, we create new neural pathways for the future. As a result, we literally teach our brain that unfamiliar doesn't always mean unsafe – it's simply unfamiliar...for now.

Rewriting the Script

Over the last year, I have been taking on more new and unfamiliar opportunities than I ever could have imagined as a kid.

I left my job in corporate HR to start my own company. I got a certificate in the foundations of positive psychology, completed a coaching certification program, and started a mindfulness coaching program. I began writing, coaching, consulting, and designing self-help resources.

This last week alone, I joined my first SHRM Pathways & Perspectives panel to provide insights and guidance to new, prospective, and established HR professionals. I also facilitated my largest corporate training to 60+ managers on resilient leadership.

But this time, I didn't shrink. I stretched.

Because over the years – through coaching, therapy, and a whole lot of journaling – I've learned not to confuse nervousness with inadequacy. I've learned to recognize my body's natural response, and to choose the courage to move forward anyway.

And what hit me as I was wrapping up Wednesday's facilitation? These are no longer – and will never again be – new or unfamiliar.

By choosing to courageously face these opportunities, I have experienced them, and I have grown.

And that growth is worth every shaky breath, bead of sweat, and skipped heartbeat experienced in the process.

Final Thoughts

If you're feeling the pull toward something new or unfamiliar this week – be it a new role or strategy, a tough conversation, or even a personal project you've been putting off indefinitely – please choose the courage to say "yes."

Doubts and fear do not mean you must stop, shy away, or find another path. They're simply telling you to pay attention and be ready.

Courage doesn't mean the absence of fear – it means stepping forward anyway with an open heart.

Because you're not failing or unsafe. You're just growing.

And on the other side of the unfamiliar? A version of you that is braver, wiser, and better prepared to face the next new thing.

You got this!

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If you'd like support to cultivate courage and grow through the new and unfamiliar, I'd love to join you on the journey. Schedule your first coaching session today!