Self-Trust Isn't Confidence. It's the Muscle Underneath It.
Before we jump into a hard chat about trust, and more specifically self-trust, I've got a public admission…
For the first time in a long while, I've been caught up in my own writer's block, grinding out irritatingly semi-articulate ideas. So, for those of you caught in your own friction, I struggle like everyone else.
When all else fails, I ask a colleague for guidance... and they come back with the obvious, unblocking power question:
"Your job is to have amazing conversations each month, right? Sooo, what's been coming up in those chats that we, your readers, need to know for ourselves?"
(ok, duh...)
Three Insanely Capable People, One Insanely Hard Issue.
Looking back, I had some powerful conversations this month with some truly talented humans. These are people who solve complex challenges in a way that makes many of us say, "how did they do that?"
Here's the kinds of hard personal questions they needed to explore:
"What if I can't actually make this vision happen?"
"I'm mad at myself for not being better. Why don't I trust myself?"
"How do I even know what I'm good at anymore? I've forgotten!"
"What if I'm actually a terrible leader?"
"What if I'm not good at persuading people?"
If this feels at all familiar, I'm right there too.
Kind of surprising for insanely capable people in finance, healthcare, marketing, and data science who are making a real impact in people's lives and ascending toward the top of their game.
It'd be tempting to casually peg these as confidence or self-belief problems, but that misses what's really going on. Excavating deeper, these are identity-level self-trust problems.
Building those very trust muscles–training them to have an adaptable, durable muscle memory–is the most core function of what I do.
Houston, We Have A Problem.
I get squeamish when I write about "leadership," because it feels self-indulgent and self-important. My inner cynic snidely rolls its eyes and wants to say, "yeah, bro, I'm not a leader. That's for other people." I'm confident my response isn't unique.
Let's face it. We live in a complicated world during disorienting times. And here's the thing—our individual self-trust issues aren't happening in a vacuum. They're part of a larger pattern.
Apparently, only 34% of US Americans said "Most people can be trusted" in a 2023-2024 Pew research study. That's down from 46% in 1972.
This means that two-thirds (66%!) of Americans now assume other people are fundamentally unreliable… untrustable. It's become the dominant code in our social operating system.
Are many of us believing, "Oh, I'm trustable… it's just everyone else who's shifty AF."?
There's another way to look at what's happening with that 66%: "I don't trust myself, so why should I trust anyone else?"
As the saying in sobriety and recovery communities goes…
"You can't transmit what you haven't got."
What's The Cost of Mistrust?
You and I are crafty thinkers. None of this should sound surprising. Disturbing, yes.
Our brains are intricately wired to threat detection. We are, after all, as Marc Lesser points out, "descendants of the nervous ape." That nervousness kept us alive back when we lived in small, tight-knit communities.
Moreover, algorithms, headlines, and advertising bank on our outrage and mistrust. Tapping into our amygdala-level fears and our fondness for dopamine hits—that's the business model.
Whether we like it or not, whether we feel it consciously or not, two-thirds of us might be expending significant energy scanning for threats. Imagine being forced to pick up a heavy barbell and hold it in an overhead chair pose… indefinitely. That's how I imagine the chronic strain of mistrust.
We've basically become optimistic that other people are not to be trusted.
This constant operational vulnerability has tangible health costs:
Chronic stress
Elevated
cortisol levels
Suppressed immunity
Social isolation
It's like having 200 million Americans living in a permanent state of mild fight-or-flight. What, I wonder, are the inflammation markers on a societal level?
Thinking of social isolation, I quote this one often, because it's so personal … and socially important. (I believe it belongs to Johann Hari)
"The opposite of addiction isn't sobriety. The opposite of addiction is connection."
The fundamental connective tissue of trust is our connection to others.
The Spiritual (and Business) ROI of Practicing Trust
My friend Breck, a great coach in LA, often reminds us that "trust is the thing we must build in every single interaction. Even ones with ourselves."
Trust is how we attract allies and create opportunity. It's how we signal we are reliable… even when we're not immediately present.
In the cycling event I produce, The Bovine Classic, 600 people count on us to keep them safe and informed. For our management team, even where and how we place course markers is a way for us to build and reinforce trust.
All it takes is one misplaced arrow to create a lost, exhausted, angry participant.
This makes treating our trust as sacred not only a smart spiritual practice, but a critical business practice as well.
I Totally Trust Myself… I Think.
If connection to others is the basis for trust, then connection to ourselves is the foundation of self-trust.
Self-trust is our ability to count on ourselves to handle whatever comes up, according to our own personal integrity. That includes accepting we'll handle our shizz when we get it wrong… which inevitably happens, because…well…human.
Many people I work with have collected some emotional sediment over the years. The kind that pushes us off course just enough that we no longer feel completely at home in our own skin—no matter how insanely capable they look on paper.
For me, at a low point in my sobriety work, it felt like watching the movie of someone else's actions while absorbing all the pain of the consequences. I knew my potential but didn't trust myself to use it wisely.
Self-trust does not equal self-confidence, self-belief, positive thinking, self-reliance, or certainty.
It's none of that. If anything, those can only exist because self-trust metabolizes at a mitochondrial level. Trust in action is a whole body experience. As dopamine and oxytocin are released, cortisol is muted. We become more connected, more aware, more available, more at ease.
The guard drops, and we shift into a script that's more organically our own.
How to Build Self-Trust: Four Practices
In practical application, for me this looks like one basic truth. My physical and emotional sobriety comes first. Before my family, before my work, before Murray. Some, particularly Murray, have said this seems selfish.
Damn right. Because without that as an anchor, none of that other stuff works. It's the deep core muscle from which all other healthiness springs.
Might be different for you.
If you and I want to build healthier relationships and healthier inner lives, then we have to show up in ways that cultivate trust. So, here are some simple, surefire ways to build that multidimensional trust:
Say what we mean. Don't say one thing, but mean another.
Mean what we say. Ever been on the receiving end of someone who says something, but only means it in the moment?
Do what we say. What we do signals what we mean. We are our actions.
Less ego. More soul. The smaller we can make our ego, the more nimble we become.
If you've ever read "The Four Agreements," these should remind you of the first of those agreements: Be impeccable with your words… especially the ones you speak to yourself.
I'll leave you with one final quote from Marc Lesser:
"If we're not building trust, we're building cynicism…(even in ourselves.)"
Remember to exhale, y'all.
Bryan
Curious about my work helping insanely capable solo entrepreneurs stop running like a fugitive who’s forgotten to exhale? Check this out.