“The story you tell yourself about yourself is the single most important thing you’re going to craft.” – Tom Bilyeu.

When I open up YouTube, one of my go-to guys to listen to is Tom Bilyeu, creator of Impact Theory.

Tom describes himself as having an obsessive mind. This obsessive mind has led to his success because he thinks constantly, he proclaims. Through his high degree of self-awareness, he can assess situations and take decisive action toward chosen change, whether that’s as minor as changing what he eats or as significant as selling his billion-dollar company.

Self-awareness, though, Tom says, is a double-edged sword. There are consequences to life, and those can be good or bad. If he uses his self-awareness and obsessive thinking to propel action towards success, it’s great. But if he becomes aware of a quality within himself that he believes needs to be altered, he can easily loop thoughts about this negative idea. That loop is a rehearsal for failure rather than success.

I relate to all of this.

This Saturday, one of my beloved clients turned friend is getting married. I’m so excited to be part of her special day, and I’ll be applying her makeup and styling her hair. She trusts me implicitly, so we haven’t done a trial run. This both warms my heart and terrifies me.

My fears come about not in the makeup part, but in the wedding updo part of this experience. Formal styles aren’t something I do every day, so I lose my grasp on the art of dressing hair in that way. Trial runs really are helpful to calm those nerves and get our hands on the canvas ahead of time. That’s why it’s a standard of the industry for hair stylists.

Instead of such a trial run, I shall get out my old mannequin head, and tomorrow evening after work, I’ll be practicing and coming up with my plan for her hair creation.

About 7 years ago, I pulled off the behemoth of all weddings, doing 12 updos plus the bride, in 3 hours. I wasn’t able to trial run those gals, so I had to essentially choreograph a dance using a notepad and my mannequin head. I practiced the run for several days leading up to the event. I determined each gal’s style based on their photos, timed myself and wrote down every step. I didn’t sleep a wink the night before.

I managed to pull it off that day which was incredible! It defied what I formerly thought was within the realm of my abilities.

I’ve been reminding myself of that experience this week, as my nerves have started to ramp up ever-so-slightly. “This is going to be a piece of cake, Jenn!” I keep telling myself. “You’re doing one gal, not 13. And you have sufficient time. It’s a done deal.” Then I guide myself to lean into the trust that my dearest friend has in me, as well.

If she has a story about your abilities that looks like success, Jenn, then you can assume the same story of success without delusion. Just rehearse on the mannequin head. Like Tom (the other Tom in my life I listen to) said at the driving range – “take practice swings until it feels right, then step up to the ball and go.”

This reminds me of my first time staying at the Ferguson camp in Michigamme, Michigan. Their property is made of the stuff of dreams, from the big windows to the fireplace to the dock overlooking the lake.

When I first entered the house, I saw on the table the key to their pontoon boat with instructions about the lake and areas to watch out for rocks. Until then, it never occurred to me that I would operate their boat, though I had seen it in the house listing. It’s not something I’ve done before, so I assumed it would be off-limits.

But something in their generous trust in people inspired me to consider taking the boat out. It was as if they knew something that I didn’t – that I could do this – I could operate their boat safely – and I fell into the excitement of that consideration. I recall vividly saying, “If they trust me to take their boat out, I can trust me to take their boat out.” I crafted a story right then and proceeded with giddy anticipation.

The drive was glorious and it felt natural – like driving a car. Coming back into dock though? It took 14 minutes and 37 reverse-and-corrects to dock that sucker.

In hindsight, I could have benefited from a healthier dose of concern regarding the docking portion of the process. But alas, I eventually got the boat close enough to the dock, jumped off quickly, and grabbed the ropes to steer it in. 🙂

If I’ve learned anything, it’s that sometimes we may need to borrow the story another believes about us and use it to craft our own. We may end up surprising ourselves.