7 Steps to Self Trust

During the 2016 Summer Olympics, I listened to Australian Swimming Commentator Giaan Rooney call the 4x100 Women’s Freestyle Relay. After the race, she made a comment about the trust that each of these athletes has to place in their teammates to always do their best.

Trust is an essential part of living a full life. Whether it’s at work, in family relationships, partnerships, engaging in creativity, starting up a new business, returning to study…invariably we are faced with situations that require us to trust others, and to trust ourselves.

Any undertaking that is worthwhile and important asks us to consider how we might trust more freely and readily. Trust is linked with courage, confidence, experimentation and risk. All necessary elements for leading creative, fulfilling and rich lives.

As a women’s life and creativity coach, I observe how many of us struggle to deeply trust ourselves.

How is it that we too frequently dismiss our initial gut reactions, downplay our own needs, experience turmoil in making decisions – that if we listened a little more closely to ourselves, to really tune into what our heart/gut/intuition is telling us and to know that it is OK to step into a place of greater self-trust. If things don’t work out as planned, then to know it’s not permanent and that things and ideas can be changed. That a change in direction can be viewed as interesting and with curiosity, rather than a setback or situation for concern.

Image: Georgie James Photography

Image: Georgie James Photography

Do you trust yourself that you are doing the very best you can, right now, with all you have and all you know now?

Do you truly believe that you can always do things differently later, if you need to, if you want to, if you have further information?

What stops us from trusting ourselves more?

Over-reliance on information and stories from the past.

Yes, we can always learn from past experiences and situations. But, when we look at the past, we have a lens that filters that information, or even distorts it completely. This means we are looking at that past event with different eyes, different emotions and different thoughts and beliefs. So it is impossible to interpret it now, as we did then. And nor should we, as because we now see things in altered way – it is a sign of growth, learning and new perspectives.

This means that we should not solely rely on past information to form an accurate and helpful position on how much and why we need to trust ourselves and our potential.

Preoccupation with trying to predict the future.

When we spend too much time trying to predict and control the future, we are not present and attentive. This can lead to increased anxiety and avoidance – which minimises our opportunities to experience a rich, full and meaningful life.

What can we do to trust ourselves more?

1.     Get comfortable with making mistakes.

2.     Get comfortable with being ‘wrong.’

3.     Get comfortable with appearing foolish, silly and imperfect.

4.     Celebrate when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable, extend ourselves and grow.

5.     Forgive ourselves for past mistakes or perceived failures.

6.     Get our heads out of the past and into the now.

7.     Learn to be still and quiet. Resist temptation to be constantly ‘busy’ or ‘distracted’ – intuition can’t be heard above the noise and inattention.

© Naomi Morrow, 2016.

Why ‘mistakes’ are good for us: Lessons from my 'ruined' painting.

I’ve been yearning to make space again in my life for creativity. Being a mother of three young ones, studying and establishing my own business it’s been difficult to find the time where I can be creative as a solo pursuit. (I definitely enjoy my creative time with children, but now I’m talking about myself…where I can be alone with my thoughts and ideas and experimentation).

So I signed up to do Nicola Newman's online painting course. I was super excited. It probably wasn’t the best time for me, signing up in the week leading up to launching my business – but I couldn’t shake the call to be creative any longer. I enthusiastically visited the art shop with toddler and pre-schooler in tow to buy the requisite materials. I chose my paint colours, palette knife, palette and the special glaze wash. I recall checking a few times with the young assistant that the last product was exactly what I needed – having never used it before. I was doubtful that she had given me the right one, but she insisted and so I bought it.

About a week later, I decided it was time to create my painting. The children were in bed. I laid everything out on the kitchen table and got to work. I watched the teaching video as I painted my abstract work, learning about layering and texture and techniques. I felt excited to be honouring my creativity in this way. I loved the way Nicola made it seem so easy, I loved the process and I was having fun. As I was painting, what was emerging was really pleasing to my eye. My inner critic would normally be chattering away about the relative skill or not in my painting, but this time she was silenced. I felt creatively alive!

When I had decided my painting was finished, I left it to dry after admiring my work briefly. When I was sure it was dry, I mixed up the glaze wash. It did not look like the product in the video, and I felt a little niggle of concern, but in my haste to finish the painting – I applied it. My painting disappeared. Under a layer of colour. It smooshed all the paint together into a wobbly, blurred, I-don’t-care-how-long-you-took-to-create-that-special-art giant blergh. I felt myself become angry, sad, frustrated as my inner critic rose up to give her unwelcome commentary.

“That’s what you get for trying something new! You’re not expert enough to do this! You can’t get all your hard work back now – it’s gone! What a waste!”
Image © Naomi Morrow, 2016. 

Image © Naomi Morrow, 2016. 

I packed up sadly, sullenly. Defeated.
I sat with these feelings.

Eventually, I began to notice other thoughts.

What had I learned here? Remember the Tibetan monks creating beautiful, painstaking mandala works from sand that are only temporary? To be washed away? Didn’t I love the process though, wasn’t I really in flow? Why did I need ‘proof’ of how I spent my time? Did I need validation that I could ‘do’ art? When did product become more important to me than process? Couldn’t I simply try again another day?

Yes, it stings when we try new or difficult things and it doesn’t work. We feel disappointed. Disheartened. Tempted to return to that place of safety, where we don’t extend, challenge, try or risk. But there’s no richness or growth there. It’s a barren and boring land.

I’m so passionate about bringing more self-compassion, joy and creativity into the world that I realised I had better keep trying with myself. Work in progress. The canvas can be painted again.

And I had to be honest with myself. Instead of looking outside myself for explaining the problem (“the shop assistant sold me the wrong product”), I owned up: “I put the glaze on before the paint had dried completely”.

What I learned is that my ‘mistake’ (AKA my impatience or more positively reframed ‘enthusiasm’)…ended up forming an interesting, beautiful and rich foundation for my new painting.

If we stop to review what we feel are our imperfections, flaws and mistakes and consider them with more patience and compassion – we can then begin to see how they are providing an interesting, beautiful and rich foundation for our life. A life we where can be open to new learning, building upon past experiences, being creative and experimental.

The end product! © Naomi Morrow, 2016

The end product! © Naomi Morrow, 2016

© Naomi Morrow, 2016.