Hard to believe it’s a month already, Reader? Let’s get rolling.

Before we dive 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 stuck in my own writer’s block, grinding out semi-articulate ideas. So, if you’ve been caught in your own friction lately, I’m right there with you.

When all else fails, I ask a colleague for guidance. They lob back the obvious unblocker:

“Your job is to have amazing conversations each month, right? Soooo… like, what’s been coming up in those chats that your readers need to know for themselves?”

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​ (ok, duh…)

Shift Happens is now 5 issues old! Time for a birthday party... with pony rides! (Did someone forward this to you and you're keen for more? Subscribe​ here​.)

Three Insanely Capable People, One Insanely Hard Issue

This month I had powerful conversations with insanely capable humans. Three people who solve complex challenges in ways that make others say: “How did they do that?”

Here are the kinds of raw questions they asked me:

• “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?”
• “What if I’m actually a terrible leader?”
• “What if I’m not good at persuading people?”

Surprising questions for people in finance, healthcare, marketing, and data science — all making real impact and rising toward the top of their game.

It’d be easy to peg these as confidence problems. But excavating deeper, these are identity-level self-trust problems.

Building those trust muscles — training them to have adaptable, durable muscle memory — is the most core function of what I do.

Houston, We Have a Problem

Here’s what makes this tricky for accomplished people…

I get squeamish writing about “leadership.” My inner cynic rolls its eyes: “Yeah, bro, I’m not a leader. That’s for other people.” I suspect I’m not alone in that reaction.

Turns out, I’m not. We live in disorienting times, and mistrust isn’t just personal — it’s cultural. Our self-trust issues don’t happen in a vacuum. They’re part of a much bigger pattern.

Only 34% of Americans said “Most people can be trusted” in Pew’s 2023–2024 survey — down from 46% in 1972.

Let that sink in... a whopping two-thirds of us now assume other people are fundamentally unreliable.

I wonder if many of us secretly believe, “Oh, I’m trustable… it’s just everyone else who’s shifty AF.”

Another possibility: “I don’t trust myself — so why should I trust anyone else?”

What's The Cost of Mistrust?

You and I are crafty thinkers. None of this should sound surprising. Disturbing, yes.

Our brains are wired for threat detection. As Marc Lesser points out, we’re “descendants of the nervous ape.” That nervousness kept us alive when we lived in tight tribes.

Today? Algorithms, headlines, and ads bank on our outrage. Our amygdalas are their business model.

Two-thirds of us are now burning energy scanning for threats. Imagine holding a heavy barbell overhead... in a squat position… indefinitely. That’s the chronic strain of mistrust.

We’ve basically become optimistic that other people can’t be trusted.

And the costs are real: chronic stress, cortisol spikes, immune suppression, social isolation. It’s like 200 million Americans living in a permanent state of mild fight-or-flight.

Which got me thinking about my own low point in sobriety — watching the movie of someone else’s actions, feeling all the consequences, and not trusting myself to use my potential wisely.

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 what comes up, in alignment with our integrity. That includes trusting we’ll handle things when we screw up — because we will.

Many people I work with carry emotional sediment that quietly pushes them off course. They don’t feel fully at home in their own skin — no matter how capable they look on paper.

Sobriety circles have a saying: “You can’t transmit what you haven’t got.”

Self-trust isn’t confidence, belief, positive thinking, self-reliance, or certainty. If anything, those exist because self-trust metabolizes at a mitochondrial level. (We can talk about mitochondria another time.)

When trust is embodied, dopamine and oxytocin rise, cortisol drops. We feel more connected, more aware, more at ease. The guard drops, and we shift into a script that’s more organically our own.

The ROI of Practicing Trust

My friend Breck, a coach in LA, reminds us: “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’re reliable — even when we’re not in the room.

At The Bovine Classic, 600 riders count on us to keep them safe. Even where we place course markers is a trust-building act. One misplaced arrow can leave someone lost, exhausted, angry.

That makes treating trust as sacred not just spiritual wisdom, but a smart business practice.

So, Where Does This Leave Us?

For me, the anchor is clear: my physical and emotional sobriety come first. Before family, before work, before Murray🐈. Some, especially Murray, have called that selfish.

They’re right. Because without that anchor, nothing else works. It’s the deep core muscle everything else depends on.

So how do you rebuild embodied self-trust? Start by examining the gaps between your words and actions. Your nervous system is keeping score even when your mind isn’t.

Questions worth asking:

• What’s one thing you said you’d do this week that you didn’t follow through on?
• When did you last say “yes” while your body screamed “no”?
  What decision are you avoiding because you don’t trust yourself with the consequences?
• If someone watched your actions for a week without hearing your words, what would they say matters most to you?
• Where are you still seeking permission for choices you’re qualified to make?
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Rebuilding happens one congruent, focused decision at a time. Not through positive thinking or confidence hacks, but through proving to your nervous system that actions match intentions.

Your mitochondria don’t care about excuses. They only respond to consistent evidence.

As Marc Lesser says: “If we’re not building trust, we’re building cynicism… (my add: even in ourselves).”

Remember to exhale.

Let’s Keep the Conversation Going

On September 16, I’m doing a LinkedIn Live with Talica Davies and Adriana Tica. We’ll dig deeper into how trust — especially self-trust — drives not just leadership, but strategy, sales, and marketing. (check out their respectively great newsletters on sales and strategic marketing.)

If trust is the frontier you’re navigating, join us. Hit reply and I’ll make sure you get the link.
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