What If How You Feel Today Isn't the Whole Story?

I read a quote from James Clear this week about opportunities and how painful it can be when something you really want doesn’t work out. His point was that, in the long run, the opportunities that are right for us have a way of finding us, and that our job is to keep going, keep working and stay in the game.

It felt particularly apt for me at the moment, although I have to admit my first reaction was probably something along the lines of, “Yes James, that all sounds lovely, but it’s a lot easier said than done.”

Because when you’re actually in the middle of disappointment or uncertainty, it can be incredibly difficult to believe that something better might be around the corner. You don’t have the benefit of hindsight yet. You’re just standing there looking at the thing you really wanted, wondering why it didn’t work out and, if you’re anything like me, questioning half the decisions you’ve made that brought you to this point.

I’ve had quite a lot of that recently.

There are days when I feel genuinely excited about what I’m building and where things might be heading. I can see opportunities, conversations are happening and I feel really clear about what I’m capable of and what I want.

And then, sometimes within the space of 24 hours, I can feel completely differently.

The self-doubt creeps in and suddenly I’m questioning whether any of it is going to work, whether I’m doing the right thing and whether I’ve completely overestimated what I’m capable of.

What I find fascinating is that often very little has actually changed.

The circumstances are the same. The work I’ve done is the same. The conversations I’ve had are the same. The only significant difference is how I feel about them that day.

And yet feelings can be incredibly convincing.

When we’re feeling confident and optimistic, it’s much easier to see possibility. An unanswered email is simply an unanswered email. Something not working out is disappointing, but there will be other opportunities. Somebody else doing well doesn’t have anything to do with our own chances of succeeding.

When self-doubt takes over, exactly the same things can start to look like evidence. The unanswered email means nobody is interested. The opportunity that fell through means we’re heading in the wrong direction. Somebody else’s success becomes a reason to question whether we’re good enough.

Nothing outside us has necessarily changed, but the story we’re telling ourselves about it has.

I suppose that’s the part of the James Clear quote that has stayed with me. Not necessarily the idea that everything happens for a reason or that if we just keep going, the perfect opportunity will inevitably appear. I’m not sure I believe life is quite that ‘tidy’.

It’s the reminder not to make a permanent judgement about where we’re going based entirely on how we happen to feel today.

And, perhaps inevitably, I can see the same thing in skiing.

I’ve spoken to so many people who can have several really good days on the mountain and then one difficult morning makes them question all of it. Perhaps the conditions have changed, they’re tired, something frightened them or they simply aren’t skiing particularly well that day. Suddenly the confidence they felt yesterday seems to have disappeared and the familiar thoughts start creeping back in.

Maybe I haven’t made as much progress as I thought.

Maybe I can’t actually do this.

Maybe this is just the skier I am.

The feeling is real. I would never suggest otherwise. If you’re frightened, frustrated or disappointed with yourself in that moment, telling yourself that you shouldn’t feel that way is unlikely to be particularly helpful.

But the conclusion you draw from that feeling might not be the whole story.

I think that’s something I’m learning to recognise in myself too. There’s quite a difference between saying, “This isn’t working” and saying, “Today, I don’t feel particularly confident that this is working.”

The first one sounds like a fact. The second acknowledges where I am without requiring me to decide what it means for everything that comes next.

Perhaps that’s what staying in the game looks like sometimes.

It doesn’t have to mean waking up every morning full of energy and unwavering belief that everything is going to work out brilliantly. There will be disappointments. Some of the things we want won’t happen, and occasionally the answer genuinely will be to change direction.

But I’m becoming increasingly wary of making those decisions on the days when self-doubt has the loudest voice.

Sometimes staying in the game might simply mean carrying on with what you can do, allowing yourself to feel thoroughly fed up about what hasn’t worked, and giving tomorrow the opportunity to look different.

Because, as I’m discovering at the moment, it very often does.