Self-doubt is an universal human experience that often whispers in our ears. Questioning our abilities, our worth, and our decisions. It’s that nagging feeling that we’re not quite good enough, smart enough, or capable enough, despite evidence to the contrary. And while it can feel isolating, as if we’re the only ones grappling with such insecurities. The truth is, self-doubt is incredibly common.
It can manifest in various ways: the fear of failure, the fear of success, perfectionism. However, recognizing the universality of self-doubt can be incredibly liberating. When we understand that even the most accomplished individuals experience moments of uncertainty. We can begin to approach our own self-doubt with greater compassion and understanding. It’s about acknowledging our doubts and keep moving forward anyway.
My experience
Becoming a coach is not easy and I found myself drowning in questions I couldn’t answer. It’s about speaking with honesty here. Questions like am I good enough? How much should I charge? How do I run a coaching business by myself? What if I mess it up? What if no one comes? Besides of that I was about to get my first client and faced delays with my recording. What if they do come… and I disappoint them? On top of that I didn’t pass the ICF accreditation and have to do another recording. I kept pushing by creating my intake session form and designed my business card but no clarity. I became aware of my own being, that being overwhelmed, stressed… is not what I want for people.
Before reaching the point of crisis I simply stepped back and signed off for a while. I stepped back not because I gave up, but because I needed space to breathe, to feel, to understand. I needed to see myself again not through the lens of expectations, but through honesty. My decision was to come out publicly as a gay. Sharing my truth and speaking with honesty and authenticity was liberating. Last summer I came out to my family and my closest mate. Because coming out is hard and brave. My vision is ambitious and I’ve been brave. Coming out is as brave as this as I remember so many people said to me I’m destined to do great things in my life. I want to guide people into truth as I’m doing for myself. And sharing knowledge makes me happy.
Clarity and light bulb moment
One of the biggest lessons I’m learning right now is how to leverage from my maximizer strength in a healthy way. I pushed myself to be the best, to do things perfectly, to jump straight into the arena before I even knew the rules. I thought that was strength. But being a maximizer doesn’t always mean pushing harder. Sometimes it means stepping back. I’m realising that pausing isn’t failure. It’s giving myself the space to get clarity on what I truly want to do with coaching. I had my light bulb moment while walking in London’s parks and greenspaces. I had an insight that forcing myself into that path alone of my own coaching business doesn’t feel right yet. On top of that my desire to excel, to master my craft, to offer the highest quality coaching possible has to be in a healthy way.
It’s not only about slowing down, but every small steps matter by doing less. By the way stepping back to avoid burnout and doing less is high performance! Keeping the momentum in a healthier way and looking for opportunities once I’ll be fully accredited. It’s about keeping doing things for myself and having an open heart with all possibilities and opportunities around. I’ve learned that being a maximizer is also being surrounded with people like fellow coaches, mentors in a structure that challenges me to perform at my highest level. Working within an organisation, being part of a team, learning from experienced coaches this is where I can develop the skills, the confidence, and the excellence I know I’m capable of. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
I don’t have to throw myself into the arena unprepared. I don’t have to carry the weight of a business, marketing, pricing, admin, self-promotion, and self-doubt all at once. What I can continue building my business slowly, on the side, with intention instead of pressure. With maturity instead of panic. With clarity instead of chaos.
Listen to your heart
Lately I’ve been thinking about what my dad used to say to me a lot. Follow your heart and at this point of my life this resonates with me a lot. I listen to my heart in a much deeper way I also listen to my intuition. Not the loud, emotional highs, but the quiet inner knowing that lives underneath all the noise. When self-doubt rises, when my mind starts spinning with questions and fears, that’s when my intuition becomes even more important. It doesn’t shout. It just whispers, “Slow down, breathe, you’re on the right path.”
Pausing used to feel like weakness to me. Like I was losing momentum or falling behind. But now I see it differently. Pausing isn’t stopping it’s choosing clarity. It’s adjusting my direction while still moving forward. It’s learning to trust that even when everything feels uncertain, my inner compass still knows where I’m going. And through all this, consistency has become my anchor. My rituals, my routines, my time at the gym, the small things that keep my spirit grounded and my mind clear they’re not just habits. They’re reminders that I’m committed to myself.
Final words
Exercise, movement, time alone, moments of silence these are the places where I hear my intuition the most. These are the moments when I realise I’m not lost. I’m unfolding. I’m growing in ways I can’t always see in real time. I enjoy the journey instead of trying to control every outcome. To trust the process, trust the timing, trust the small steps even the quiet ones, even the hesitant ones.
This year marks the ten-year anniversary of the 13th November Paris attacks. I watched the commemoration ceremony on my way home on the bus. I was doubting about my path as a coach, if I was meant for this, if I was ever going to find clarity or where I’m going to do this. And then the Eagles of Death metal sang and played the song you’ll never walk alone alongside survivors. A song that carries so much history, so much emotion, so much meaning, especially after the Bataclan. But it hit me unexpectedly, like a reminder from somewhere beyond my thoughts.
“Walk on through the wind, walk on through the rain…”
The words felt more personal. They weren’t just lyrics; they were a message. A reminder that even in moments where everything feels uncertain, when my path looks foggy I’m not walking alone. It brings back the resilience, the unity, the human spirit that rises even in the darkest moments. And suddenly, my own doubts didn’t feel like a failure. They felt like part of the journey. Part of learning. Part of being human. Maybe I don’t know exactly what my coaching path will look like. Maybe I don’t need to.
Walking through uncertainty doesn’t mean I’m lost.
Walking through doubt doesn’t mean I’m failing.
It means I’m still moving.
“Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart…”
