If reading isn’t your thing, don’t worry—I’ve got you covered. You can listen to this topic on my podcast, “The Disrupter’s Creed,” available on Apple and Spotify. Go ahead and subscribe—who knows, maybe I’ll finally land a sponsor and start making coffee money from this gig!
I use an app called Readwise that spits out all the highlights I’ve marked in my Kindle books. Every day, I get an email with five quotes from random books I’ve read, and it’s like a little spark of inspiration waiting in my inbox. I read mostly on the Kindle app for this reason, but when I absolutely love a book, I buy the hardcover so I can display it. Yes, it’s ridiculous, and I have no defense for it. Today, one of those Readwise gems hit my inbox at the perfect time:
“When in doubt… Look for the fear. That’s almost always the source of your doubt.” – Seth Godin
That quote hit me like a lightning bolt. Fear and doubt go hand in hand, don’t they? They creep in when we’re on the verge of something important, something that stretches us. Godin’s words reminded me of another powerful idea I’ve been revisiting lately—a theme central to The War of Art by Steven Pressfield.
It’s funny to think about how long I avoided that book. I first heard about it years ago, but I dismissed it, thinking it wasn’t for me. I was a cop, after all. What did I have in common with the world of art and creativity? At the time, it felt like a world apart.
I know better now. Creativity isn’t limited to what we traditionally label as “art.” Writing, storytelling, problem-solving, building relationships—all of these are acts of creation. The truth is, we are all creators. But as adults, we resist seeing ourselves that way.
As kids, we embraced creativity without hesitation. We made art every day. It didn’t matter whether we had any talent; we celebrated whatever we made and proudly demanded it be displayed on the fridge. And then one day, we discovered judgment and ridicule. We became self-conscious. That fearless, joyful spark? It faded under the weight of self-doubt and the fear of being laughed at.
Ask a child if they can draw, and you’ll get an enthusiastic “YES!” Ask most adults, and they’ll shake their heads, insisting they’re terrible. Somewhere along the way, we traded our playful confidence for fear of failure and rejection.
When I finished the final edits of my manuscript and sent it off to the publisher, I literally got sick to my stomach. Writing the book had felt safe. It was just me, my thoughts, and the blinking cursor. But publishing? That was a whole new level of vulnerability. My story, my heart, my deepest thoughts—they were about to be in the hands of friends, strangers, and critics alike.
In hindsight, it’s absurd. Of course, I wanted people to read the book. But the idea of opening myself up to critique paralyzed me. My early drafts were “safe,” holding back anything too raw or controversial. But then came the nudges—from my publisher, Naren Aryal, and from *Brené Brown—to stop playing it safe. They pushed me to write what I really felt: the truth about my trauma, my stance on guns, and the hard truths about bad cops.
As Pressfield writes in The War of Art, “The stronger the resistance you feel, the more important it is to do the thing.” So, I did it. And then I threw up.
Predictably, not everyone loved what I said. But a lot of people did. And yet, like so many of us, I found myself obsessing over the few harsh critics. Funny how a thousand compliments can be overshadowed by a handful of negative comments.
Over time, I’ve built resilience. I remind myself that I don’t love every book I read or every person I meet, and not everyone will love me or my work. That’s okay. Not everyone will understand you, and some will judge or dismiss you. The trick is to focus on the people who do get it and stay committed to your work. As I often say, “You could be the juiciest, ripest apple in the world, and there will still be someone who doesn’t like apples.”
When I started speaking on big stages, the fear resurfaced. I was comfortable speaking as a police chief because it wasn’t personal—it was about representing my department and my officers. Now, I’m telling my own stories: my failures, my triumphs, and my truths. It’s raw. It’s terrifying.
But it’s also transformational. At an Impact Eleven Masterclass, I heard Seth Mattison say something that shifted my perspective:
“Truth that touches something deep and timeless within us reminds us who we are and who we can become. The heart of a story isn’t its events; it’s the transformation it reveals.”
When I stand on stage, I think about the truths I’m sharing and how they might transform someone in the audience. That thought silences the resistance and replaces it with purpose.
So, what are you resisting right now? What have you been putting off?
Is it a conversation you’re dreading because you’re afraid of the outcome? Maybe it’s that dream you’ve tucked away, convincing yourself it’s too late to pursue. It could be something smaller but no less daunting—finally signing up for that class, starting a side hustle, or even hitting the gym for the first time in years.
Resistance shows up in so many forms, and often it disguises itself as busyness, procrastination, or excuses. If you’re not sure what you’re resisting, ask yourself: What keeps nagging at the back of your mind? What goal feels exciting and terrifying all at once?
And if you still don’t know, consider this: Try something new. When you step into unfamiliar territory, you often discover the very thing you’ve been searching for.
As Seth Godin says, when the path isn’t clear, it’s often because you’re being called to try something new.
Lean into the fear. Push through the resistance. On the other side of that discomfort is something wonderful—something only you can create.
Now, get out there and do the thing. The world is waiting.
Onward and upward, my fellow disrupters!
*Footnote: Brene Brown didn’t personally help me overcome my fear—it was the lesson I took from her book, Daring Greatly. But it’s okay if you don’t read this footnote and assume Brene is my friend. (I won’t correct you.)
