What We Learn Without Realizing

Aug 6

Originally inspired by a moment with my niece—and the unconscious beliefs we all carry.

My niece recently took a selfie.

Just a normal, everyday thing—but it stopped me in my tracks.

Not because of the pose, the smile, or even the lighting (though yes, she looked adorable and nailed the smile, pose, and lighting. Oh, and she’s 5!).
It was something deeper.

Watching her snap that photo—effortlessly, confidently, like it was second nature—made me realize: she’s already learning.

She’s learning about what’s worth capturing.
She’s learning about how she should show up.
She’s learning what’s acceptable, celebrated, liked.

And no one sat down to teach her that.

She’s absorbing the world around her—picking up on cues from conversations, TV shows, adults in her life, even the way we compliment or redirect her.
The learning is happening whether we realize it or not.

The Beliefs We Never Meant to Carry

We carry beliefs we never consciously chose.

Beliefs about who we are.
What we’re allowed to want.
How we’re supposed to act.
What “enough” looks like.

And they show up—quietly and powerfully—in the background of our decisions, relationships, and careers.

Here’s a Personal Example

When I first started coaching, I thought I had to be polished. Perfect, even.

I thought I needed to have it all figured out—because being a coach meant having the answers, walking a flawlessly aligned path, and never having an area where I struggled.

That belief? I didn’t choose it. I slowly learned it.
It just settled in—gathered over years of watching leaders, experts, and mentors. Seeing only their onstage persona, while I see the “behind the scenes” of my own life.
It came from unspoken messages in professional spaces. That I didn’t measure up because I didn’t have a fancy degree (or for the longest time, any degree).
It mirrored my high-achieving tendencies. To never let anyone see the cracks. Or to know I had a weakness, real or perceived.

And it held me back.

It made me question my readiness.
It kept me from showing up fully.
It created a wall between me and the people I most wanted to support.

It wasn’t until I began unlearning that belief—that I had to be flawless—that I found my real strength as a coach:
Not in perfection.
But in presence.
In honesty.
In my ability to hold space for complexity—my clients’, and my own.