Introduction
There is a particularly convincing way to postpone something that matters: tell yourself you will do it when you feel more confident. It sounds responsible. You are giving yourself time, getting your thoughts together, waiting until the nerves settle. Meanwhile, the email stays in drafts, the application remains unfinished, and the idea never gets a chance to meet the world.
The difficulty is that confidence may be waiting on the other side of the very experience you are avoiding. You want evidence that you can handle the unfamiliar. But gathering that evidence requires entering it.
Courage gets you into the rehearsal room. Confidence can develop while you are there. That distinction runs through the experiences of Barbara Daoust, whose years in theatre and acting coaching inform her work helping people develop a different relationship with who they are becoming. It offers a useful way to reconsider the uncomfortable beginning we so often mistake for a reason to stop.
Why This Post Matters
Most of us understand that beginners need practice. We become less generous when the beginner happens to be us. We expect our first attempt at a difficult conversation, a new role, or a public presentation to feel like something we have already mastered.
That expectation creates a frustrating arrangement: we require the feeling of competence before allowing ourselves the experiences that could help us become competent. Discomfort then becomes a verdict. We feel awkward, so we assume we are unsuited to the task.
The alternative is to become more curious about what the discomfort means. Is there preparation missing? Is the situation a poor fit? Or are we encountering the ordinary uncertainty of doing something unfamiliar? Those questions lead to different decisions. Treating every uneasy feeling as a stop sign prevents us from discovering the difference.
The Rehearsal Comes Before the Performance
Theatre makes this sequence unusually visible. A1 picks up a script before the character feels natural. There are lines to learn, choices to test, and moments when nothing quite lands. The polished performance is preceded by work that would look considerably less impressive on opening night.
Barbara Daoust describes watching her partner, an actor, move through that process: discomfort, awkwardness, doubt, and another day with the script. Familiarity develops through repeated engagement. The rehearsal happens while confidence is still taking shape.
We can give ourselves that same permission outside a theatre. A first presentation can be a rehearsal for becoming a stronger communicator. A carefully prepared conversation can be practice in speaking more directly. Taking the attempt seriously does not require pretending it should already feel effortless.
That is the part I find exciting about audacity. A person can recognize the uncertainty and still decide that the next step matters. The decision creates an opportunity to learn something that waiting alone cannot teach.
When Uncomfortable Starts to Mean Unqualified
A new direction can bring familiar doubts into sharp focus. The moment a possibility becomes a commitment, objections arrive: you have never done this, you might look foolish, someone else would be better. Barbara Daoust connects that tension to the gap between a familiar self-image and an unfamiliar way of showing up.
“And so you can just keep repeating the patterns, the behaviors, the habits, the beliefs that are holding you, you know, stuck in that rut of sameness. So now I’m using character building, you know, for people to start identifying that new image, the the new version of themselves and scripting it in a way that they feel very uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. But that’s why it’s it’s so important when you know why you’re feeling uncomfortable.”
Knowing why you feel uncomfortable changes the conversation you can have with yourself. You may still feel exposed, but you can ask what needs practice instead of immediately concluding that you do not belong.
There is also a difference between experiencing difficulty and making it your identity. Struggling with a first attempt does not establish that you are incapable. It tells you something about that attempt. Keeping the observation specific leaves room to respond, adjust, and try again.
Give the Messy Attempt Some Shape
Permission to begin imperfectly becomes more useful when the attempt has boundaries. Barbara Daoust uses the phrase “design your messy.” It is a wonderfully practical expression because it allows for uncertainty while preserving some intention.
Her own account includes a necessary qualification: she acknowledges having a tendency to jump into the pool before checking for water. In her example of someone opening a coffee shop, she recommends researching the location and market. Courage can include homework. Preparation gives the experiment a better foundation without promising that every uncomfortable feeling will disappear.
For someone considering public speaking, a manageable attempt might be a short contribution at a familiar meeting. For someone exploring a new business, it might be a conversation with a potential customer before making a major investment. The useful question is what action would produce real learning at a scale you can reasonably manage.
Her experience at UCLA illustrates why room for experimentation mattered to her. Bored with work she describes as excessively tidy, she chose productions she could not easily figure out. Some went badly. She later experienced a major success, which she connects to those difficult years. The setbacks were real; so was the space they created to work differently.
Commitment Can Change What You Practise
The same idea appears in a more recent setting: a flamenco class. Barbara Daoust wanted to explore dancing, then found herself invited to participate in a recital after roughly a month. She did not feel comfortable with how she looked or performed.
Before agreeing to the recital, she practised on class days. After committing, she practised every night. The commitment changed her behaviour before it made her comfortable. She also gave herself permission to stay toward the back and make mistakes.
There is something refreshingly human about that detail. Participation did not require claiming the centre of the stage. She found a way to take part that allowed her to be a learner. A meaningful step can be modest in scale and still ask something courageous of you.
Lessons for Living Life Audaciously
Consider something you have been holding until you feel ready. Try describing the preparation it actually needs. Perhaps you need information, a conversation, a little rehearsal, or support from someone with relevant experience. Those are things you can pursue. A demand to feel completely certain is much harder to satisfy.
Then give yourself a specific opportunity to practise. Choose an action that matters, make the necessary preparations, and decide what you want to learn from it. Afterwards, notice what happened without turning every awkward moment into a judgement about your worth.
Kindness belongs in this process. When asked what she would tell herself during her hardest period, Barbara Daoust points to being kind to herself. That matters here too. You can ask yourself to stretch while allowing yourself the patience you would offer another person learning something new.
Your next attempt may still feel uncomfortable. It can also give you a clearer question to work with, a skill to develop, or a small piece of evidence that you can keep going. Let the next step be a rehearsal you are willing to enter before you know how the performance will feel.
Hear the full conversation on The Audacious Living Podcast.
