Vulnerabold™ Sharings

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Vulnerabold® Perspectives

Sharing what I've learned and experienced.

The mistake in 'holding people accountable.'

The mistake in 'holding people accountable.'

The mistake in 'holding people accountable.'

Holding people accountable rarely produces the desired change.

May 9, 20252 min read

Big 'Buts'

Big 'Buts'

Big 'Buts'

Big Buts. I've walked around with a big but since I was a kid. It has gotten in the way of so many things throughout my life, and...

Feb 20, 20252 min read

Enough

Enough

Enough

Believing we’re not enough is the resultof not having received enough. Believing we're not enough is a hard place to navigate life from....

Feb 18, 20252 min read

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Perfectionism isn’t about achieving flawlessness—it’s about the relentless feeling of 'not good enough.'

It manifests as anxiety, procrastination, social comparison, and rigid self-rules that keep us feeling threatened, behind and inadequate.

The antidote isn't dropping our standards.
It's prioritizing our measures.

Perfectionism isn’t about achieving flawlessness—it’s about the relentless feeling of 'not good enough.'

It manifests as anxiety, procrastination, social comparison, and rigid self-rules that keep us feeling threatened, behind and inadequate.

The antidote isn't dropping our standards.
It's prioritizing our measures.

We all do it. And it can feel 'good' to do so. Not by you--by the ego. By doing so, the ego protects itself by projecting its insecurities onto others. It's a tactic for psychological survival.

That is, until we step in. Here’s how:

1. Recognize the projection. Notice when your reaction to someone feels outsized. The stronger the charge, the more likely it’s about you, not them. For example, the disdain I feel towards the self-importance of selfies.

2. Take responsibility. Pause and ask: “What part of me is being reflected here? What am I unwilling to acknowledge in myself?” For example, there’s a part of me that seeks attention, isn’t receiving it, and is furious at those who do. This shifts the focus from blaming outward to exploring inward. This is a massive showing of courageous responsibility.

3. Reconcile this ‘part’ of you. Rather than feeling irritated towards it, welcome it back. Sit with it. Understand that something is necessitating the projection. Offer this part of you compassion and curiosity. This is how the part begins to soften.

When we meet that part with acceptance and curiosity, it stops needing to sneak in through projection. We begin to meet others—and ourselves—with more clarity and less judgment. Before we know it, that part is no longer sidelined by selfies.

Healing projections is healing ourselves. Every time we reclaim what we’ve rejected, we grow freer, more whole, more human.

It’s a Vulnerabold thing to do.

We all do it. And it can feel 'good' to do so. Not by you--by the ego. By doing so, the ego protects itself by projecting its insecurities onto others. It's a tactic for psychological survival.

That is, until we step in. Here’s how:

1. Recognize the projection. Notice when your reaction to someone feels outsized. The stronger the charge, the more likely it’s about you, not them. For example, the disdain I feel towards the self-importance of selfies.

2. Take responsibility. Pause and ask: “What part of me is being reflected here? What am I unwilling to acknowledge in myself?” For example, there’s a part of me that seeks attention, isn’t receiving it, and is furious at those who do. This shifts the focus from blaming outward to exploring inward. This is a massive showing of courageous responsibility.

3. Reconcile this ‘part’ of you. Rather than feeling irritated towards it, welcome it back. Sit with it. Understand that something is necessitating the projection. Offer this part of you compassion and curiosity. This is how the part begins to soften.

When we meet that part with acceptance and curiosity, it stops needing to sneak in through projection. We begin to meet others—and ourselves—with more clarity and less judgment. Before we know it, that part is no longer sidelined by selfies.

Healing projections is healing ourselves. Every time we reclaim what we’ve rejected, we grow freer, more whole, more human.

It’s a Vulnerabold thing to do.

Fear gets a bad rap.

It’s often labeled the villain. The obstacle. The thing to overcome or silence. And sure, sometimes it is in the way. But what if it’s not there to be battled, but to befriend?

In the quiet moments with clients, after the stories settle and the silence starts to speak, I’ll often ask:

“What if you asked your fear what it wants you to pay attention to… that you’re not paying attention to?”

That question isn’t about indulging fear. It’s about getting curious. It’s about listening beneath the protection. Because fear—when we slow down enough to meet it—is often trying to protect something sacred. Something we forgot to honor. Or something we’ve been too afraid to name.

Blaise Pascal, the 17th-century philosopher and mathematician, gave us language that helps here. He spoke of three kinds of fear:

Vicious fear, which distorts and paralyzes.

Virtuous fear, which awakens conscience and clarifies values.

Valid fear, which signals real, present danger.

Most of us live in reaction to vicious fear—the fear born from old wounds and unexamined stories. It overwhelms our nervous system and convinces us to play small, shrink back, or armor up.

But then there’s virtuous fear—the kind that invites us into integrity. That says, "You’re out of alignment," "You’re slipping away from what matters." It’s not there to torment you; it’s there to realign you.

And valid fear? That’s your nervous system doing its job. Car coming fast? Run. Boundary being violated? Speak. That fear’s not irrational. It’s a signal. A committed protector.

When fear shows up, it’s easy to collapse them all into one and either obey or ignore it wholesale. But that’s a missed opportunity. Because fear—especially when it carries the voice of virtue—is often not trying to stop us, but to wake us up.

So instead of asking "How do I get rid of this fear?," maybe the better question is:

“What kind of fear is this? And what do you want me to see?”

You might be surprised by the wisdom it carries when you meet it with presence instead of resistance. You might find it's trying to bring you back to yourself—your values, your truth, your unfolding.

Fear gets a bad rap.

It’s often labeled the villain. The obstacle. The thing to overcome or silence. And sure, sometimes it is in the way. But what if it’s not there to be battled, but to befriend?

In the quiet moments with clients, after the stories settle and the silence starts to speak, I’ll often ask:

“What if you asked your fear what it wants you to pay attention to… that you’re not paying attention to?”

That question isn’t about indulging fear. It’s about getting curious. It’s about listening beneath the protection. Because fear—when we slow down enough to meet it—is often trying to protect something sacred. Something we forgot to honor. Or something we’ve been too afraid to name.

Blaise Pascal, the 17th-century philosopher and mathematician, gave us language that helps here. He spoke of three kinds of fear:

Vicious fear, which distorts and paralyzes.

Virtuous fear, which awakens conscience and clarifies values.

Valid fear, which signals real, present danger.

Most of us live in reaction to vicious fear—the fear born from old wounds and unexamined stories. It overwhelms our nervous system and convinces us to play small, shrink back, or armor up.

But then there’s virtuous fear—the kind that invites us into integrity. That says, "You’re out of alignment," "You’re slipping away from what matters." It’s not there to torment you; it’s there to realign you.

And valid fear? That’s your nervous system doing its job. Car coming fast? Run. Boundary being violated? Speak. That fear’s not irrational. It’s a signal. A committed protector.

When fear shows up, it’s easy to collapse them all into one and either obey or ignore it wholesale. But that’s a missed opportunity. Because fear—especially when it carries the voice of virtue—is often not trying to stop us, but to wake us up.

So instead of asking "How do I get rid of this fear?," maybe the better question is:

“What kind of fear is this? And what do you want me to see?”

You might be surprised by the wisdom it carries when you meet it with presence instead of resistance. You might find it's trying to bring you back to yourself—your values, your truth, your unfolding.

Habitual negative thoughts—those quick jabs of “You’re not good enough,” “You always mess this up,” “They’re going to find out you’re a fraud”—aren’t the voice of truth.

They’re the voice of a part.

A part of you that learned, somewhere along the way, that being hyper-critical might keep you safe. Safe from embarrassment. Safe from disappointment. Safe from risk. Safe from being seen.

This voice isn’t your whole self. It’s a scared, overworked part doing its best to protect you with the only tools it has: shame, doubt, judgment.

But protection isn’t the same as truth.

So what do we do? We notice the thought as their thought. We name the part. And we compassionately challenge their story:

“Can I be 100% certain this is true?”
"Is the opposite just as true?"
"What's it costing me to believe this to be true?"
“If I trusted myself right now, what would I believe instead?”

This isn’t about positive affirmations Band-Aid'ing inner wounds.

It’s about a deeper truth: That we are more than our parts. That we can lead them with curiosity, not criticism.

That’s where change begins. Not by silencing their voices—
but by listening with curiosity… and leading with love.

We're not broken. We're layered. And every layer deserves to be presenced.

That's the vulnerabold thing to do.

Habitual negative thoughts—those quick jabs of “You’re not good enough,” “You always mess this up,” “They’re going to find out you’re a fraud”—aren’t the voice of truth.

They’re the voice of a part.

A part of you that learned, somewhere along the way, that being hyper-critical might keep you safe. Safe from embarrassment. Safe from disappointment. Safe from risk. Safe from being seen.

This voice isn’t your whole self. It’s a scared, overworked part doing its best to protect you with the only tools it has: shame, doubt, judgment.

But protection isn’t the same as truth.

So what do we do? We notice the thought as their thought. We name the part. And we compassionately challenge their story:

“Can I be 100% certain this is true?”
"Is the opposite just as true?"
"What's it costing me to believe this to be true?"
“If I trusted myself right now, what would I believe instead?”

This isn’t about positive affirmations Band-Aid'ing inner wounds.

It’s about a deeper truth: That we are more than our parts. That we can lead them with curiosity, not criticism.

That’s where change begins. Not by silencing their voices—
but by listening with curiosity… and leading with love.

We're not broken. We're layered. And every layer deserves to be presenced.

That's the vulnerabold thing to do.

Emotions can feel like they own us–like they ARE us.

Fear overwhelms us. Anxiety takes over. Sadness colors everything we see. "I am what I feel" is the belief.

The truth is, we're not the emotion. Who we are is who's noticing them.

When we're feeling discomfort, we're in it—identified with it. We not only feel it, but we also become it. And when we do, we (typically) seek to change it.

That right there is of utmost importance: When we 'feel it,' our first impulse is to get rid of the fear, to eliminate the anxiety. This approach rarely, if ever, works for us. Why? Because when we become the emotion, we are overwhelmed by it, thus amplifying it. And like the plague, we avoid it even more. As well, it's extremely dismissive of the parts of our internal system that are generating the fear and anxiety. When we become them, we can no longer attend to them.

This is the quality of relationship most of us experience with 'uncomfortable' emotions.

There's another way.

When we notice fear, anxiety, anger, jealousy, embarrassment, etc., we disrupt the pattern of becoming it. Noticing means we disidentify with it as something we are and relate to as something we're experiencing. We meet it with curiosity and generosity:

Curiosity: Where in or around my body do I feel this <fear> the most? The least? What else do I notice about it? Does it move? Does it vibrate? What happens when I imagine myself sitting down next to it and saying, "Hello"? What happens then? This is all about compassionate, curious observation.

Generosity: Instead of doing things to avoid feeling the <fear>, we give it our time. We give it our attention. We gift it our patience and presence.

One of the most curious and generous questions we can ask is this: "How am I feeling towards this <fear>?" The answer provides an incredible amount of information about your relationship with it, the degree of intensity, frequency, and duration of it, and how you'll relate to it 'next time.' And there will be a next time, for all emotions. That's what is so cool about doing this work--endless opportunities to practice.

Emotions can feel like they own us–like they ARE us.

Fear overwhelms us. Anxiety takes over. Sadness colors everything we see. "I am what I feel" is the belief.

The truth is, we're not the emotion. Who we are is who's noticing them.

When we're feeling discomfort, we're in it—identified with it. We not only feel it, but we also become it. And when we do, we (typically) seek to change it.

That right there is of utmost importance: When we 'feel it,' our first impulse is to get rid of the fear, to eliminate the anxiety. This approach rarely, if ever, works for us. Why? Because when we become the emotion, we are overwhelmed by it, thus amplifying it. And like the plague, we avoid it even more. As well, it's extremely dismissive of the parts of our internal system that are generating the fear and anxiety. When we become them, we can no longer attend to them.

This is the quality of relationship most of us experience with 'uncomfortable' emotions.

There's another way.

When we notice fear, anxiety, anger, jealousy, embarrassment, etc., we disrupt the pattern of becoming it. Noticing means we disidentify with it as something we are and relate to as something we're experiencing. We meet it with curiosity and generosity:

Curiosity: Where in or around my body do I feel this <fear> the most? The least? What else do I notice about it? Does it move? Does it vibrate? What happens when I imagine myself sitting down next to it and saying, "Hello"? What happens then? This is all about compassionate, curious observation.

Generosity: Instead of doing things to avoid feeling the <fear>, we give it our time. We give it our attention. We gift it our patience and presence.

One of the most curious and generous questions we can ask is this: "How am I feeling towards this <fear>?" The answer provides an incredible amount of information about your relationship with it, the degree of intensity, frequency, and duration of it, and how you'll relate to it 'next time.' And there will be a next time, for all emotions. That's what is so cool about doing this work--endless opportunities to practice.

Sovereignty was an elusive experience for me most of my life. In reflection, I pretty much turned my nervous system over to just about anyone. The reality is that most of us unconsciously give control of our nervous system to someone or something:

To a boss.

To a partner.

To a deadline.

To a story.

To a president.

Life can feel like a series of emotional hijackings. Reactions that seem automatic. Spirals that feel unavoidable.

Here’s the truth: Your nervous system doesn’t just respond to what’s happening. It responds to how you’re relating to what’s happening:

That tension in your chest before a hard conversation.

That surge of urgency when you're behind.

That shutdown when you're criticized.

These are signals—not flaws. They’re your system saying, “I don’t feel safe here. I need YOU." The cool thing is, you don’t need to fix the situation to find freedom. All it takes is presencing the quality of your relationship with it.

Ask yourself:

What's my relationship with this moment?

Who or what have I given control of my nervous system?

How will I take it back?

This is where sovereignty begins.

When you notice how you’re being with what’s here—noticing, without judgment—you stop giving your power away. You stop outsourcing your regulation to external conditions. You stop letting anyone else dictate your inner experience.

When we meet each moment with presence—curious, calm, clear—we access sovereignty.

So, who’s running your nervous system right now?

Sovereignty was an elusive experience for me most of my life. In reflection, I pretty much turned my nervous system over to just about anyone. The reality is that most of us unconsciously give control of our nervous system to someone or something:

To a boss.

To a partner.

To a deadline.

To a story.

To a president.

Life can feel like a series of emotional hijackings. Reactions that seem automatic. Spirals that feel unavoidable.

Here’s the truth: Your nervous system doesn’t just respond to what’s happening. It responds to how you’re relating to what’s happening:

That tension in your chest before a hard conversation.

That surge of urgency when you're behind.

That shutdown when you're criticized.

These are signals—not flaws. They’re your system saying, “I don’t feel safe here. I need YOU." The cool thing is, you don’t need to fix the situation to find freedom. All it takes is presencing the quality of your relationship with it.

Ask yourself:

What's my relationship with this moment?

Who or what have I given control of my nervous system?

How will I take it back?

This is where sovereignty begins.

When you notice how you’re being with what’s here—noticing, without judgment—you stop giving your power away. You stop outsourcing your regulation to external conditions. You stop letting anyone else dictate your inner experience.

When we meet each moment with presence—curious, calm, clear—we access sovereignty.

So, who’s running your nervous system right now?

And yet, most of us were never taught how to actually relate to ourselves—that is with compassion, curiosity, or care.

Instead, we hustle for worth. We criticize and self-doubt. We perform for acceptance and approval. We avoid what’s hard to feel.

But here’s the truth: You can’t lead, love, or live fully on the outside when you’re at war with yourself, inside.

Changing your life starts with changing your relationship to yourself.

Not by fixing. Not by forcing. But by finally listening.

Start where you are. Get curious about the parts of you you’ve tried to push away. Learn to stay with the discomfort instead of outrunning it.

This is the work. This is the way. This is what it means to be vulnerabold.

And yet, most of us were never taught how to actually relate to ourselves—that is with compassion, curiosity, or care.

Instead, we hustle for worth. We criticize and self-doubt. We perform for acceptance and approval. We avoid what’s hard to feel.

But here’s the truth: You can’t lead, love, or live fully on the outside when you’re at war with yourself, inside.

Changing your life starts with changing your relationship to yourself.

Not by fixing. Not by forcing. But by finally listening.

Start where you are. Get curious about the parts of you you’ve tried to push away. Learn to stay with the discomfort instead of outrunning it.

This is the work. This is the way. This is what it means to be vulnerabold.

In business and life, expecting others to know what you know, to do what you would do, and to think like you would think, is disrespectful––to yourself. It dismisses your knowledge, expertise, experience, savvy, and instinct. It creates drama. It also perpetuates impostorism.

A profound responsibility is taken when acknowledging and respecting our knowledge and experience. We stabilize our nervous system. The 'imposter' fades away. In doing so, we're equipping ourselves to lead, manage, and contribute in a far more effective, connecting, and meaningful way.

In business and life, expecting others to know what you know, to do what you would do, and to think like you would think, is disrespectful––to yourself. It dismisses your knowledge, expertise, experience, savvy, and instinct. It creates drama. It also perpetuates impostorism.

A profound responsibility is taken when acknowledging and respecting our knowledge and experience. We stabilize our nervous system. The 'imposter' fades away. In doing so, we're equipping ourselves to lead, manage, and contribute in a far more effective, connecting, and meaningful way.

Attending a college graduation this weekend, listening to the advice shared with the graduates, I had a thought: These kids are about to embark on the next 40+ years of their lives, as employees. Their relationship with this will have a dramatic impact on their fulfillment.

A common business mantra says, 'Every employee is replaceable.' And it's true: every employee, no matter how valuable, is ultimately replaceable.

But you know what?

Every employer is replaceable too.

From this perspective, you take responsibility. You have choice. You also show yourself a ton of respect.

Think about it: Every employer pays you for the unique gifts, talents, and strengths you bring to the organization. That means each of us has distinct value—we ultimately bring the benefit. It's ours. And it's wanted, widely.

There's only one of you. Let that unique marketability fuel your career, not compliance or servitude or comfort. Always FEEL that you're the cause of your career.

This dynamic reduces the anxiety that's so often experienced throughout a career. It keeps you from falling into a victimhood relationship with an employer, with your career, and ultimately, life.

Attending a college graduation this weekend, listening to the advice shared with the graduates, I had a thought: These kids are about to embark on the next 40+ years of their lives, as employees. Their relationship with this will have a dramatic impact on their fulfillment.

A common business mantra says, 'Every employee is replaceable.' And it's true: every employee, no matter how valuable, is ultimately replaceable.

But you know what?

Every employer is replaceable too.

From this perspective, you take responsibility. You have choice. You also show yourself a ton of respect.

Think about it: Every employer pays you for the unique gifts, talents, and strengths you bring to the organization. That means each of us has distinct value—we ultimately bring the benefit. It's ours. And it's wanted, widely.

There's only one of you. Let that unique marketability fuel your career, not compliance or servitude or comfort. Always FEEL that you're the cause of your career.

This dynamic reduces the anxiety that's so often experienced throughout a career. It keeps you from falling into a victimhood relationship with an employer, with your career, and ultimately, life.

Doing so rarely, if ever, produces the desired change.

“They should be held accountable.” “I’m holding you accountable.” These phrases are overused, fear-fueled, and ineffective. We continues to use them because they feel powerful. They make someone else wrong and us 'right.' This position of power is an egoic energy of anger and ultimately, fear. These phrases are a preferred weapon of mass destruction in the ego’s arsenal. It’s bullets are blame, judgment, and 'or else.'

NO sustained behavior change comes from a state of fear, intimidation, blame, or threat.* We immediately switch to survival (psychological) in these moments. When 'switched', learning isn’t remotely important. Neither is being accountable.

ALL sustained change comes from the energy of curiosity, support, and possibility.*

If you really want someone to shift how they’re doing something, end the blame game and take responsibility for your contribution to the situation. And when we engage with the individual/team involved, try doing so from curiosity instead of blame, fear, or anger. Even engaging these types of situations from a ‘performance improvement’ position thwarts change.

The reality is, that's how we've been conditioned to do so. And in some respects, it feels 'good' to do so: It feels like power. It feels like control. No problem--that's totally normal for us. And it's ineffective when it comes to creating sustained change.

We can choose to hold accountability differently. We can make it about learning. About growing. About evolving. For all parties involved. The energy WE bring to communicating another's requirement for change is the go-no go catalyst for the desired change to happen.

When we start holding ourselves accountable to that, and do so from love, curiosity, and personal responsibility, sustained change becomes possible.

It’s the Vulnerabold® thing to do.

*Helping People Change; Richard Boyatzis

Doing so rarely, if ever, produces the desired change.

“They should be held accountable.” “I’m holding you accountable.” These phrases are overused, fear-fueled, and ineffective. We continues to use them because they feel powerful. They make someone else wrong and us 'right.' This position of power is an egoic energy of anger and ultimately, fear. These phrases are a preferred weapon of mass destruction in the ego’s arsenal. It’s bullets are blame, judgment, and 'or else.'

NO sustained behavior change comes from a state of fear, intimidation, blame, or threat.* We immediately switch to survival (psychological) in these moments. When 'switched', learning isn’t remotely important. Neither is being accountable.

ALL sustained change comes from the energy of curiosity, support, and possibility.*

If you really want someone to shift how they’re doing something, end the blame game and take responsibility for your contribution to the situation. And when we engage with the individual/team involved, try doing so from curiosity instead of blame, fear, or anger. Even engaging these types of situations from a ‘performance improvement’ position thwarts change.

The reality is, that's how we've been conditioned to do so. And in some respects, it feels 'good' to do so: It feels like power. It feels like control. No problem--that's totally normal for us. And it's ineffective when it comes to creating sustained change.

We can choose to hold accountability differently. We can make it about learning. About growing. About evolving. For all parties involved. The energy WE bring to communicating another's requirement for change is the go-no go catalyst for the desired change to happen.

When we start holding ourselves accountable to that, and do so from love, curiosity, and personal responsibility, sustained change becomes possible.

It’s the Vulnerabold® thing to do.

*Helping People Change; Richard Boyatzis

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