Belief doesn't make something true. But it can change what we're willing to do.
I recently made a video about the difference between beliefs and truth. Specifically, I was talking about how the things we believe about ourselves can influence what we're capable of accomplishing. Afterward, I found myself thinking that I needed to clarify something.
When I encourage people to believe in themselves, I'm not suggesting that simply believing something makes it true. That's not how life works.
I can't stand on the first tee of a golf course, declare that I'm a scratch golfer, and suddenly possess the skills of one. I can believe it as strongly as I want, but the scorecard is eventually going to tell the truth. There's a difference between believing you're capable of something and actually demonstrating that capability, and I think understanding that difference is important.
Because the real power of belief isn't that it magically changes reality. The power of belief is that it can change the way we approach reality.
The Stories We Tell Ourselves
Over nearly thirty years of teaching, I've heard countless students tell me they're not good at math. Some say it casually. Others say it with genuine frustration.
"I'm terrible at math."
"I'm just not a math person."
"I can't do this."
What concerns me isn't necessarily their current level of mathematical ability. It's the certainty with which they've decided that their current ability represents their permanent limitations.
Somewhere along the way, they've taken an experience and turned it into an identity. They struggled with something, perhaps repeatedly, and concluded that struggling was evidence of who they were rather than where they were in the learning process.
Once they begin to believe they're simply not good at math, their behavior often follows that belief. Why put in extra effort if you're convinced it won't make a difference? Why ask questions if you already believe you're incapable of understanding the answers? Why persist through frustration if you've decided that success isn't possible?
The belief becomes a barrier to the very actions that might prove it wrong.
And I don't think this happens only in mathematics. We do this to ourselves in all kinds of situations. We tell ourselves we're not athletic, we're not creative, we're not good at public speaking, or we're not capable of learning something new.
Sometimes those beliefs are based on real experiences. We've tried something and struggled. But there's a significant difference between acknowledging that we're not currently good at something and deciding that we never will be.
One describes our present ability. The other attempts to predict our future. We should be careful about confusing the two.
Belief Isn't Evidence
Here's where I think some conversations about positive thinking miss the mark.
We're sometimes encouraged to replace negative beliefs with positive affirmations. Instead of saying, "I'm terrible at golf," we're told to say, "I'm a great golfer."
But what if we're not? What if the evidence doesn't support that statement?
I don't think pretending to possess abilities we haven't developed is particularly helpful. Confidence that isn't grounded in reality can be fragile. Eventually, we're going to encounter circumstances that challenge it, and when we do, simply repeating that we're great at something isn't going to help us very much.
What we need is a different kind of belief. Not the belief that we've already achieved something, but the belief that we're capable of improving through effort, learning, and practice.
That's a belief we can act upon. More importantly, it's a belief we can begin to support with evidence.
The Power of One Little Word
Years ago, I began encouraging students to add a simple word to the end of statements about things they couldn't do.
Yet.
"I can't do math" becomes "I can't do math…yet."
"I don't understand this" becomes "I don't understand this…yet."
"I'm not very good at this" becomes "I'm not very good at this…yet."
It's a small change in language, but I think it represents a significant change in perspective. When a student says, "I can't do this," the statement sounds final. It suggests that the question has been answered and the matter is settled. Adding "yet" introduces the possibility of change. It acknowledges the current difficulty without treating that difficulty as permanent.
I think that's incredibly important because we're all works in progress. None of us arrived in this world knowing how to do the things we're capable of doing today. We learned, practiced, struggled, made mistakes, and hopefully improved. The word "yet" reminds us that the process isn't necessarily finished.
Of course, adding the word doesn't guarantee success. Some things require opportunities, resources, or abilities we may not have. But it can keep us from declaring defeat before we've given ourselves a reasonable opportunity to improve.
Give Yourself Some Evidence
This is where I think belief and truth begin to work together.
If a student believes they're incapable of learning mathematics, I don't think the solution is simply to convince them they're brilliant. I think the solution is to help them experience improvement.
Give them something challenging but achievable. Help them understand it. Let them practice and struggle a little. Then let them recognize that they can now do something they couldn't do before.
That's evidence. Not evidence that they're suddenly a mathematical genius, but evidence that their ability isn't fixed. Evidence that effort, combined with effective strategies and instruction, can produce improvement.
As that evidence accumulates, their belief about themselves can begin to change. They no longer have to rely on somebody else telling them they're capable. They've experienced it, and they know it.
That's the kind of confidence I want young people to develop. Not confidence built on praise alone, or on pretending that everything is easy, but confidence built on the experience of becoming capable.
I believe that's a much more durable foundation for self-esteem.
Be Kind to Yourself, but Be Honest
There's another important part of this that I think we sometimes overlook. The way we talk to ourselves matters.
I've heard people say things about themselves that I doubt they would ever say to somebody they cared about.
"I'm an idiot."
"I suck at everything."
"I'm never going to figure this out."
I wonder what purpose those statements serve. They certainly don't help us understand what went wrong, identify a strategy for improvement, or encourage us to keep working. They simply reinforce a negative conclusion about ourselves.
I don't think being kind to ourselves means ignoring our shortcomings or pretending we're better than we are. I think it means being honest about where we are without being unnecessarily cruel about it.
Instead of "I'm terrible at this," try "I'm working on this." Instead of "I'll never figure it out," try "I haven't figured it out yet." Instead of "I'm a failure," try "That didn't go the way I wanted. What can I learn from it?"
These aren't empty affirmations. They're honest statements that recognize both our present limitations and our capacity for growth. They allow us to acknowledge difficulty without allowing the temporary setbacks that difficulty causes to define us.
Belief Should Lead to Action
Ultimately, I think this is the most important part of the conversation. Believing you can improve is valuable because of what that belief can lead you to do.
It might encourage you to practice a little longer, ask another question, seek help, try a different approach, or return to something difficult instead of walking away from it. Those actions create opportunities for improvement, and improvement provides evidence that reinforces the belief.
It's a cycle. Belief encourages action. Action creates opportunities to learn and grow. Growth provides evidence. And evidence strengthens belief.
But we have to participate in the process. We can't simply declare ourselves capable and expect capability to appear. We have to develop it, and we have to be willing to spend some time being less than good at something before we become better at it.
That's not failure. That's learning.
You Can Get There From Here
One of the messages I've tried to communicate throughout my teaching and coaching career is that where you are today doesn't have to determine where you'll be tomorrow.
Your current ability is real. Your limitations may be real. Your struggles are certainly real. But none of those things necessarily represent the end of your story.
I think we do ourselves a tremendous disservice when we turn temporary difficulties into permanent beliefs about who we are.
So the next time you catch yourself saying, "I'm terrible at this," consider changing the statement. Not to "I'm great at this," but to "I'm working on this."
And then do the work.
Give yourself opportunities to improve. Pay attention to the progress you make, even when that progress seems small. Build evidence that supports a more constructive belief about yourself.
Because the goal isn't to convince yourself that you've already become the person you want to be. The goal is to believe that becoming that person is worth working toward, and to recognize that you're capable of making progress along the way.
You don't have to be there yet. You just have to be willing to begin.
You can get there from here.