Repeat after me: "My talents aren't my own."

Treat them like they belong to someone else.

Without knowing you, I can make a guarantee about a personal part of your life.

Ready?

You’re too hard on yourself.

Today, we’re going to fix that.

I was chatting with a friend at a coffee shop last week about the challenges of running a business:

• ”My writing isn’t good enough.”

• “I feel pressure to live up to expectations.”

• “I don’t think I’m doing everything I could be.”

In a sentence, she tamed that circus of fears.

“𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝘄𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺?”

Most of us follow the same principle: Treat other peoples’ possessions better than you treat your own.

If a friend lets you borrow their truck, you’re going to put your phone in the center console, keep your eyes on the road, and place your white knuckles at 10-and-2.

You're going to make sure it doesn’t get dented and maybe even return it with a full tank of gas — in better shape than you found it.

You’re not the owner of the truck. You’re a steward of it.

𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀?

It’s a hard concept to internalize because your talents are twisted into your DNA and woven into your self-identity.

And you probably didn’t wake up one day with those talents. You developed them, silently and invisibly, day over day. When others see them, they’re obvious. But to you, your talents are just who you are.

But what if they weren’t who you are?

What if your talents were just being lent to you?

What if they belonged to someone else?

Would you treat them so harshly?

Or would you take care of them?

When you act as the owner of your talents, they’re never enough.

They’re yours, so you can break them down and hastily glue them back together before it’s time to show them off.

You can lament how they’re not good enough. You can worry that you’re not using them to the fullest. Instead of letting them lift you up, you let them drag you down. As the owner, you feel like it’s your responsibility to buff out their imperfections.

But if you were just borrowing your talents from someone else, they'd amaze you.

You’d revel in the temporary delight of being able to sing or write or exercise at a level that 99% of the world will never achieve.

You’d treat those talents with care, you’d marvel at how they impacted your life, and you might even do what you could do to gently improve them before it was time to return them to their owner.

You’d stop being so hard on yourself — and you’d be grateful for the opportunity to live with such a gift.

You are not the owner of your talents.

You are just a steward of them.

Treat them with care, with respect, and with kindness.

And they’ll do the same for you.