How You Build (or Break) Self‑Trust with Every Choice
You’ve told yourself you’ll start fresh on Monday, only to watch that promise fray by Wednesday.
You’ve tried the strict food rules, the perfect plan, or the all‑or‑nothing challenge. One wobble and the inner critic declares it a failure. You’re left wondering why it seems so hard to do what you say you’ll do.
You’re not broken. You’re human. Self‑trust isn’t something you either have or don’t; it’s a relationship you build with yourself. And like any relationship, it’s built in small moments of honesty, consistency, and repair.
Lessons from a Pool Table
I didn’t first learn about self‑trust in a gym or on a trail. I learned it in my mid‑twenties, standing over a pool table in a local billiards hall a short walk from culinary school.
On paper, it was meant to be relaxing. I’d enjoyed playing snooker and 8‑ball as a teenager, so I joined the local 8‑ball and 9‑ball league, thinking it would be a great way to de‑stress from the rigours of school. Instead, all my anxieties and life stress showed up with me at the table.
I’d over‑strike the ball. I’d make silly errors with aim, positioning, or spin. I was often rushing from shot to shot, and my game suffered. Even when I was doing well, a new kind of anxiety would creep in. The closer I got to winning, the more my nerves spiked. Golfers have a similar phenomenon with putting and call it “the yips.” That was me. When mistakes happened, I was furious with myself, cursing my stupidity, lack of control, and lack of talent.
With time, deliberate practice, and some generous coaching from others in the league, things shifted. I started focusing less on the outcome of winning and more on the process of each shot, and even each component of each shot: seeing the angle, placing my feet, setting my bridge, breathing, and making a smooth stroke. If I rushed, I reset. If I missed, I learned and moved on. I also worked on my self‑talk so I wasn’t beating myself down when things got tough. My play became calmer and more controlled. I found myself in a better space physically, emotionally, and mentally, and really experienced a kind of flow state in my play.
That lesson followed me out of the billiards hall. It showed up in training. It showed up on trails. It showed up in coaching. It showed up in LIFE. Because self‑trust isn’t an abstract personal quality. It’s something we build or break, one choice at a time, through what we practise and the way we speak to ourselves while we do it.
What Self‑Trust Means in Real Life
For me, self‑trust has two pieces that reinforce each other.
1) Confidence in your ability to handle the task at hand.
This is built through repetition and mindful progression. You practise, you refine, and occasionally you push your limits to discover where the edge is. The gym, the trails, martial arts, a local sports league—these give you “recreational hardship,” a low‑risk place to practise effort, emotional regulation, and resilience so you can apply those qualities everywhere else.
2) The way you talk to yourself, especially when things get tough.
If your inner dialogue is harsh, every slip becomes proof you can’t be trusted. If it’s constructive, the same slip becomes information. You adjust and keep going. Shakespeare wasn’t writing about gym sessions when he said, “For there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” Still, it fits. The thought you attach to an event changes its meaning and your next choice.
Both pieces matter. Skill without supportive self‑talk collapses into perfectionism. Kindness without skill drifts into wishful thinking. Together, they create steadiness.
The Quiet Ways We Break Self‑Trust
There are obvious ways like saying you’ll go to the gym and not going, but the quiet ones do the most damage.
Unrealistic expectations – Setting the bar at an unlivable height and calling it “discipline.” Six hard sessions a week, immaculate food choices, faultless sleep, and total life control…until life happens. When the plan collapses, you don’t blame the plan; you blame yourself.
Outcome obsession – Only counting a day as “good” if the scale dropped, the run was faster, or the workout was a personal best. You ignore the process that gets you those outcomes, then feel lost on days without fireworks.
Negative self‑talk – This is the most corrosive, because it feeds off and amplifies the others. You don’t just miss a session; you decide you lack willpower. You don’t just eat differently at a family dinner; you declare the week ruined. The critic gets louder, and the gap between intention and action widens.
All‑or‑nothing thinking – If it can’t be perfect, it doesn’t count. This turns a single decision into a spiral, and that spiral becomes the story you tell about yourself.
These habits are common. They’re also fixable.
Building Self‑Trust, One Choice at a Time
Self‑trust is trainable. It’s built the same way you build strength: small, repeatable reps that compound.
I learned it at the pool table when I moved away from winning at all costs and towards the process of a single shot. The same is true for training and nutrition. Judge less by outcome for a while. Judge more by showing up for the work.
And I’ve seen it powerfully in clients.
One client came to me after working with another coach who was a former figure athlete. From that background, the coach employed a very strict, restrictive diet, eating multiple small meals of very limited variety throughout the day. Overall intake, the variety of foods and how they were prepared all were very strictly limited, and she was scolded for any deviation from the plan. “You must not want it (weight loss) enough if you’re not willing to stick to the plan 100%” was the message that was reinforced over and over.
But see, this firecracker of a woman wanted it SO BAD. She had spent a lifetime watching her weight and chasing an unrealistic ideal, embodied by people like the former figure athlete and airbrushed and photoshopped fashion and fitness models. Her default food choices, both then and to this day, make most people’s daily eating look like reckless indulgence. For her, having a latte or (heaven forbid!) eating a piece of fruit was a source of anxiety and self‑recrimination rather than pleasure or enjoyment.
She came to me convinced she was sabotaging herself with what were, in truth, perfectly normal choices. I hate to even call them “indulgences,” but to her they felt like proof she lacked self-control. She was beating herself up over them constantly. Her whole existence around food was built on restriction and fear. It was exhausting.
It took a LOT of practice and conscious effort for her to let go of that negative self‑talk. A big part of my messaging in working with her was reminding her that she was not someone who would just sit down and mindlessly plough through a tub of ice cream or inhale a family size bag of chips. What she had been thinking of as “indulgences” were, in fact, totally OK and healthy to have on a regular basis. She could TRUST HERSELF and trust her body’s signals when it came to food.
It wasn’t easy, and it didn’t happen overnight, but with time and patience, we got to a place where she sent me this message:
“I just want you to know that this is the first time in my life where my food anxiety is at a 2–3 out of 10, and the relief I feel is incredible. I am so grateful for how I am feeling today.”
That’s what rebuilding self‑trust looks like on the ground. Not fireworks. Relief. Freedom. A quiet pride that says, I don’t need to live under this dark cloud anymore.
Why Process Beats Perfection
It’s tempting to chase perfect execution because the results feel cleaner. But the cost is high. Perfection turns every deviation into a moral failure. It turns food into a test you can only fail. It turns training into punishment.
Process gives you a better target. Did you show up for the tiny promise you set? Did you breathe and reset when you felt rushed? Did you make a next best choice when the perfect one wasn’t possible? Those are the wins that compound.
A helpful way to think about it:
Perfection asks: Did I nail everything?
Process asks: What did I practise today?
The second question builds skill and steadiness. Over time, outcomes improve anyway, because you’re finally doing the things that lead to them.
Practical Ways to Start Rebuilding Today
Let’s move from idea to action. These are small, doable steps that build trust quickly without turning your life upside down.
Make one tiny promise you can keep daily
James Clear captured this well in his weekly newsletter when he said:
“If you want to do something consistently, then don't pick a level of difficulty that requires great motivation.
Make it easy enough and simple enough that you'll do it even when you don't feel very motivated."
You don’t need a heroic plan. You need one small promise you keep when the day is ordinary.
Examples:
Ten‑minute purposeful walk.
Glass of water before coffee.
One palm‑sized portion of lean protein at lunch.
Five minutes of gentle mobility while the kettle boils.
Track process, not perfection
Seven boxes for seven days. Tick the box when you keep your promise. If you miss, draw an arrow to tomorrow. No drama.
Practise better self‑talk in real time
Catch the critic, then swap the script:
Instead of “I’m hopeless,” try “That was a wobble. What would help the next rep?”
Instead of “I ruined today,” try “That wasn’t ideal. What’s the next right choice?”
Instead of “I can’t stick to anything,” try “I can keep one small promise now.”
Use low‑risk practice grounds
Whether at the gym, on the trails, in the pool, practicing martial arts, or even billiards. Choose a small challenge, breathe, finish. You’re rehearsing resilience where consequences are low so you can use it when stakes are high.
Design beats willpower
Make the good thing the easy thing:
Keep a carton of Greek yogurt, can of tuna, cooked chicken, or other quick proteins within reach.
Leave your walking shoes by the door.
Set a wind‑down reminder for sleep.
Keep a default “busy night” meal ready to go (eggs + veg, pre‑cooked meat + salad).
Use “minimum viable progress”
On rough days, your win is the smallest action that moves you one step forward:
No time for a full session? Do the warm‑up.
No energy for the run? Walk the route.
Dinner off plan? Anchor the next meal with protein and colour.
Missed a day? Restart tomorrow without negotiation.
Review the week with compassion
Three questions:
What worked that I can keep?
Where did I struggle, and what small change would help?
What win did I almost ignore?
Build capacity slowly
When your tiny promise is automatic, make it slightly bigger or add a second one. Let success, not guilt, set the pace.
Mistakes to Avoid (Supportive, Not Scolding)
Going too big to “make up for lost time” – You don’t need to repay a debt. You need a rhythm you can keep.
Turning a data point into an identity – A missed session is a missed session. It’s not a character flaw.
Shame as a strategy – Shame might drive short‑term compliance. It erodes long‑term trust.
Waiting for motivation – Motivation is like the weather. Design is like architecture. Build the structure that holds in all seasons.
Outcome‑only scorecards – If the only win you count is the number on the scale or the stopwatch, you’ll ignore the very behaviours that change those numbers.
How the Two Pillars Reinforce Each Other
It helps to see the loop.
Kinder self‑talk keeps you showing up when the slope is gentle.
Showing up gives you evidence that you’re reliable.
Evidence strengthens the voice that says you can do hard things.
That voice makes it easier to practise and improve skills.
Better skills create more wins, which reinforce the kind self‑talk.
Round and round, in a direction that serves you. The reverse loop is also true: harsh self‑talk makes it harder to show up, which starves you of evidence, which makes the critic louder. Building self‑trust is choosing which loop to feed.
Bringing It Back to Everyday Life
Training
Base the week on repeatable sessions rather than heroics. Two or three strength sessions that train full‑range movements. Purposeful walking most days. One session that’s easy on purpose so you finish with fuel in the tank.
Food
Anchor each meal with protein and colour. Plan a “busy night” back‑up so dinner isn’t a coin toss. Allow foods you enjoy on purpose, and call them decisions, not downfalls.
Sleep and Recovery
Protect a modest evening routine. Aim for consistency more than perfection. Remind yourself that recovery isn’t a reward; it’s where adaptation happens.
Work and Relationships
Use the same tiny‑promise model. One focused block of writing before checking email. One clear conversation you’ve been avoiding. One small repair where you dropped the ball. This is the same muscle.
Reflection Prompts (Optional, but Powerful)
It can help to ask yourself these questions from time to time:
Where have I kept my word to myself recently, even in a small way?
What story do I tell myself after a slip, and what story would be more helpful?
What does “better, not perfect” look like in my next meal or my next session?
What tiny promise could I keep for seven days straight?
Where can I make the good choice easier by changing my environment?
Choice, Relief, and Freedom
The most important first step is recognising that you don’t have to keep being, doing, or saying the things that brought you here.
At any point, you can choose differently.
You can decide to move forward with more kindness, more resilience, and a more adaptable mindset in your health and fitness, in your relationships, in your work, or simply in life as a whole.
And when you begin to make those different choices, the first feeling isn’t usually empowerment or motivation. It’s relief.
Relief that you no longer have to pass an impossible test to be “on track.” Relief that a good-enough choice counts. Relief that you can practise instead of perform.
That relief is what opens the door to freedom. Freedom to enjoy a latte or a piece of fruit without turning it into evidence of failure. Freedom to call a ten-minute walk a victory on a day that tried to knock you over. Freedom to trust that imperfect action is still progress.
Every choice you make is a vote for the story you’ll live in tomorrow. You don’t need grand gestures to change that story. You need one promise you can keep today, then another tomorrow, and a kinder voice to carry you through.
Stack enough of those choices and one day you’ll notice the critic has gone quiet. You’ll feel the steady confidence of someone who can trust themselves. And when life asks, “Can you handle this?” you’ll know the answer: “Yes. I’ve got this.”
If you’d like help turning these ideas into a routine that fits your real life, you’re welcome to get in touch. If today is simply about keeping one small promise, I’m cheering for you.
Tick the box.
Draw the arrow to tomorrow if you miss.
Keep going.
Your future self will be glad you did.