Dave made me cry.
How fear, love, and the brain’s true intention changed how I lead and live
We were getting ready to attend an event.
You know the kind. The ones that sit just outside your comfort zone. New people. Big room. Eyes on you (and they never are , this is more being self conscious), everybody else has their own agenda internal head script running.) That invisible tension in the chest that says, “Don’t mess this up.”
And just before we walked into it, Dave said something.
He said,
“Your brain’s first intention is to love you. The opposite is how we react, fear.”
I cried.Not sobbing. Not public.Tears welled. The kind that sit just behind your eyes and don’t need explanation. Because he didn’t say it to be clever. He said it because it was true.
When love looks like fear
Our brain protects us.
That’s its job. That’s the internal system always on. It reads risk, scans for danger, keeps us alert.
It works fast, without checking if we need it to.
And when something feels uncertain or exposing, our brain doesn't whisper a calm, “You’ve got this.”
It jumps straight into, “Retreat. Step back. Hold the line.”
But here’s the thing we forget.
It’s not a flaw.
It’s not weakness.
It’s a built-in act of love.
The reaction that feels like fear is, in fact, the system caring for you the only way it knows how.And because it doesn’t speak in gentle encouragements, it speaks in flushes of heat. Panic. Tension. We misread that response as failure.
We assume:
“I’m not enough.”
“I can’t do this.”
“Why do I always fall apart?”
But what if every one of those moments is a form of love, misdelivered?
The quiet retreat
That day, I felt it again.
The subtle retreat. Not in body language. In energy. In voice. A pulling back inside myself. All the things I don’t wear on my sleeve came up. Grief. Loss. Past estrangement. Moments I’ve been rejected or judged or overlooked.
They never shout. They wait in the wings. And when I’m tired, or uncertain, or visible in a way that feels raw,
they step into the spotlight and say, “It’s safer to step back. And from the outside? You wouldn’t notice.
I’m not a wallflower. I’m present. I’m there., yet something inside me softens into silence. Just enough to avoid being fully seen.
The double life of leadership
When I’m coaching, I’m out there.
Clear. Intentional. Fully present with the person in front of me, and when reflection swings back to me, when someone asks me to bring myself into the conversation, there’s a different response. A quieter resistance.
This happens to more of us than we admit.
I’ve seen it in leaders who hold space for everyone else, but never themselves.
In managers who support their teams and then question their own value at 2am.
In business owners who shine in meetings and collapse in private.
These aren’t contradictions.They’re systems doing what they’ve always done. And it doesn’t mean anything is broken. It means your brain is doing its work. Keeping you safe in the only way it has learned how.
This is what and. is really about
This is where our stuck, solve, simplify, thrive model breathes.
You’re stuck in a fear-led pattern you might not even recognise.
You solve it when you pause long enough to ask, “What’s really happening here?”
You simplify it by seeing the pattern not as failure, but as protection.
And you thrive by acting from that understanding, not from shame or shutdown.
This is what we talk about when we say this work is internal first. It’s not about performing better. It’s about responding differently, because you understand what’s going on under the surface.
Flip it
When you feel that heat rise. When your body pulls back. When your thoughts spiral into doubt or withdrawal…
Don’t ask, “Why am I like this?” Ask,
“What is my brain doing for me right now?”
And then flip it.
If it wants you to hide, maybe it’s giving you time to ground.
If it’s creating distance, maybe it’s setting a boundary.
If it’s making you quiet, maybe it’s offering stillness.
The flip isn’t about pretending something is good when it isn’t. It’s about seeing the core intention behind the action. And it’s usually protection. Not sabotage. Not failure. Not weakness.
Why it mattered so much
Dave didn’t say it to fix me. He said it because he knows the landscape. He’s seen it in clients. He’s seen it in leaders. He’s seen it in me. And in himself.
That comment, so simple, landed because it didn’t tell me to do anything. It just gave me the truth. That my brain, in its most instinctive way, was loving me. Even if I didn’t like the form it took.
And in that moment, I stopped being ashamed of the retreat. I just noticed it. And stayed in the room.
Final thought
You don’t need to build a whole new life to work with this. You just need to pay attention. When the fear rises, ask
“What is this really about?”
“Is this protection?”
“What would it look like to choose love, not reaction, in this moment?”
Then breathe. Pause. And choose again.
PS.
If this landed with you, don’t go looking for something new. You already have everything:
The Human AI Encyclopaedia is full of truths like this. Documented from real life, not made up for effect.
The Starter Kit helps you see where your responses are doing something for you, so you can choose clearly.
The Prompt Tool is there when you need better questions in place of self-judgment.
No fixing.
Just space.
Just honesty.
Just returning to yourself, clearly and simply.
