The Discomfort of Being a Beginner
Almost every Saturday, I log on to an Italian language meetup to practice speaking Italian. It's online, low-stakes, and filled with people who love the language. Still, during one recent session, I found myself spiraling.
I was the only beginner in the group, and after about thirty minutes of struggling to form basic sentences while everyone else chatted fluidly, something shifted in me. No one was unkind. But they weren’t exactly inclusive either, and I started to feel invisible. I could hear the old voice creeping in: You’re not good enough. You’re in the way. You don’t belong here.
In that moment, I wasn’t just fumbling with Italian. I was face-to-face with a much older wound: the fear of being unseen, disliked or inadequate. It was a trauma response that had nothing to do with the Italian meetup and everything to do with my nervous system. I went into what’s known as an amygdala hijack—a state where fear takes the wheel and rational thinking goes out the window. I froze. And I seriously considered logging off and never coming back.
And here’s the thing: I know I’m not alone.
For so many of us, being a beginner doesn’t just feel frustrating. It feels unsafe. Because somewhere along the line, we learned that “not knowing” made us vulnerable to shame, embarrassment, or rejection.
I’ve seen this dynamic play out in my coaching clients, too. I’m constantly meeting people who stay in jobs they’ve outgrown, avoid new hobbies they might love, or stop themselves from taking on leadership roles because deep down, they’re afraid to be seen “learning out loud”. We don't want to be witnessed while we're shaky. We want to be polished before we ever show up.
But life doesn’t work like that. Growth doesn’t work like that. And healing definitely doesn’t work like that.
A family member of mine used to panic when something didn’t work right away. Whether it was a subway turnstile or a tech issue, one small hiccup could derail the whole plan. I used to get so frustrated, wondering why they couldn’t just calm down and stick with it. Now I understand. It wasn’t about the glitch; it was about what the glitch triggered: the shame, the fear, the perceived threat, not just of failing, but of being a failure.
These inherited responses can shape everything from how we handle a new skill to how we navigate change, or show up in a team meeting. But they don’t have to define us. Awareness is the first step. Compassion is the second. And practice—the messy, courageous, not-yet-perfect kind—is what helps us build new experiences of safety.
So, if you’ve been putting something off because you’re afraid of being a beginner, I get it. Truly. But what if being a beginner and experiencing the sometimes not-so-great feelings that come with it, aren’t a sign that you’re failing; they’re a sign that you’re expanding?
There’s no growth without awkward starts, and no mastery without missteps. And sometimes, showing up, even *no, especially* when it feels hard, is the most powerful thing we can do.
