Lessons from "The Confidence Gap: A Guide to Overcoming Fear and Self-Doubt" by Russ Harris

 Isn’t it strange how we treat confidence like a passport—something we must acquire before we’re allowed to travel into new territories of opportunity? We stand at the threshold of possibility, gripping the railings of self-doubt, waiting for a surge of certainty to propel us forward. But what if confidence isn’t the prerequisite we think it is? What if everything we believe about it is completely backward? This is the provocative premise of The Confidence Gap by Russ Harris, a book so startling in its revelations that it feels like a magician yanking the curtain back on an illusion we’ve spent our entire lives believing.

The shock comes from how fundamentally counterintuitive its argument is: confidence does not precede action—it follows it. This is not the feel-good, pep-talk version of self-help we’ve been sold, the one that says we just need to believe in ourselves, visualize success, or silence our inner critic before we take the plunge. No, Harris delivers a far more unsettling but ultimately liberating truth—fear and self-doubt are not barriers to confidence; they are its very foundation. Confidence is not a state of mind we must achieve before we dare to act. It is built in motion, forged in discomfort, and tempered by the very uncertainty we try so hard to eliminate.

Think of it like learning to swim. A child standing at the edge of a pool, terrified of the water, will not gain confidence by sitting on the deck, waiting for the fear to dissolve. No matter how much they visualize swimming, how many affirmations they whisper, or how many times they are reassured, their confidence will not materialize until they step into the water, flail, struggle, and discover—through action—that they can float. And yet, in nearly every other aspect of life, we do the opposite. We sit on the sidelines of our ambitions, waiting to feel ready, hoping for a wave of assurance that never comes.

Harris dismantles this self-imposed paralysis with an approach rooted in Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), an evidence-based psychological framework that flips conventional wisdom on its head. He exposes how the very strategies we use to rid ourselves of fear—suppression, avoidance, over-analysis—are precisely what keep us stuck. Confidence is not the absence of fear, nor is it a gift reserved for the naturally bold. It is a skill, a process, a muscle that strengthens only through use.

Consider the world’s greatest performers, from athletes to actors to public speakers. We assume they are fearless, but talk to them and you’ll hear a different story. Meryl Streep, with her staggering career and 21 Academy Award nominations, still battles self-doubt before every role. Usain Bolt, the fastest man on Earth, has admitted to pre-race nerves so intense they make him nauseous. The difference between them and those who hesitate is not an absence of fear—it is the willingness to move forward despite it.

This is the confidence gap: the space between fear and action, where most of us hesitate, waiting for the perfect moment, the right mindset, the assurance that we won’t fail. But as Harris reveals, the bridge across this gap is not built with more self-belief; it is built with movement. Through personal anecdotes, scientific insights, and practical exercises, he guides readers through a radical shift in perspective—one that doesn’t demand we banish fear, but rather learn to carry it with us, like an old traveling companion, as we step boldly into the unknown.

So, if you’ve ever felt paralyzed by self-doubt, if you’ve watched opportunities pass you by because you didn’t feel “ready,” if you’ve assumed that confidence is something other people just have—prepare to be unsettled. Because everything you thought you knew about confidence is about to change.

Confidence is often portrayed as a kind of magic elixir, a secret ingredient that transforms ordinary people into extraordinary achievers. We imagine confident individuals striding into rooms, making decisive choices, delivering eloquent speeches, and seizing opportunities without hesitation. They seem to possess an effortless ease, a certainty that shields them from doubt. But is this really what confidence is? Or is it just a well-rehearsed illusion, a trick of perception rather than a true internal state?

Russ Harris argues that our understanding of confidence is deeply flawed. We have been conditioned to see it as an emotional prerequisite, a feeling we must cultivate before we dare to act. But in reality, confidence is not something you have before taking action—it is something you develop through action. This is perhaps one of the most jarring truths in The Confidence Gap, because it challenges a fundamental belief that has shaped our behavior for years. We assume that we need to feel confident before we step onto the stage, before we speak up in a meeting, before we start that business, before we take any kind of risk. But the truth is, confidence is built through repeated exposure to discomfort, not through its avoidance.

To understand this, consider the difference between a seasoned performer and a nervous beginner. Picture a comedian stepping onto a stage for the first time, palms sweaty, voice trembling, their mind racing with thoughts of failure. Now, contrast this with a veteran comedian, someone who commands the audience effortlessly, riding the rhythm of laughter with perfect timing. It is tempting to think that the seasoned performer was simply born confident, that they possessed a natural gift that set them apart from the beginning. But ask any professional in any field, and they will tell you the same thing: their confidence was built through experience. They bombed on stage. They endured silence when jokes failed. They confronted the awkwardness of their own imperfections. And through that repeated exposure, they learned that fear doesn’t disappear—it just loses its power.

This is the paradox of confidence: it is not the absence of fear but the willingness to move forward in its presence. Harris refers to this as the confidence gap—the space between fear and action where so many people get stuck. We wait for the day when we will feel “ready,” yet that day never arrives. The hard truth is, no amount of waiting will ever make us feel fully prepared, because confidence is not a state of being; it is a byproduct of doing.

To fully grasp this, we must dismantle some of the myths that surround confidence. First, there is the idea that confident people don’t experience fear. This is demonstrably false. Everyone—from world-class athletes to CEOs to seasoned public speakers—feels fear. The difference is that they have learned to coexist with it. They do not let fear dictate their actions. Instead, they acknowledge it, accept it, and move forward in spite of it.

Second, there is the belief that confidence is a fixed trait, something you either have or you don’t. This could not be further from the truth. Confidence is a skill, much like playing an instrument or learning a language. It must be cultivated through practice. The more we expose ourselves to discomfort, the more our brain adapts, learning that what once seemed terrifying is, in fact, manageable.

Third, and perhaps most damaging, is the belief that self-doubt is a sign of inadequacy. Harris dismantles this myth with a simple yet powerful insight: self-doubt is universal. It is not a signal to stop but a natural response to growth. In fact, the very presence of self-doubt is often an indication that we are pushing ourselves beyond our comfort zone, stepping into the territory where true confidence is built.

To illustrate this, consider the story of Sara Blakely, the billionaire founder of Spanx. Before she became one of the most successful female entrepreneurs in the world, she was a door-to-door fax machine salesperson, constantly facing rejection. When she first had the idea for Spanx, she was riddled with doubt. She had no experience in fashion, no business degree, and no investors backing her. But instead of waiting to feel confident, she acted despite her uncertainty. She took the first step—patenting her idea—and then the next—pitching it to manufacturers. At every stage, self-doubt followed her like a shadow. But through action, she built resilience, and with resilience came confidence.

This is what Harris wants us to understand: confidence is not the starting point. It is the result of courageous action, repeated over time. The irony is that the very thing we believe we need in order to take risks—confidence—is actually the thing we gain by taking them. And once we grasp this truth, the way we approach fear, failure, and self-doubt will never be the same.

Fear and self-doubt are like uninvited guests at the party of life—persistent, unwelcome, and seemingly determined to ruin all the fun. They whisper in our ears at the worst moments, convincing us that we’re not ready, not capable, not worthy. They tighten our throats before a big presentation, make our hands tremble before we hit "publish" on our work, and freeze our feet at the edge of opportunity. Most of us spend our lives trying to banish them, believing that if we could just get rid of fear and self-doubt, we’d finally be free to pursue our goals with ease. But what if the real problem isn’t their presence, but our relationship with them?

Russ Harris delivers a wake-up call in The Confidence Gap: fear and self-doubt are not obstacles to confidence—they are the proving grounds of it. The very emotions we assume must disappear before we take action are, in fact, essential to the process. Confidence is not the absence of fear; it is the willingness to move forward despite it. The problem is, most of us have been taught the exact opposite. We’ve been conditioned to believe that fear is a warning sign, that self-doubt is proof of inadequacy, and that the truly successful people in the world have somehow figured out how to live without these emotions. Nothing could be further from the truth.

To understand this, consider the story of every great inventor, entrepreneur, or artist who ever dared to create something meaningful. Take J.K. Rowling, for instance. Before she became the world’s most successful author, she was a struggling single mother, rejected by twelve publishers, filled with doubt about whether anyone would care about a boy wizard named Harry. Imagine if she had listened to those doubts, if she had interpreted them as proof that she wasn’t good enough. The same could be said for Elon Musk, whose companies have teetered on the edge of bankruptcy multiple times, or Oprah Winfrey, who was fired from her first TV job because she was told she "wasn’t fit for television." The pattern is always the same: fear and self-doubt show up, but those who succeed do not allow them to dictate their actions.

The trouble is, most of us do. We assume that feeling afraid means we should stop. We wait for self-doubt to subside before we take risks. We let our emotions become gatekeepers, determining whether we move forward or stay put. This is what Harris calls the confidence gap: the space between fear and action where most people remain stuck. We wait for the day when we will feel ready, when our nerves will disappear, when we will be sure of success. But that day never comes, because fear and self-doubt are not temporary hurdles to be cleared—they are lifelong companions on the road to achievement.

Understanding this requires us to challenge some of the biggest myths about fear. The first and most destructive is the belief that fear is a sign of weakness. This is nonsense. Fear is not a flaw—it is biology. It is an ancient survival mechanism, hardwired into our brains to keep us safe. Thousands of years ago, fear kept us from walking too close to a cliff or venturing into a predator’s territory. But in the modern world, where threats are less about physical danger and more about social and professional risk, our brains still respond the same way. A job interview, a business pitch, or a public speech triggers the same fight-or-flight response as being chased by a tiger. Our heart races, our palms sweat, our breath quickens. And because we misunderstand these sensations, we assume they mean something is wrong. But they don’t. They simply mean we’re stepping outside our comfort zone—which, ironically, is exactly where confidence is built.

Another damaging myth is the idea that fear impairs performance. While extreme fear can certainly be paralyzing, research suggests that moderate levels of anxiety actually enhance focus and performance. Athletes, actors, and musicians all know this. They embrace pre-game jitters, stage fright, and nervous energy, understanding that these feelings heighten awareness and sharpen their skills. The goal is not to eliminate fear, but to work with it. The key difference between those who thrive and those who stagnate is not the presence or absence of fear—it is how they interpret it.

This leads to another crucial insight from The Confidence Gap: the way we talk to ourselves about fear and self-doubt matters more than the emotions themselves. Harris teaches that the words we attach to these feelings determine whether they control us or empower us. Saying, "I’m scared, so I must not be ready" is completely different from saying, "I’m scared, which means I’m about to do something meaningful." The fear doesn’t change—but its impact on our decisions does.

Harris offers a radical reframe: instead of fighting fear and self-doubt, what if we accepted them as normal parts of growth? What if, instead of resisting them, we carried them with us as we pursued our goals? Imagine fear and self-doubt as passengers in your car. Most people let them sit in the front seat, controlling the wheel, dictating the route. But what if you acknowledged them, let them exist, but kept them in the back seat—present, but not in control?

This is what the world’s most successful people do. They do not wait for self-doubt to vanish. They do not wait to feel "ready." They step forward despite fear, embracing discomfort as a necessary part of the journey. Confidence is not the absence of self-doubt—it is the courage to act in the face of it. And once we understand this, fear stops being an enemy and becomes what it was always meant to be: a sign that we’re on the right path.

If fear and self-doubt are inevitable companions on the road to confidence, how do we stop them from dictating our actions? This is where Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) comes in—a psychological framework that doesn’t try to eliminate fear, but instead teaches us how to coexist with it. Unlike traditional self-help approaches that focus on replacing negative thoughts with positive ones, ACT takes a radically different stance: it teaches us that our thoughts and emotions don’t need to be changed, controlled, or fought. Instead, they can be acknowledged, accepted, and ultimately, rendered powerless in their ability to hold us back.

Russ Harris builds The Confidence Gap around this framework, and its insights are as counterintuitive as they are effective. The central premise of ACT is that psychological suffering—whether it be fear, anxiety, or self-doubt—does not come from the presence of these emotions themselves, but from our resistance to them. The harder we fight our fears, the stronger they become. It’s like struggling in quicksand: the more you thrash, the deeper you sink. The only way out is to stop fighting, to relax into the discomfort, and to shift focus from the struggle to what truly matters—taking action toward your values.

To understand how ACT works in practice, imagine you’re standing on a bridge overlooking a rushing river, carrying thousands of leaves downstream. Each leaf represents a thought—some positive, some negative, many of them doubts, fears, or worries. Most people spend their lives trying to pluck the negative leaves from the river, analyzing them, wrestling with them, or trying to make them disappear. But ACT teaches a different approach: instead of grabbing at the leaves, simply notice them. Observe them floating by. Recognize that you are not your thoughts, just as you are not the river—you are the observer, standing on the bridge.

This process is known as cognitive defusion, one of ACT’s most powerful techniques. Defusion helps us create distance from our thoughts rather than being consumed by them. Instead of thinking, I’m a failure, which feels absolute and defining, you learn to reframe it as, I’m having the thought that I’m a failure. It seems like a small shift, but it’s revolutionary in practice. It strips the thought of its power, reminding you that just because your mind says something doesn’t mean it’s true.

But ACT goes even further. Another key principle is acceptance—the idea that instead of trying to rid ourselves of uncomfortable emotions, we should make space for them. This is the opposite of what most of us have been taught. Society tells us that if we feel anxious before a speech, we should "calm down." If we doubt ourselves before a big decision, we should "think positive." But ACT teaches that the more we try to suppress or control our emotions, the more they control us. True confidence comes not from eliminating fear, but from learning to carry it with us.

A powerful example of this is seen in elite athletes. Take Michael Phelps, the most decorated Olympian of all time. Before every race, he experiences intense nerves, sometimes to the point of nausea. But instead of trying to "get rid" of these feelings, he has learned to accept them as part of his process. He doesn’t fight the anxiety; he welcomes it. He knows it doesn’t mean he’s unprepared—it means he’s doing something important. This is the essence of ACT in action: shifting from a mindset of elimination to one of acceptance.

ACT also introduces the concept of values-based living. While most traditional confidence-building strategies focus on changing thoughts and emotions, ACT focuses on commitment—aligning your actions with your values, regardless of how you feel. Imagine two people afraid of public speaking. One says, "I’ll wait until I feel confident." The other says, "I value sharing knowledge, so I will speak even though I feel afraid." Who will grow more confident over time? The second person—because confidence isn’t built by waiting, but by doing.

A real-world example of this is Dr. Susan Jeffers, the author of Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway. She once admitted that despite writing an entire book on overcoming fear, she still felt terrified before public speeches. But instead of seeing this fear as a barrier, she saw it as a sign she was doing something worthwhile. She didn’t wait for her emotions to change—she acted in accordance with her values, and confidence followed.

Harris applies this principle throughout The Confidence Gap, urging us to identify our deepest values—curiosity, growth, creativity, connection, service—and use them as our compass. When we shift from a mindset of fear-avoidance to one of values-based action, we stop seeing fear as an enemy and start seeing it as proof that we’re on the right path.

Ultimately, the ACT framework is not about silencing the inner critic or feeling good all the time. It’s about learning to act boldly even when fear and doubt are screaming in our ears. Because the truth is, confidence is not a requirement for action—it is the result of it.

Imagine standing at the edge of a diving board, staring down at the water below. Your heart is pounding, your legs feel like lead, and every instinct tells you to step back. You tell yourself, I just need a little more confidence, then I’ll jump. But the longer you wait, the worse it gets. Your mind invents new fears—What if I slip? What if I land wrong? What if I look ridiculous?—and suddenly, what should have been a quick leap turns into an internal war.

This is the mistake most people make: they believe they need to feel confident before they act. But Russ Harris makes it abundantly clear in The Confidence Gap—confidence is not the cause of action; it is the result of it. The longer you wait for confidence to arrive, the further you drift from it. The only way to gain confidence is by doing the thing you’re afraid of, over and over, until your brain and body adjust.

This concept is both unsettling and liberating. It shatters the comforting illusion that confidence will magically appear if we wait long enough. But it also gives us a clear path forward: stop waiting, start acting. This is not about recklessness; it is about understanding that courage comes before confidence.

Consider how children learn to ride a bike. No child ever starts with confidence. They wobble, fall, scrape their knees. They are terrified, frustrated, and convinced they will never get it. But they keep trying. And something remarkable happens—confidence emerges after they have repeatedly faced the fear of falling, not before. The same principle applies to public speaking, entrepreneurship, leadership, or any skill that demands confidence.

Harris calls this the act first, feel later principle. The brain learns not through passive reassurance but through direct experience. You cannot think your way into confidence—you must prove to yourself, through action, that you can handle discomfort and uncertainty. This is why no amount of positive thinking, visualization, or self-affirmation will make you feel truly ready. Those techniques might provide a temporary boost, but real confidence is only forged in the fire of experience.

A powerful real-world example of this is Jamie Foxx. Long before he was an Oscar-winning actor, he was a struggling stand-up comedian. He once admitted in an interview that before going on stage, he would be so nervous that his hands would shake. But instead of waiting to feel confident, he trained himself to walk on stage despite the nerves. He did this so many times that his brain rewired itself—fear became background noise rather than a stop sign. He didn’t wait to feel like a great performer; he became one by stepping onto the stage over and over again.

Harris also points out that the biggest trap people fall into is the idea of needing to "prepare more" before they act. While preparation is important, it can easily become procrastination disguised as productivity. People convince themselves they need just one more course, one more book, one more certificate before they take action. But deep down, it’s not about being unprepared—it’s about avoiding discomfort.

Instead of endless preparation, Harris encourages the principle of psychological flexibility. This means being willing to feel fear, doubt, and discomfort while still taking meaningful action. Imagine a person who wants to start a business but is afraid of failing. Instead of waiting until they feel ready, they could take small steps—launch a test product, have a conversation with a potential customer, create a rough prototype. Each step teaches their brain that action is possible despite fear.

The takeaway is clear: confidence does not precede action—it follows it. If you wait until you feel confident, you will be waiting forever. But if you step forward despite fear, confidence will chase after you, slowly but surely, until one day you look back and realize you don’t need it anymore. Because you are already doing the thing you once thought was impossible.

Imagine a courtroom inside your mind. You’re on trial, accused of not being good enough. The prosecution—your inner critic—is relentless. It presents evidence from past failures, cross-examines your confidence, and calls expert witnesses named Fear and Self-Doubt to testify against you. The jury—also made up of your own thoughts—nods along. It feels like an open-and-shut case. The verdict? You’re not ready. You should wait. You should give up.

This is how most people experience their thoughts—like absolute truth. But what if this entire courtroom was just an illusion? What if the voice in your head wasn’t a judge delivering reality but just a commentator, like an overcaffeinated sports announcer throwing out opinions with no real authority? This is exactly what defusion teaches us—how to separate ourselves from our thoughts so they lose their grip over our actions.

Russ Harris introduces cognitive defusion in The Confidence Gap as one of the core techniques of Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT). Defusion is the process of stepping back from thoughts instead of becoming entangled in them. Instead of treating thoughts as absolute truth, we learn to see them as mere mental events—passing words, images, or sounds that do not define us. The goal is not to get rid of negative thoughts but to weaken their influence.

Think of it this way: imagine your mind is a radio, constantly broadcasting opinions. Some days, it plays uplifting messages—"You’ve got this!" Other days, it sounds like a harsh critic—"You’ll mess this up." Most people assume they have no choice but to listen, that the negative station is reality. But defusion teaches us that we can change how we interact with these broadcasts. Instead of taking every thought seriously, we can step back, observe them, and choose whether to engage or move on.

One of the simplest defusion techniques Harris suggests is to prefix thoughts with the phrase: "I’m having the thought that..." So instead of thinking "I’m going to fail," you say, "I’m having the thought that I’m going to fail." This small change is powerful because it shifts the thought from being a statement of fact to just a passing idea. It creates distance, breaking the illusion that every thought is reality.

Another technique is to give your inner critic a ridiculous voice. Imagine your self-doubt being narrated by a cartoon character—say, Donald Duck or a robot voice. If you take a step back and hear your inner critic saying, "You’re not good enough," but in a helium-pitched chipmunk voice, it suddenly loses its authority. It becomes absurd rather than intimidating.

Harris also suggests using the Leaves on a Stream exercise, a mindfulness visualization where you imagine each thought as a leaf floating down a river. You don’t try to change, analyze, or control the thoughts; you simply watch them drift by. This reinforces the idea that thoughts are temporary, not permanent truths.

Defusion is not about eliminating negative thoughts—that’s impossible. It’s about changing how we relate to them. Instead of letting them dictate our actions, we learn to acknowledge them without obedience. Imagine if every successful person listened to their self-doubt. Oprah isn’t good enough for TV. Einstein isn’t smart enough for science. Michael Jordan isn’t cut out for basketball. These thoughts likely crossed their minds. The difference is, they didn’t fuse with them. They heard the thoughts, but they acted anyway.

By mastering defusion, we take back control. We no longer have to argue with our minds, silence our fears, or wait for self-doubt to disappear. We simply let the thoughts come and go—like clouds in the sky—while we step forward, proving through action that confidence is not about believing everything our mind says. It’s about choosing which thoughts to listen to and which ones to let drift away.

Imagine holding a beach ball underwater. You press down with all your strength, trying to keep it submerged, but the harder you push, the more forcefully it fights back. Eventually, your arms tire, and the ball bursts to the surface, spraying water everywhere. This is exactly how most people deal with fear and self-doubt—they try to suppress, avoid, or fight against these emotions, only for them to resurface stronger than before.

Russ Harris argues in The Confidence Gap that the key to overcoming fear is not through resistance but through expansion and acceptance. While traditional self-help strategies focus on eliminating negative emotions, ACT teaches that trying to get rid of fear and self-doubt is like trying to stop the ocean’s waves. It’s a losing battle. Instead, true confidence comes from making room for these emotions—expanding our ability to hold discomfort—so they no longer dictate our actions.

To understand expansion, think of your emotional capacity like a balloon. A small balloon, when filled with fear and anxiety, quickly becomes stretched and overwhelmed. But if you expand the balloon, the same amount of fear takes up less space. Expansion is about growing your ability to handle uncomfortable emotions, so they feel less overwhelming. It’s not about getting rid of fear but making it less dominant in your experience.

One of the simplest ways to practice expansion is through mindfulness. Instead of getting caught up in fear, you observe it. You identify where it sits in your body—is your chest tight? Are your hands cold? Do you feel a lump in your throat? Instead of labeling these sensations as "bad" or trying to make them go away, you simply allow them to exist. You give them space. You breathe into them. And in doing so, you rob them of their power.

A powerful example of expansion in action is the experience of stage fright. Many people believe that the only way to speak confidently in public is to eliminate their anxiety. But professional speakers know that anxiety never fully disappears—it must be accepted. Comedian Jerry Seinfeld, one of the most successful stand-up performers of all time, once said that he still feels nervous before every show. But instead of fighting it, he treats it as part of the process. He doesn’t try to suppress it. He lets it be there, expands around it, and performs anyway.

Harris introduces an exercise called dropping the rope, which is based on the metaphor of a tug-of-war with a monster. Imagine your fear is on one side of a rope, pulling as hard as it can, while you desperately pull back, trying to win. The more you struggle, the stronger the fear feels. But what happens if you simply drop the rope? The battle ends. The fear still exists, but it no longer controls you. Acceptance is about letting go of the fight and focusing on what truly matters—your actions.

This is what separates those who build confidence from those who remain stuck. People who struggle with fear see it as an enemy that must be defeated before they can move forward. People who grow in confidence recognize that fear is a normal part of stepping outside their comfort zone. They don’t waste energy trying to get rid of it—they expand around it, allowing it to be there while they take action.

Take, for example, Navy SEALs, who undergo some of the most grueling training in the world. They are not taught to eliminate fear; they are trained to function with fear. They learn to breathe through panic, to expand their mental capacity, to make room for discomfort without letting it take over. They don’t wait for fear to disappear before acting—they move forward with it.

The same applies to everyday life. Whether it’s speaking in a meeting, launching a business, or starting a new relationship, fear and doubt will always be present. But if you practice expansion and acceptance, they no longer have to control you. Instead of viewing discomfort as a stop sign, you begin to see it as a sign of growth. You learn that confidence is not the absence of fear but the ability to act alongside it.

So, the next time fear shows up—and it will—don’t fight it. Don’t suppress it. Instead, make space for it. Breathe into it. Let it sit next to you. And then take action anyway. Because true confidence isn’t about feeling fearless—it’s about becoming fearless in the presence of fear.

Imagine being lost in a dense forest with no map, no compass, and no clear direction. You feel anxious, hesitant, and paralyzed by indecision. Every path looks equally uncertain, and the fear of making the wrong choice keeps you from moving at all. This is exactly what happens when people pursue confidence without a clear understanding of their core values. Without a guiding compass, fear and self-doubt become overwhelming. But when you know what truly matters to you—your values—you don’t need confidence to move forward. You simply align your actions with your values and let them pull you through the fear.

Russ Harris argues in The Confidence Gap that clarifying core values is one of the most powerful ways to overcome fear and self-doubt. Values serve as the foundation for meaningful action, allowing us to shift our focus away from our inner fears and toward what truly matters. Confidence is unreliable—it fluctuates based on circumstances, mood, and past experiences. But values are constant. They act as a north star, providing direction even when fear clouds our judgment.

To understand how values override fear, consider a firefighter running into a burning building. Do they feel confident? Likely not. In fact, they probably feel an intense rush of fear. But they don’t hesitate, because their values—saving lives, protecting others, serving a greater purpose—are stronger than their fear. This is the difference between acting based on fleeting emotions and acting based on deeply rooted values.

Most people, however, don’t take the time to define their values. They chase goals that society tells them to pursue—money, status, approval—without ever questioning whether those things truly matter to them. And when fear arises, they have nothing solid to hold onto. But when you identify your values, fear loses its grip. You stop asking, Do I feel confident enough to do this? and start asking, Is this action aligned with my values? This shift in focus is one of the most liberating mindset changes in Harris’s framework.

A classic example of values-driven action can be seen in Mahatma Gandhi. He was not born a fearless leader. In fact, early in his career, he was so nervous about public speaking that he once fled the courtroom rather than argue a case. But as he deepened his commitment to justice and nonviolence, his values began to guide his actions. He did not take bold steps because he felt confident—he took them because he was committed to something greater than himself. His values pulled him through his fear.

Harris suggests a simple but profound exercise to clarify values. Ask yourself:

1. What kind of person do I want to be?
2. What do I want to stand for?
3. If I weren’t afraid, what actions would I take to live according to these values?

These questions cut through the noise of self-doubt and realign your decisions with your deeper purpose. If you value growth, you’ll take risks. If you value connection, you’ll have difficult conversations. If you value creativity, you’ll share your work even when it scares you. The fear won’t disappear, but it will become secondary to what truly matters.

A real-world example of this is Brené Brown, a researcher whose work on vulnerability has transformed millions of lives. She has openly admitted that she struggles with self-doubt and anxiety every time she steps on stage. But she does it anyway because her core values—truth, courage, and connection—are more important to her than fear. When asked how she pushes through, she doesn’t say she waits for confidence. She says she chooses to act in alignment with her values.

This is the ultimate lesson of Harris’s approach: confidence is unreliable, but values are unwavering. If you wait for confidence, you may never act. But if you let your values guide you, action becomes inevitable. You no longer need to feel ready—you just need to be willing to take a step forward in the direction of what matters most.

Imagine a tree in the middle of a violent storm. The wind howls, the rain pounds, and yet, the tree remains standing. But look closer, and you’ll see why—it bends. Its branches sway, its trunk leans, and it moves with the force of the wind rather than resisting it. If it were rigid, it would snap. This is the essence of psychological flexibility, one of the most critical skills for developing true confidence, and a core principle of Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT).

Russ Harris argues in The Confidence Gap that the difference between those who thrive despite fear and those who remain stuck is not confidence—it is flexibility. Psychological flexibility is the ability to adapt, pivot, and take action even when fear, self-doubt, and discomfort are present. Instead of waiting for emotions to change, flexible individuals shift their relationship with those emotions. They don’t avoid fear—they acknowledge it, make room for it, and move forward anyway.

This is a radical departure from how most people approach confidence. Society teaches us to either suppress negative emotions (“Just think positive!”) or be consumed by them (“I feel scared, so I must not be ready”). But Harris introduces a third, far more powerful approach: holding emotions lightly. Instead of treating thoughts and feelings as barriers, psychological flexibility teaches us to carry them without letting them dictate our actions.

Consider an elite gymnast performing a routine. If they approach every move with rigid perfectionism—demanding absolute control over their body and emotions—they will crumble under pressure. But if they stay flexible, adjusting mid-air when necessary, embracing the unpredictability of their environment, they remain in control. This is exactly how psychological flexibility works in life. The goal is not to eliminate discomfort—it’s to become adaptable enough to act in its presence.

One of the key components of psychological flexibility is willingness. Harris describes willingness as the ability to feel discomfort without trying to get rid of it. Most people assume that if they feel anxious, they should stop. But those who develop psychological flexibility don’t try to escape discomfort; they lean into it. They say, “I am willing to feel this fear if it means I can live according to my values.” This subtle but powerful shift changes everything.

A real-world example of this is Sara Blakely, the billionaire founder of Spanx. She has spoken openly about how she was riddled with self-doubt when she started her business. She had no fashion background, no business degree, and no major investors backing her. But instead of waiting for confidence, she made a conscious decision: she was willing to feel rejection, fear, and uncertainty if it meant pursuing her dream. Her psychological flexibility allowed her to act despite discomfort—and ultimately led to her success.

Another essential part of flexibility is cognitive adaptability—the ability to change perspective when needed. Harris suggests a simple but effective exercise: whenever you feel stuck in a negative thought, ask yourself, Is this thought helping me take action, or is it holding me back? If it’s holding you back, reframe it. Instead of saying, “I’m not good enough to do this,” you might say, “I’m learning how to do this, and every step I take makes me stronger.” This isn’t blind positivity—it’s a flexible mindset that allows for growth.

Psychological flexibility is what separates those who act despite fear from those who remain trapped by it. It is the reason some people step onto stages shaking with nerves while others retreat. It is why some entrepreneurs launch businesses despite uncertainty while others wait for “the right time.” It is why some people embrace life’s challenges while others avoid them.

At its core, psychological flexibility is about learning to dance with discomfort rather than fight it. It is about bending like the tree in the storm—adjusting, adapting, and continuing forward, no matter how strong the wind. Because confidence is not about eliminating fear—it is about becoming flexible enough to move with it.

Imagine if a musician refused to play until they felt like a virtuoso, or if an athlete waited to feel like a champion before stepping onto the field. It sounds absurd, yet this is exactly how most people approach confidence. They assume they need to feel ready before they act, not realizing that confidence—like any skill—is built through continuous practice and application. In The Confidence Gap, Russ Harris makes it clear: confidence is not something you wake up with one day; it is something you earn through repetition, exposure, and persistence.

This concept is best illustrated by the idea of confidence as a muscle. No one expects to develop physical strength without consistent training. You don’t go to the gym once and walk out with the physique of an athlete. Strength builds gradually, with effort and patience. The same is true for confidence. The more you practice stepping outside your comfort zone, the more resilient and self-assured you become. But just like physical fitness, confidence requires consistent effort. A single bold act does not create lifelong confidence—repeated exposure to discomfort does.

A perfect real-world example of this is public speaking. Many people fear it more than death itself. They assume that great speakers are naturally gifted, but if you look closely, you’ll find a history of practice, not innate confidence. Take Warren Buffett—one of the most successful businessmen of all time. Early in his career, he was so terrified of public speaking that he avoided it at all costs. But instead of resigning himself to this fear, he enrolled in a Dale Carnegie speaking course and practiced relentlessly. He forced himself to speak, over and over, until what once paralyzed him became second nature. Today, his confidence is legendary, but it was built, not born.

Harris emphasizes that application is just as important as practice. It’s not enough to understand the concepts of ACT, defusion, expansion, and values-based action—you must actively apply them in real-world situations. This is where many people falter. They read about confidence, watch motivational videos, and absorb theory, but when fear shows up, they retreat. They treat learning as an intellectual exercise rather than a practical one.

To truly bridge the confidence gap, Harris suggests using a technique called gradual exposure. Instead of waiting for a moment of courage to take a big leap, start with small, consistent steps. If you fear speaking up in meetings, begin by making a brief comment in a low-pressure setting. If you dream of starting a business but fear failure, launch a small test version of your idea. If you’re afraid of networking, challenge yourself to introduce yourself to one new person. These micro-actions, repeated over time, create a powerful compounding effect.

A great example of this is stand-up comedy. Comedians do not magically wake up one day with the confidence to perform in front of thousands. They start in small clubs, telling jokes to five disinterested people in the audience. They bomb. They adjust. They return. Over time, their confidence grows—not because they waited for it, but because they earned it through repetition.

Harris also warns against the trap of perfectionism, which often disguises itself as preparation. Many people convince themselves they just need more training, more credentials, or more research before they can act. But this is an illusion. The best way to prepare for action is through action itself. Confidence does not come from waiting for the perfect conditions—it comes from stepping into imperfection and learning through experience.

Ultimately, continuous practice and application is the foundation of lasting confidence. It is not a one-time breakthrough but a lifelong commitment. You do not become confident by reading about it, thinking about it, or wishing for it. You become confident by doing, failing, learning, and doing again. Confidence is not a destination—it is a practice. And the more you engage with it, the stronger it becomes.