Why do we avoid knowing where we might be able to improve?

A few weeks ago, a group from Madrid, Spain, held a retreat at Lone Oak. As their time came to an end, they seemed genuinely happy with the experience.

I had the chance to say goodbye, share a few laughs, exchange hugs, and receive both extraordinarily kind words and thoughtful feedback about what they’d like to see improved when they return in a few months.

I listened, took notes and scheduled a meeting with our event coordinator to put a plan in motion toward their next experience.

Later that day, I sat down to write one final email to them. I simply wanted to say thank you for trusting us with their experience, and to leave the door open for any additional feedback they might want to share.

Before pressing “send,” I hesitated. I knew what I was doing…..I was inviting honesty.

Sure, it would feel great to hear that everything was perfect and nothing needed to be improved, but that’s rarely true, and it’s never helped us grow. Genuine improvement doesn’t come from feeling good; it comes from understanding clearly.

Before hitting send, I reread the email and added one final line:

“Our goal is to consistently share noticeable improvements with the people around us.”

Given the choice between a false sense of comfort and the courage to face what’s real, I’ll choose real every time.

After sending the email, I leaned back in my chair and found myself resonating on a question:

Why do we avoid knowing where we might be able to improve?

I thought about a few situations where this might be most obvious: 

Have you ever avoided looking into a full-length mirror or side-stepped the bathroom scale because you were afraid of what it might share with you?

Have you ever delayed opening your banking app because you suspected the balance might not be what you wanted it to be?

Have you ever silenced a call, locked a door, or turned off the lights to avoid an uncomfortable conversation with a neighbor, a family member, or someone you work with?

If I’m being honest with myself about most of these: Yes. Yes. And Yes.

And when I look closer, I realize I wasn’t avoiding the scale, the app or the conversation.

I was avoiding how I might feel once I knew the truth.

Even though we all understand that the first step toward improvement is simply recognizing something needs to improve, the fear of feeling often prevents us from ever taking that first step.

As I’ve shared in 100’s of presentations, we avoid what we think might hurt.

It’s taken some time (and just learning how to be ok with the initial sting), but I’ve come to understand the value of knowing.

After every guest experience at Lone Oak, we take time to reflect:

* Who/how did we impact, directly or indirectly?
* Was our impact positive and meaningful?
* Did the experience flow?
* Were our interactions transactional or relational?
* Where could we have been more present, more engaged, more attentive?
* Are we avoiding anything?

When was the last time you took 60 seconds at the end of your day to reflect on what you just lived?

Ask yourself:
If I hadn’t existed today, would anyone or anything be better, worse, or different?

Or…

What might I be avoiding?

As we move through this holiday season, I want to encourage you to, honestly, look at the things you might be avoiding for fear of the answer.

I’m not much of a “New Year’s resolution” guy. I’m more of an “intention” guy.

Few meaningful priorities are resolved in short order: Health. Relationships. Healing.

The things that matter most don’t change overnight. But they CAN change when we stop running from what we’re afraid to feel…and face that specific reality.

If your intention is to improve, you’re willing to lean into your situation, and you’re brave enough to sit with the discomfort just for a moment…

A few months from now, you won’t just feel better…you’ll be better.

Remain encouraged,
Brian