The Business of Your Inadequacy

Every few months, the internet obsesses over someone new, and the discussion quickly shifts from their work to what associating with this figure represents socially. The conversation turns into a debate about picking sides and what your choice says about you.

What stands out to me in these cycles is that the focus isn’t on genuine action or change. What I don’t often hear is: “Here’s what I’m doing differently now.” What I see more often is people situating themselves inside the energy of it all: the ambition, the belonging, the identity of being “in the room.”

The gap between inspiration and action, excitement and follow-through, isn’t accidental.

I’ve been watching this pattern for years. People organize themselves around whoever seems to embody the life, confidence, freedom, visibility, or certainty they want for themselves. The ticket prices, formats, and faces change, but what draws people there often stays the same.

It’s usually not hunger, curiosity, or even a specific problem they need solved.

It’s a sense that something is missing. People start hoping that proximity to the right person, energy, or room will somehow give them access to what feels missing in themselves. Showing up begins to feel like progress — buying the book, attending the event, publicly aligning yourself with the conversation — all of it creates the feeling of movement without necessarily requiring change.

And I don’t think that feeling is always ambition. A lot of the time, it’s an old wound dressed up as ambition, and entire industries profit from keeping that wound alive.

These aren’t really networking events, even if that’s what you’re hoping for. They’re gatherings, and what brings people together isn’t always hope or ambition — it’s a feeling of not being enough.

Wanting to be near people, rooms, or energy that represent something you want for yourself is not a weakness; it’s human. The issue is not our desire to belong; it’s what we’ve been taught belonging looks like. Somewhere along the way, many of us started confusing belonging with proximity to people who seem more certain, successful, visible, or fully realized than we feel inside ourselves.

These rooms find people already quietly wondering if they’re behind, underused, unseen, wasting their potential, or somehow missing the thing everyone else seems to understand, and give them a place to gather.

If you no longer need the room to tell you who you are, your relationship to it changes. You might still go, learn, and be inspired, but you understand that growth is something you participate in, not something you absorb.

And honestly, I think this dynamic is especially seductive for intelligent people.

There’s always another method, expert, or group with answers you haven’t found. Thinking about these things feels like progress because it looks like effort. You take notes and meet people, and everyone still has to go home and face the thing that was waiting for them before they bought the ticket.

I know this because it’s literally the work I do. When I sit with someone long enough to get underneath what’s actually holding them back, it is rarely because they haven’t found the right strategy, room, book, or expert. It’s usually something more hidden and personal. Fear. Shame. Avoidance. Grief. Self-betrayal. The inability to tolerate uncertainty long enough to become the truest version of themselves.

That’s not something a conference or a gathering can reach, because these events are designed to make you feel like being there is the work.

This is how the cycle works:

You join a group → take part in a conversation → buy a book→ or pick a side that fits who you want to be.

You get a rush → someone inspires you → you feel validated → you feel like you belong.

That feeling is real, and the enthusiasm is genuine. You go home feeling energized.

The energy fades → the group isn’t with you anymore → the people you met aren’t close friends → the insights don’t add up → the gap stays or feels bigger, now that you’ve seen others further ahead → so you look for the next group, book, or version of that feeling.

This cycle keeps you doubting yourself; it’s a business built on your continual uncertainty. And regardless of who people claim these conversations are “for,” the entire business model depends on your identification with the gap being sold back to you.

The answer isn’t in the room, the book, or the conversation. It’s in the decisions you already know you need to make.

No amount of proximity can build self-trust for you. Only honest action can.

I’m Myleik. I coach, consult, and advise people who are building things and trying to build deeper trust with themselves while they do it. The work I do is exactly what this essay is about: getting underneath the thing that's actually in the way.

I write about what I’m seeing and learning in real time. If you’re ready to do the work, you can work with me 1:1 or join Bring Your Work, my live coaching community. Or stay here and keep reading.