Prove it.
I’m part way through season 4 of “The Bear.” While I haven’t loved every episode of every season, the show reliably makes me think — usually about themes like ambition, creativity, craft, excellence … and ego.
In a recent episode, Carmy’s insistence on impossible standards is exacting a cost he can no longer ignore. He has pushed his restaurant and his team past their breaking point over and over — and things are falling apart. He’s in danger of destroying the very thing he’s trying to perfect
Tina sees his struggle and offers some wisdom:
“You’re the s**t, baby. You don’t got nothing to prove.”
I’ve been thinking a lot recently about what “proving” looks like — and the price we pay when we’re focused on proving our worth.
This theme has been coming up with my clients, too, in all kinds of situations:
In conversation (personal or professional): When we’re proving (that we’re smart, or thoughtful, or “right”) we are busy convincing, talking “at” people rather than listening and building understanding.
For leaders: Proving shows up in sneaky ways. It can look like taking on too much (proving that you care), demanding intellectual obedience (proving that you’re right), hesitating (proving that you’re a collaborator), or being defensive (proving that you belong in the role.)
For musicians: Proving shifts our attention away from serving the music and into what we imagine someone else is thinking about our artistry. (I spent years “proving” my worth as a principal flutist by playing a famous solo all in one breath, until I finally woke up to the hard truth that my ego was running the show and that the music would be better served by adding a well-placed breath.)
On a date: When we’re proving (that we’re interesting, or educated, or a good conversationalist), guess what we’re not doing? Listening. Connecting. Actually being curious. Tuning into our inner wisdom. We’re performing, not relating.
Proving disconnects us from ourselves and others. It takes us out of the present and out of the conversation. It distracts us from what is right in front of us.
And it cedes our power. When we’re proving, we “need” someone else to validate our worth.
That “someone else” might be a colleague. It might be the lingering voice of a teacher who told us we don’t have what it takes. It might be our own inner critic who demands proof of our value or worthiness (in the form of perfectionism and unreachable goals.) The “someone else” might also be societal messaging about what certain people are or aren’t capable of.
And wouldn’t it be great to somehow prove them all wrong? To prove our worthiness? Our egos love that project. (Egos thrive on comparison and external validation.)
But what if instead we saw the cost of proving — and chose not to take the bait?
What if instead of proving our worth, we focused on providing value? What would that look like?
What if Carmy could stop trying to prove and instead thought hard about how he could provide extraordinary value — to his customers, to his colleagues, to his vision. What would change?
INVITATION TO REFLECT: Where are you “proving” in your life? What are you proving, and to whom? And what is that costing you? What might shift if you could tell yourself, “You’re the s**t, baby. You don’t got nothing to prove” — and then focus squarely on providing value.
ACTION STEP: Choose one area in your world. Identify how you could focus 5% less on proving worth, and instead move 5% towards providing value. Get clear about what that looks like. And then run the experiment.
(And let me know what you notice!)