Someone recently told me, “You should teach this—you’re so good at it!” They meant it as a compliment. And I appreciated it. But I didn’t know how to explain the odd twist I felt in my stomach.
It wasn’t discomfort with teaching—I’ve been a teacher most of my life. It wasn’t false humility either. It was something else. A quiet resistance. A refusal, maybe.
I don’t see myself as an expert, neither do I want to be one.
Not here. Not in this space that feels more like a notebook than a stage. Not in this gentle corner where I can wonder freely, try things before I understand them, and stay present in the process rather than the outcome.
The internet is filled with experts. People who’ve turned their skills into systems, their thoughts into brands, their creativity into content machines. And I don’t fault them—it’s powerful work. But it’s not what I want right now.
When I work with AI, or build something new, or write one of these posts, I’m not trying to lead the way. I’m trying to stay curious. To ask better questions. To notice what I didn’t know before.
Staying open like this comes with a certain messiness. My thoughts evolve, sometimes unexpectedly. But that’s part of what I value most—a space where meaning isn’t tied to being polished or final.
And maybe that’s what I’m protecting. Not my authority, but my exploration.
I don’t want to be a voice of certainty. I want to be a companion to curiosity.
So if you’re learning something new, but not ready to master it… if you’re creating without turning it into content… if you’re asking questions without needing answers—welcome. You’re not alone.
What part of your life are you quietly protecting from the pressure to be “good at it”?
