We Were Never Playing The Same Game
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I’ve been putting together a workshop about Bridging the Knowing-Doing Gap. And around every slide, every bullet point, there’s my dad.
I could see him, standing at the front of a conference room with a jar full of rocks and sand. My dad was a great teacher. And I loved to sit in on his trainings. Seven Habits. Franklin Covey Planners. He was trained. Certified. But also… a master. My dad was a productivity ninja.
Not only was he a rockstar at work and church (no one there ever let us forget it) but he also ran marathons, ultramarathons, climbed rocks, was (is) a loving, devoted husband, and a good friend. He didn’t just coast on talent. He built systems. Then, because he cared, he tried to teach them to us. To everyone.
I, the hot mess that I was, was hungry for them. I took cast-off planners, read the books, listened to talks on tape… I was there for it. My life was out of control. I wanted what Dad had. I heard the stories. I believed the jar. Dad helped me set up my planner. And three pages in, I failed.
And because I was also a perfectionist with scrupulosity, the failure didn’t just sit there. It meant something. It meant that I was the problem. I mean, clearly. I was the problem.
I never did figure out that those systems weren’t built for me. Nope. That’s not what happened. What I figured out eventually was that my brain needed entirely different scaffolding. Not better willpower. Not more commitment or inspiration. A completely different approach. One built around how ADHD brains actually work. Which is nothing like how productivity systems assume they do.
That discovery let me off the hook for the first time.
It wasn’t until I trained as an ADHD coach and I learned about my brain that I understood. How brains work. Why brains resist. What brains need. And how to hack them. Now, writing this workshop. Knowing exactly how to Bridge the Knowing-Doing Gap. Not just for myself, but how to coach others through it. And right in the middle of all of this, there was my dad.
My dad spent years teaching people to use the space between stimulus and response. That’s where your responsibility lives, according to Covey. Between what happens to you and what you do about it. In that space lives your freedom. He was working on the outside. The behavior. The system. The jar with the rocks.
What I’ve learned is that for alot of people that space doesn’t exist yet. It has to be built. Especially people with brains like mine. Especially people who built their lives inside systems that handed them their choices.
Covey assumed the space was already there
I’m thinking, what if it doesn’t?
Not because we’re all broken, like I thought I was. But because building the space is a different task than using it. Instead of teaching people to choose better, I’m asking them to look at what’s happening in the brain between the knowing and the doing. What’s making the gap feel uncrossable. What scaffolding your specific nervous system actually needs before a choice is even possible.
It feels like carrying on the torch. And digging the next level deeper.
I spent my whole life knowing I’d never measure up to my dad. But that’s because I thought we were playing the same game and I was losing.
We weren’t. We were never playing the same game.
But my dad wasn’t done learning either. Probably a decade ago or more, he trained as a coach. From teaching people what worked for him to letting the client lead. I didn’t even know what coaching was until I experienced the process with him and something clicked in my brain. That’s a big part of what led me to coaching.
So Dad passed me his gift twice in different packaging. Once in a conference room. When I was young and desperate for an answer. A quick fix. And couldn’t catch it. And again, years later, in a completely different form. One where he wasn’t really passing me anything at all. Just walking with me while I found it myself.
We have the same heart. The same desire to help people live fuller lives. More intentional lives. More uniquely them. He found his way there and kept going. Mine was a little messier, but I found my way too.
He’s going to be one of the first people to read this.
Hi Dad.
I’m going deeper on all of this — the certainty piece, the ADHD piece, and what actually bridges the gap — in a one-hour workshop on July 7th @ 7 MT (Arizona). If this landed somewhere specific, that’s probably the room for you. Free for CNRS members here. And my paid subscribers here.
My readers can also book a 15-minute clarity call to clarify one stuck point here.