Hello music lovers!
Thank you for being here, and special thanks to all of you who read last month’s post about my recording session! In it I wrote about the micro-moments of doubt that shaped that experience. This month, I want to lean right into the theme: self-doubt itself.
Let me start with a question: What if self-doubt isn’t the opposite of confidence at all, but the doorway to it?
If you feel like September is full of wild optimism but currently feels like swirling chaos, you’re not alone. It takes time to settle into new rhythms and routines. With all the changes, the dial of self-doubt tends to get turned up. What we call back-to-school-jitters is really the discomfort of the unknown, the limbo before we feel comfort and predictability. In such a profound way, this mirrors the process of learning music: what starts out as completely blank and impossible becomes familiar and replicable with practice.
Whether you’re dealing with self-doubt yourself, or if you’re guiding your kids through this period, we can all use support and recognition that we’re not the only one. How could something as painfully uncomfortable and potentially halting as self-doubt actually serve a purpose? What does music practice have to do with it? Why are we going right toward this topic instead of pretending it doesn’t exist?
In the studio, I noticed how self-doubt flickered and quickly transformed into focus. Watching that little loop unfold made me wonder what was happening beneath the surface. I didn’t dwell in doubt, I didn’t walk away from the recording experience with the pervasive feeling that I did a bad job. I actually felt satisfied and fulfilled from using the energy of doubt to point myself in a useful direction to get an even better result. This wasn’t random or accidental. It was the result of years of training at the keyboard, building responses to feedback that serve the upward learning spiral.
Music practice is like a lab, a fascinating place to learn how the mind works. In this lab, we can also train our minds in a way that serves our overall operating system, improving how we approach challenges in life in general. What we train in the musical setting becomes a habit, and habits shape the infrastructure of our brains. If I can learn how to turn a mistake into a prompt for curiosity rather than criticism, I have the chance to respond creatively.
The life skill of creative adaptation to problem solving is constantly honed when we practice music. However, it’s not an automatic leap that we transfer these skills into other situations in life: relationships, presentations, championship games, final exams, but the potential is there. This has been the case for me, and for hundreds of students I’ve observed and worked with.
Here are three ways self-doubt has guided me, and might guide you, in music and in life:
Self-doubt exists in relation to other people
Most of our self-doubt arises when we imagine how others see us. In psychology, this is tied to social comparison and fear of judgment. A student may play just fine alone at home but freeze in front of a teacher or peer. I’ve noticed in my own work that the presence of an audience sharpens my awareness, sometimes in uncomfortable ways, but it can also direct my attention to detail and help me rise to the moment. Self-doubt reminds us that music is relational: we thrive when we share it. Instead of proof that something is wrong, the flutter of doubt in front of others can signal that what we’re doing matters to us, and has the potential to matter to others as well. That kind of clarity about what matters can be a real gift.
Self-doubt shows us where the holes are
In sports psychology, athletes learn to treat moments of doubt as diagnostic information: “Is there something I didn’t prepare as fully as I could have?” In music, it works the same way. Doubt often lands right on the shaky spots. That tricky shift, that rhythm that’s not quite internalized, that page turn you keep hoping will resolve itself… When we lean in, doubt becomes a spotlight showing us where to place our energy. Practice then shifts from a tedious grind to a purposeful quest: the very place that makes you hesitate might be your best opportunity to grow. Doubt is a clear sign that there is more to uncover and integrate. And when we use it to our advantage, our priorities sharpen, progress accelerates, and we move closer to the confidence and flow we’re after.
Self-doubt prompts the next cycle of growth and discovery
Comfort feels good, but it doesn’t always inspire us to grow. Research on learning curves shows that when we’re too comfortable, improvement slows down. Doubt, on the other hand, wakes us up. It can make us curious: What can I do differently? What skill or insight is waiting on the other side of this discomfort? In my own experience, some of the biggest breakthroughs have followed the most uncertain moments. Sometimes those moments have been filled with frustration at not being there yet. That uneasy energy doesn’t mean you’re failing; it means you’re on the edge of discovery. Confidence grows when we listen to this helpful internal communication. In the practice room, that’s exactly where the transformation happens.
Self-doubt doesn’t have to be a stop sign. With practice, it can become a signpost pointing us to the very places where growth and confidence are waiting.