Stop Proving. Start Improving.
The shift that changed everything (and the arrogance I had to face first)
I was sitting in an online neuroscience training this weekend when the instructor said something that made my whole body react.
“Stop proving. Start improving.”
Six words. And my chest tightened. That familiar feeling of being caught doing something I thought I’d outgrown.
The instructor - Bret - was talking about coaches. How so many of us are still stuck in proving energy. How it’s become transactional. Unethical, even. How the whole industry has a dark side built on this desperate need to prove we know what we’re doing.
His wish for our group? That we stop trying to prove we’re great coaches. And instead focus on improving - our presence, our skillset, our understanding. Not so we can prove to everyone what we know. But so we can actually serve and witness our clients in their journey.
And then he said something that made me want to close my laptop:
“It’s arrogant to think you know better what’s good for your client than they do. If that dynamic creeps in, you’ve lost it as a coach”
My body knew before my brain did. Because that’s exactly the dynamic I’d been playing with one of my clients.
I wanted to prove to her so much that I knew what I was talking about. I wanted her to have this huge breakthrough - because that would prove I’m a good coach, right? I was so arrogant in my thinking that I knew exactly what she needed. That I was more expert on her than SHE was.
Lol. Makes me laugh now. But in that moment? It fucking hurt.
Because I realized: I’m still proving. Even now. Even after all the “healing” and “awakening” and reinventing myself at 34.
I’m still in proving energy. Just wearing different clothes and doing different things.
The Good Girl Who Never Needed Anything
My whole life has been driven by proving.
I was the kid who did her homework the second she got home - before my parents even asked (not that they ever actually cared - a painful side note). Then I’d make sure all my siblings did theirs too. Because I was determined to prove I was the perfect child.
Every year since I was basically six years old, I finished the school year with honors - “czerwony pasek” (in polish - “red strip”) on my diploma. Not because I loved learning what they were putting in our heads (in fact, school has successfully killed in me any desire to learn). But because I was determined to prove I made it.
I was the perfect A student. But also amazing at sports. Because I was the “get it all, be it all” kid. And once that label stuck? There was no choice.
Geography competitions. Running competitions. Polish exam competitions. You name it, I won it.
Because that was the deal I made: Be perfect. Need nothing. Prove you’re worth keeping around.
And it worked. I was the kid who never caused trouble. The mature one. The one who took care of everyone. The kid who actually proved she didn’t even need parenting.
Corporate: Proving on Steroids
Then came corporate. A whole new arena for proving.
I started as a career starter at twenty-something years old. Quickly, I was leading a team. And always at my boss’s whim - late evenings, early mornings, surprise projects, impossible deadlines, presentations that needed to be perfect by Monday morning.
I was the girl who made it happen.
And to my horror now - I wore this as a badge of honor. To be the boss’s go-to little “bitch” (for lack of a better word).
The one who said yes when everyone else said no. The one who stayed when everyone else went home. The one who proved she could handle it.
Except I couldn’t. Not really. My body was screaming. But I couldn’t hear it over the sound of my own proving.
The Reinvention (Still Proving, Different Stage)
And then I wanted to prove I could do it all: entrepreneur, mum, employee. All of it. At once.
Because I’m so capable. I’ve always been capable. Right?
That fell apart spectacularly.
Depression came. Burnout came. The whole identity crumbled.
So I did what any good overachiever does: I reinvented myself from scratch at 34.
New career. New identity. New version of me.
And I thought I was done proving.
I thought becoming a coach, doing the nervous system work, getting certified, building businesses - I thought that was growth. And it is.
But it’s also still proving.
The Most Recent Proof (Literally Last Week)
Last week I was back in my home village. Meeting people I haven’t seen in a long time.
And I caught myself so clearly: I wanted everyone to think we’ve crushed it (me & my sis). That we’re so figured out.
Because when you go back home, you want them to see you’ve made it. Well, I had. But still not in the way that’s approved in my region - AKA own a lot of shit and arrive in the newest BMW.
I felt the proving creep in. The need to make it look bigger, shinier, more successful than it actually is.
Because admitting our business isn’t yet where I want it to be? That felt like failure.
And I’ve spent my whole life proving I’m not a failure.
The Cost of Proving
Here’s what proving actually cost me, over the course of my life:
My health. Burnout at 30. Depression that felt like drowning. Hormonal chaos, anxiety, a host of physical symptomps that made me unrecognizable to myself.
My presence. Always performing, never just being. Missing my kid’s stories because I was mentally drafting the perfect Instagram caption to prove I’m a good mum.
My joy. I couldn’t celebrate wins because I was already chasing the next proof. Every achievement felt hollow because it was never about me - it was about them seeing me.
My relationships. I couldn’t let people fully in because they might see I’m not actually perfect. I kept people at arm’s length.
My credibility (the irony). The more I tried to prove I was a good coach, an entrepreneur that “made it”, the worse my coaching got. Because I was focused on me looking good instead of the client discovering their own answers.
The irony? All that proving never made me feel proven. It just raised the bar.
One more certification. One more win. One more post that gets enough likes to prove I’m doing it right.
It’s exhausting. And it’s never enough.
The Shift: Fuck Proving
And you know what? Fuck proving. I’m done.
Done trying to convince my dad I’m successful without owning a house / land / big car.
Done trying to convince Instagram I’m healed enough to have credibility.
Done trying to convince myself I need one more certification before I’m “ready.”
Done trying to prove to my clients that I have all the answers.
I’m already enough. And so are you.
The only thing left to do is improve. Not to become enough. But because I’m alive. And growth is what living things do.
What “Improving” Actually Looks Like
So what does “stop proving, start improving” actually look like?
Honestly? I’m still figuring it out.
And that sentence - “I’m still figuring it out” - is the whole fucking point.
Because the old me would never have written that. The old me would’ve waited until I had it all figured out, packaged it perfectly, presented it as a complete system.
This article? This messy, in-progress, still-unfolding article? This IS the shift.
Showing up as I am. Done proving. Here’s what improving looks like in practice:
In my coaching: I used to panic if I didn’t have the perfect answer. I’d try to manufacture breakthroughs because that would prove I’m good at this. Now I say “I don’t know. Let’s explore this together.” And the sessions are SO much better. Because it’s not about me anymore.
In my business: I used to obsess over shiny Instagram carousels that would prove we’re “established.” Now? I’m bringing it back to the unglamorous shit that actually matters - finances, logistics, shipping, the fine details of products. Building systems that work. Looking at where my team’s failures are also my own. How I contributed to that.
This is different energy. Less sexy. More solid.
In my mothering: I used to try to be the Pinterest mum. Prove I’ve got it together. Now I let my kid see me tired, frustrated, imperfect. And they’re learning it’s okay to be human. That’s worth more than any perfectly decorated birthday party.
On Instagram: Showing up imperfectly. Messy. In progress. Not waiting until I “have it all figured out” to share. Because nobody - NOBODY - has it all figured out. Yes, there are people further in the process than you. People who might have healed what you want to. People who you feel called to be your guide. But never, ever have they got it all figured out.
That’s the beauty of this journey called life - we are lifelong students. Life will always prompt you to grow. As long as you’re ready to listen.
And that’s the energy I embody now. And from that place, my coaching, my business, my mothering - everything has so much more juice and authenticity to it.
Proving Is Desperate. Improving Is Sexy.
Here’s what we got wrong: we think proving is sexy. That when we “prove” something to another person, that we have finally “crushed it” and “made it”.
No. Proving is still desperate.
I’m done with desperate.
Sexy is knowing so fucking well who you are. What you want. Knowing your business, your employees, your craft. Knowing what to focus on. And letting the results shine for themselves.
Not shouting about how great you are. Just being great. And improving every day.
I feel springtime in my bones. And in my message. And in the way I show up.
Ditching proving. Focusing on improving.
What an exciting fucking ride.
I’m fully in.
The Question
So here’s my question for you:
Where are you still proving?
To your parents? Your partner? Your boss? Your friends? Your kids? Your Instagram followers? Your clients? Yourself?
What would you do differently today if you stopped trying to prove you’re enough - and started improving because you already are?
Not improving to finally deserve love, success, rest.
Improving because you’re alive. And growth is what living things do.
That’s the game I’m playing now.
Are you in?
Hi Aneta, Sometimes improving means being fully honest with yourself and having clarity. You can admit your setbacks, and that’s powerful. Many people don’t want to mention their failures because they see them as a weakness. But by acknowledging them, you prove that you can learn from failures — which we all make — and become a better version of yourself. Thank you for your essay. I like it🙏 Never give up. You’re doing very well🙏