I found myself sitting across from my daughter last week, witnessing a storm of emotions wash over her face as she confronted another challenging math test. This year has been particularly difficult – our family's move to Spain thrusted her into the UK educational system, which runs approximately two years ahead of the Canadian curriculum she had grown accustomed to.

For my daughter, this year hasn't been about just catching up academically; it's been about embracing challenge on all fronts. Forming new friendships while grieving those left behind, pursuing the next level of her passion for soccer, learning a new language, and preparing university applications – all simultaneously. Looking back, I know this will be a profound inflection point in her development, but in the moment, it's simply hard.

As she expressed her overwhelm, shared a tennis analogy with her to explain something I’ve been observing for a number of months: "In tennis, you can play from the baseline or at the net. The worst place to play is 'no-man's land' – that awkward space in between. That's where you've been playing for the last few months."

Much like in tennis, two things can be true simultaneously. The opponent and challenge can be genuinely difficult, AND there can be opportunities for us to improve our process. An empowered approach is to not give circumstances all the power over our results. Both realities can co-exist, and we need to navigate each separately. It's all too easy to over-attribute our struggles to external circumstances rather than examining our approach.

My daughter has been working hard, AND there is a next gear she can embrace – a more effective way of doing things. I can see so clearly that she's capable of reaching her goals, but she needs to evolve her approach.

The problem? She's in denial.

My attempts to point this out are met with frustration or dismissal of suggestions she hasn't truly tested. One gym session doesn't transform your fitness; one study session without distractions doesn't revolutionize your academic performance.

I found myself growing frustrated, nearly ready to throw up my hands and say, "Fine, figure it out yourself." But then I paused and reflected on what I know about human nature – about denial itself.

Denial: Gateway or Prison?

Denial isn't just something we witness in others. It's an ever-present force in all our lives – the invisible barrier between where we are and where we want to go, between who we are and who we're becoming.

In many ways, denial serves us. It's a coping mechanism that allows us to refuse facing what we're not yet ready to confront. But for those of us with ambitions for growth – or those helping others grow as parents, coaches, or leaders – we must learn to navigate denial productively, without destroying relationships in the process. A razors edge I’ve personally been walking this week. 

We have two choices in how we view denial. We can see it as an endpoint – a frustrating wall beyond which progress cannot be made. Or we can recognize it as a temporary shelter that we all inhabit before stepping into a larger version of ourselves. It's like a cocoon – protective for a time, but never meant to be permanent. Eventually, we must break through, often reluctantly, leaving behind the comfortable limitations we've grown accustomed to.

Reminding myself of this perspective shifted everything for me over the last day or two. Instead of seeing my daughter's denial as a dead end for my involvement, I began wondering how I might help her take that next step.

The Snake Shedding Its Skin

By thinking about how I could help my daughter take the next step, I started to reflect on when I've experienced – and subsequently overcome – denial myself.

In my own life, I've faced denial numerous times (And god knows I’m denying something right now…)

I denied how my spending habits were preventing me from building savings, blaming external circumstances instead of my tendency toward what might be called "adaptive poverty" – increasing my spending in lockstep with my income.

I also denied the subtle way cannabis was affecting my life. I wasn't using it daily, but most evenings I would smoke to relax and unwind. Whenever someone would suggest it might be impacting me negatively, I would immediately become defensive, listing all the successful people who used cannabis regularly. The reality wasn't that it was destroying my life, but rather placing an invisible ceiling on what I could achieve. It was affecting my sleep quality, my morning clarity, and subtly dampening my ambition. Only when I finally took a month-long break did I realize the impact it had been having.

Perhaps my most significant denial came during my first business venture. As we struggled to gain traction in the concussion space, I blamed the political landscape and entrenched interests actively impeding our progress. I spent countless hours railing against the politics instead of considering a simpler truth: our product wasn't solving a real problem effectively. My denial prevented me from making the pivots that might have saved the business.

When others tried to confront these patterns, I responded exactly as my daughter does now – with resistance, anger, and the conviction that they simply didn't understand me. The approach I was taking with her hadn't worked on me either. Reflecting on this over the last few days helped illuminate that I may have a better way of supporting my daughter. 

Perhaps I needed to confront my own denial that she was the problem. Maybe I was the issue.

Creating Productive Tension

All meaningful change requires tension. Without tension, we remain comfortable in our current state, regardless of how uncomfortable that state might actually be. Paradoxically, we often choose the discomfort we know over the uncertainty of change.

Looking back at the people who most effectively helped me shed old ways of being, I realized they didn't create tension between us – they illuminated tension within me. This distinction is crucial:

Tension Within is Productive: Internal tension occurs when someone confronts contradictions in their own thinking or recognizes the gap between their current reality and desired future. This tension is generative and motivating.

Tension Between is Counter-productive: Interpersonal tension develops when someone feels pushed, told what to do, or defensive in a conversation. This tension rarely produces growth and often creates resistance.

Those who helped me transform have done two things consistently:

1. They modeled what it looked like to achieve what I wanted
2. They focused conversations on where I wanted to go – what was calling me forward, what I dreamed of becoming

The clearer I got on my future, the stronger the gravitational pull forward, and the more internal tension built within me. This internal tension – not external conflict with others – became my catalyst for change. In fact, tension with others often reinforced my perspective and prolonged my denial.

The Art of Illuminating Inner Conflict

With my daughter, I'm reminded that I can shift my approach from telling to asking. Good questions don't create tension – they illuminate it.

Instead of saying, "You need to study without distractions," I might ask, "What difference do you notice in your comprehension when you study with versus without Netflix playing?"

Rather than pointing out her resistance to feedback, I could ask, "What might become possible if you viewed feedback as a resource rather than a criticism?"

This approach creates space for her to discover her own possible contradictions:

• She wants excellent grades but studies while distracted
• She aspires to play competitive soccer but skips essential rehab components
• She desires independence but organizes herself in ways that produce stress and anxiety

When these contradictions are illuminated through curious questions rather than pointed statements, they create productive internal tension rather than defensive external tension.

Crossing the River Together

Acceptance of our denial is like a snake shedding its skin – difficult but beautiful once we begin the process. Starting this journey involves clearing away the confusing, the cluttered, and the complicated to find the beautiful, often hidden lineaments of the essential and the necessary.

Denial stands at a crossroads. It can become a prison that places shackles on our potential, or it can become a gateway to the next larger context of our lives.

If you're supporting someone wrestling with denial, here are three approaches that I want to invite you to consider:

1. Ask, don't tell: Questions create internal reflection, while statements often trigger defense. Instead of saying, "You're not studying effectively," try asking, "What would happen if you tried studying without your phone for three consecutive days? What are you afraid might happen if you tried that?"
2. Share your own journey through denial: Vulnerability creates safety for others to examine their own blind spots. For example: "I remember when I was convinced my business struggles were due to industry politics. It took me a year to realize our product simply wasn't good enough. Looking back, I can see how that belief protected me from a harder truth."
3. Be patient: Denial doesn't dissolve overnight. Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is plant a seed and give it time to grow. Remember: People change when they're ready, not when you're ready for them to change. My daughter may not implement my suggestions today, but that doesn't mean she didn't hear them. The most important conversations often echo in someone's mind long after they appear to have rejected the message.

The next time you encounter denial – in yourself or someone you love – remember that it's not an endpoint but a transition. It's not a failure of character but a necessary step in growth.

Denial rarely ends by forcing confrontation with what we're avoiding. Instead, it dissolves when we become clear enough about where we're going that we can no longer tolerate what holds us back.

In this way, denial becomes not an obstacle but a doorway – not a frustration but an invitation to the next version of ourselves. And isn't that what we all want, both for ourselves and for those we love? The chance to continually evolve into something more aligned with our highest potential?

So as I sit across from my daughter, watching her wrestle with changes she didn't ask for, I'm learning to see her denial not as stubbornness but as protection – a temporary shelter that, when the time is right, she'll outgrow on her journey to becoming exactly who she's meant to be.