

You’ve probably seen the headlines: thieves walked into the Louvre in broad daylight and walked out with millions in royal jewels.
No masks. No chase scene. No chaos even.
It was strategic. Almost polite.
And that’s the part that got me.
Because that’s exactly how the brain steals from you when you’re building something bigger, different or scary.
It doesn’t break down doors or set off alarms.
It smiles at security, blends into the museum crowd, and disappears with your clarity in under 7 minutes.
That’s how sabotage looks on high-achieving women.
Not messy. Meticulous.
It’s fear with a blowout and a calendar link.
When I read about the Louvre heist, what struck me wasn’t what they took — it’s how they took it.*
Broad daylight. Security everywhere. Cameras rolling.
They knew night was when everyone was watching, so they went when no one expected a threat.
That’s how the brain operates, too.
She doesn’t hit when you’re low, she waits until you’re on a roll.
When you set the goal, start making moves and feeling powerful.
That’s when she strolls in, armed with logic and good intentions, and talks you into handing over your own brilliance & momentum.
I know you. I mean… I don’t KNOW you but I KNOW you, ya know?!
You are high-achieving, wicked smart, warm-hearted, ambitious AF with a rebellious streak that gives the finger to “normal” and here’s why that’s a problem…
Your downfall probably won’t look like chaos.
It’ll look like being really busy with the wrong things.
It’s waking up with the best intentions and somehow spending the first half of the day organizing your Notes app instead of finishing the post that would actually move the needle.
It’s opening Instagram to “get inspired,” saving three sounds, and suddenly convincing yourself you’re a failure and you should quit bc everyone else is FARRRRR better at this whole thing….
It’s writing content in your head on walks, in the shower, while driving and then never actually hitting publish because “it’s not quite ready.”
It’s re-wording a caption because it might be too opinionated.
It’s that weird in-between of “I’m doing everything” and “I’m somehow still behind.”
You end the day mentally wrung out but can’t point to one thing that actually moved the business forward.
You close your laptop, half proud of how responsible you’ve been, half frustrated that nothing feels like traction.
And the worst part? You can’t call it procrastination, because it all looks productive.
That’s why it’s so hard to catch because what you’re doing isn’t wrong, it’s just laced with fear.
I noticed this one creeping in lately. I’ve been really resisting being in front of the camera not because I don’t know what to say, but because I don’t want to be seen.
It’s easy to call it “protecting my peace” or “being discerning about where I share my energy,” but that’s not what it is. It’s hiding.
It’s telling myself that being quiet is noble when really it’s fear disguised as self-awareness.
There’s a difference between solitude and avoidance and lately I’ve been toeing that line.
Every time I call it a boundary, it buys me one more day of invisibility.
This one kills more big-hearted founders than burnout ever will.
I see it constantly in my 1:1 clients: they hit a road bump, and suddenly everything becomes “unaligned.”
They start to wonder if the offer’s wrong, or if maybe they’re not meant to do “this whole biz thing” it at all and down, down the rabbit hole they fall.
I’ve been there too.
I tell myself, I’ll feel inspired soon, as if inspiration is a weather pattern that’ll eventually pass through.
But it’s not.
Momentum creates inspiration not the other way around.
When I stop moving, I stop feeling connected to the work.
And when I start moving again, even a little, it all comes back online.
You ever set a plan, feel grounded in it and then completely ignore it two weeks later?
Same.
I built the system. I trust the system.
But then I convince myself I need to make things more “flowy” or “creative.”
And suddenly, I’m not following the structure that was designed to make my life easier.
That’s the inside job.
I’m the thief, moving my own finish line just to keep feeling busy.
Someone said this to me recently and I can’t unheard it now:
Success isn’t personal.
I’m sure I’ve heard it before — but this time it landed.
And I kinda wanted to slap them because to someone who’s made success so personal this feels like a blow.
On the other hand I wanted to hug them hard.
Because after I stopped defending my feelings, I realized it was the most freeing thing I’ve heard in years. ( I hope it freed you too)
The truth is that when you build a personal brand, everything feels personal and it’s messy.
Your face is the logo. Your words are the offer.
But the numbers, the data isn’t judgment, it’s direction.
And every time I stop personalizing the numbers, I get back into motion.
High standards are devotion.
Perfectionism is control.
Psychologists call it the difference between approach goals and avoidance goals.
One moves toward mastery; the other hides from humiliation.
You can feel the difference in your body:
Refining = open chest, curious breath.
Perfecting = clenched jaw, shallow inhale.
Refinement says, let’s elevate this.
Perfectionism whispers, let’s disappear before they notice.
Dr. Thomas Curran found perfectionism up 33 percent since the ’80s.
The world told women to “lean in” and we did, until our nervous systems went corporate.
UC Berkeley research shows adaptive perfectionists (high standards + self-
compassion) create more.
Discernment drives innovation; self-critique drives drafts that never see daylight.
So ask yourself:
Are you editing because you’re evolving — or because exposure terrifies you?
(Because the heist isn’t a glitch — it’s part of the game.)
If you’ve set a big goal, entered a new chapter, or raised your own bar — know this: the thief will come.
Not if. When.
Every time you stretch into something bigger, your brain will try to talk you out of it and she’ll sound completely reasonable while doing it.
She’ll use your best logic, your calmest tone, your most professional voice (bc you’re wicked smart & you’d be on to her otherwise!!!)
She’ll tell you to slow down, to be thoughtful, to “wait until it feels aligned.”
And she’ll sound right.
That’s why you have to know her moves before she makes them.
It’s not your job to avoid her; it’s your job to recognize her fast and call yourself back into alignment.
Because the women who keep building aren’t the ones who never wobble.
They’re the ones who notice the wobble and get back on track faster.
This is why it matters to have someone in your corner: a coach, a biz bestie, a sounding board.
When you go it alone, your brain will always try to lead you somewhere safe, and safety often feels like “the right thing.”
But safety isn’t always strategy.
So don’t hope this won’t happen.
Expect it.
Plan for it.
And when it shows up, take it as confirmation that you’re in motion that your work is stretching you into new territory.
Because if your brain isn’t trying to pull a heist,
you’re probably not playing big enough to need one.
And that’s the thing about awareness once you see the pattern, you can’t unsee it.
You start to recognize her fingerprints on everything: the overthinking, the second-guessing, the “I’ll do it next week” delay.
But instead of losing momentum, you tighten your focus.
You start running your own security system instead of waiting to feel ready.
And just like the Louvre, you tighten security after the first hit.
You don’t close the museum, you install better motion sensors.
Because once you’ve seen how the thieves move, you stop being surprised when they show up.
You expect them.
You recognize the timing, the disguises, the quiet confidence and you keep the vault open anyway.
Your brain isn’t the security guard.
She’s the thief…. daylight-polished, wearing your best blazer, carrying your confidence in a Hermès bag.
You can’t out-plan her.
You can only out-witness her.
Awareness is the flashlight.
Name the play.
Run the protocol.
Ship the damn diamonds.