In my last article, I introduced an idea I’ve started calling The Quiet MiddleTM.
It’s the space between starting something and reaching the outcome we’re working towards. The place where progress is still happening, but it becomes much harder to see. It’s the stage where the initial excitement has often worn off, the early wins become less frequent, and the clear signs that tell us we’re moving in the right direction become harder to find.
As I’ve continued thinking about this idea, I’ve realised that The Quiet Middle isn’t just about what happens to our perception of progress. It also changes the way we see ourselves.
When progress becomes harder to interpret, I think something within us can change. We can begin to question our own judgement, capability and decisions even though nothing about our actual ability has changed. It’s not like we have suddenly misplaced the skills, experience or knowledge we’ve built over the years.
We haven’t become less capable or somehow lost the ability to do what we have successfully done before. What has changed is our confidence that we can accurately interpret what is happening.
When we can’t clearly see evidence that we’re moving in the right direction, uncertainty starts to creep in. And when uncertainty appears, we naturally start looking for ways to make sense of what is happening. Sometimes that means gathering more information and sometimes it means asking for another perspective. And sometimes, without even realising it, we start questioning whether we can trust ourselves.
When capable people stop trusting themselves
One of the things I’ve noticed through years of coaching conversations is that capability doesn’t always protect us from questioning ourselves when progress becomes harder to see.
We often assume that if someone is experienced, knowledgeable and good at what they do, they’ll naturally trust their own decisions and actions. But that isn’t always the reality. In fact, some of the most capable people I work with are also some of the quickest to question themselves.
They are often the people who care deeply about doing a good job. They want to get things right. They think carefully about the impact of their decisions and they hold themselves to high standards.
These are strengths. They are often the very qualities that make someone good at what they do. But under pressure, those same qualities can create a different challenge. When you care deeply about getting things right, uncertainty can feel particularly uncomfortable.
You don’t just wonder: “Which option should I choose?”
Instead you ask yourself “Have I missed something?”.
Or worse, “Am I capable enough?”, “Experienced enough?”, “Skilled enough?”.
Slowly, we can move from seeking input because it helps us improve our thinking, to seeking reassurance because we’re no longer quite as confident in our own judgement.
This difference between having knowledge and trusting our judgement shows up in surprisingly ordinary moments. You’ve probably seen this yourself if you’ve ever done a pub quiz. Often within a team there’ll be two types of people.
The first person thinks they might know the answer, but they’re not 100% completely sure. They hesitate. They don’t want to confidently give the wrong answer and cost the team points.
The second person isn’t afraid to share what they think is the correct answer, even if it’s an educated guess. They might be right, and they might be wrong. But they’re willing to make a call.
Neither person is necessarily more knowledgeable than the other. The difference is often their willingness to trust their own judgement and take a risk that they might be wrong.
And the same thing happens in workplaces.
A person who normally makes decisions confidently might suddenly find themselves replaying a conversation after a challenging discussion. I’m sure we’ve all had that moment where we walk out of a meeting and replay the conversation in our heads, wondering whether we handled it in the best way.
The interesting thing is that our capability hasn’t changed. We still have the same experience, knowledge and judgement. But under pressure, our ability to rely on and trust that judgement can change.
When I think about capability, confidence and self-trust, I see them as connected but distinct. This is how I would define them:
Capability is what we have developed.
Confidence is our willingness to use it.
Self-trust is our belief that we can navigate uncertainty and respond to whatever happens next.
Psychologist Albert Bandura described something similar through the concept of self-efficacy – our belief in our ability to organise and execute the actions needed to deal with future situations. Importantly, self-efficacy isn’t about believing everything will go perfectly. It’s believing that we can respond effectively, whatever happens.
Why uncertainty feels so uncomfortable
So why does this happen? Why do capable people start second guessing themselves in the first place?
I think part of the answer comes back to how our brains work. Our brains are constantly trying to make sense of the world around us. Modern neuroscience suggests that our brains are essentially prediction machines, constantly generating expectations about what will happen next and updating those predictions based on incoming information.
This works beautifully when the signals around us are clear because then we know what is expected. We know what success looks like and we have a better sense of whether we are moving in the right direction.
At the beginning of something new, feedback is often much easier to find. We notice the early wins, we’re looking for the small improvements and everything is shiny and new. We get those little moments of reassurance that tell us we’re heading in the right direction. But then as we enter The Quiet Middle the milestones become further apart and the improvements become harder to notice. This is the stage where things can become both challenging and really frustrating.
We’ve all probably been told that progress rarely happens in a perfectly straight line, yet that’s often what we come to expect. Some days feel like we’re making amazing progress, whereas other days it can feel like we’ve taken a big step backwards. Maybe it even feels like two steps forward and one step back.
In reality, what’s often happening is simply normal variation. Research into learning and skill development shows that improvement tends to change over time rather than happening at a constant rate. Early gains are often easier to see, while later progress can become slower and harder to notice. This doesn’t necessarily mean we’ve stopped developing. Often, the changes are becoming more subtle or are happening beneath the surface.
But that isn’t always how our brains interpret it.
When information becomes unclear, we naturally try to fill in the gaps. And because our brains have evolved to protect us, they often pay more attention to what might be going wrong than what might be going right. This is known as negativity bias.
It was incredibly useful when our ancestors needed to notice potential threats quickly. Missing a threat could have serious consequences. Today, the threats we face are often very different. It’s unlikely that our uncertainty is coming from a tiger hiding in the bushes waiting to eat us alive. Instead, the threat might be what it means if we’re not making progress.
What if this isn’t working? What if I’m not good enough? What if I’m missing something?
Yet the brain’s response can be surprisingly similar. Instead of thinking: “Progress is probably happening, but it’s harder to see right now” we start to look for ways to reduce the discomfort of uncertainty.
Sometimes that means thinking harder. We analyse the situation from every possible angle. As an overthinker, this is something I definitely recognise in myself.
Sometimes it means replaying conversations or decisions over and over again, searching for evidence to support whatever story we have started telling ourselves. I have a friend who calls this doing a “postmortem”. Postmorteming is also something I’m very familiar with in the wee hours of the morning.
The challenge is that when we’re already feeling uncertain, our brains often look for evidence that confirms what we fear rather than evidence that progress is happening. Psychologists call this confirmation bias.
The tricky thing is that the answer to uncertainty is not always more certainty. Sometimes the answer is learning that we can still move forward when certainty isn’t available. That is one of the challenges of The Quiet Middle.
The Quiet Middle is where trust is built
The more I think about The Quiet Middle, the more I realise it isn’t just a stage of progress. It’s a stage of interpretation and trust. It’s the point where we have to make sense of what is happening without always having clear feedback telling us we’re on the right track. I think that is what makes this stage difficult.
The Quiet Middle asks us to trust the process, trust ourselves, and accept that meaningful change often takes longer than we would like.
But trust isn’t built overnight. It comes from the capability we have developed, and the evidence we have collected about ourselves along the way. Every decision we make, every challenge we navigate, and every time we find a way forward gives us another piece of evidence that we can rely on ourselves.
As James Clear writes in Atomic Habits, every action is a vote for the type of person we believe ourselves to be. Every small action also becomes evidence that we can trust ourselves to keep showing up.
So rather than thinking of The Quiet Middle as the place where progress stops, perhaps it is the place where we develop one of the most important skills of all: The ability to keep moving forward when progress is harder to see – trusting that the process is working, trusting ourselves to keep showing up, and trusting that the work we are doing matters.
Supporting your next steps
If the Quiet Middle feels familiar, it can be a frustrating place to sit in alone. Sometimes what’s most useful here isn’t doing more, it’s having a space to make sense of what’s already happening, before changing direction too quickly.
If you’re in that space right now, and it would be helpful to talk it through with someone outside of it, you’re welcome to reach out.
About the author
Josie Askin is a coach, speaker, and founder of Spring Coaching. She works with leaders, business owners, and teams navigating the space between starting well and finishing well – the part where consistency is tested and interpretation often matters more than effort.
Before coaching, Josie spent close to two decades in government and advisory roles, where she became increasingly interested in why capable people lose confidence in their own performance long before anything is actually going wrong. That question has become the foundation of her work.
Her approach blends behavioural science, practical coaching tools, and lived experience as an endurance athlete, with a focus on helping people make sense of their progress, sustain their energy, and build trust in themselves over time.
Keen to stay connected?
Follow Josie on LinkedIn, or head to www.spring-coaching.com to book a free Action Game Plan session and explore ways to work together.