KBN

I write these reflections each week about the psychology of decision-making, relationships and the small moments where our lives quietly change direction. Often they begin with something I have seen in a coaching conversation, or a moment in the news that makes me pause and think about human behaviour a little differently.

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This week it began with an interview.

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Listening to Gisèle Pelicot speak about finding love again made me reflect on courage and the risks we decide to avoid in our own lives.

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Gisèle Pelicot

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Earlier this week I watched the Newsnight interview with Gisèle Pelicot.

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If you followed the recent trial in France you will recognise her name. Pelicot became a central figure in one of the most disturbing criminal cases in recent European history after it emerged that her husband had spent years drugging her and allowing dozens of men to assault her while she was unconscious, recording and sharing the abuse online.

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During the trial she made the remarkable decision to waive her anonymity so that the proceedings could be public, saying that shame should belong to the perpetrators rather than the victim. Her decision to stand openly in that courtroom has rightly been recognised as an act of extraordinary courage.

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Yet the moment that stayed with me came right at the end of the interview.

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Almost in passing, she mentioned that she had found love again with a new partner.

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I found that deeply moving because if anyone had reason to conclude that men were fundamentally untrustworthy it would surely be Gisèle Pelicot.

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Her courage is often discussed in terms of speaking publicly about what was done to her.

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But there is another form of courage in her story that deserves attention as well. It is the courage to risk love again after experiencing the very worst of human betrayal.

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Listening to her say that made me think about something I wrote about recently.

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In that piece I was reflecting on why intelligent women sometimes avoid the risks involved in falling in love or dating again. When a relationship has ended painfully, the mind becomes extremely good at gathering evidence that stepping back into uncertainty is simply not worth it.

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Watching the interview reminded me how often the same pattern appears in other areas of life.

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The risk that feels bigger than it is

 

This week I caught up with several former clients, and one conversation in particular brought the idea into sharp focus.

He works in television, which for those outside the industry can be difficult to fully appreciate as a career environment. Television operates largely as a freelance ecosystem in which work arrives project by project rather than through permanent roles, and employment depends heavily on relationships, reputation and timing. When commissioning slows, as it has over the past year, large numbers of experienced and talented professionals suddenly find themselves without work. Not because their ability has diminished, but because fewer programmes are being made.

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Despite being in his sixties, he is one of the few people I know who has managed to remain consistently employed during this downturn.

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During our conversation he reminded me of a moment from when we first worked together that he now sees as pivotal.

At the time he knew that an executive producer he had worked with previously was staffing a new series, yet he had already decided not to call him. His reasoning sounded entirely sensible. If the producer wanted him, surely he would have called.

When we slowed the thinking down it became clear that what he was really avoiding was the possibility of rejection.

He imagined making the call, hearing that there was no role for him, and feeling the sting of that refusal.

So we examined the situation more carefully.

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If he did not make the call, he would remain exactly where he already was. Unemployed.

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If he did make the call and the producer said no, he would also remain exactly where he already was. Unemployed.

The only difference was that in the second scenario there was at least the possibility that the answer might be yes.

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He made the call.

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He got the job.

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The stories we tell ourselves

 

I recognise this pattern easily because I have caught myself doing exactly the same thing in my own professional life. There have been occasions where I have hesitated for months before pitching an article idea to a health editor because I assumed it would probably be rejected, only to finally send the email and receive an immediate yes.

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Each time it happens I find myself wondering why I spent so long predicting a negative outcome that existed only in my imagination, particularly given that the risk involved was nothing more dramatic than sending a single email.

Again and again I see the same dynamic with clients. People predict a negative outcome with great confidence and then organise their behaviour around avoiding that imagined result.

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Our minds are extraordinarily persuasive when they are rehearsing reasons not to act.

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Which brings me back to Gisèle Pelicot.

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In different ways, the television producer making the phone call, the client initiating the difficult conversation, and Gisèle Pelicot allowing herself to love again are all doing the same thing.

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They are refusing to let fear write the final conclusion.

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Because the things we most value in life, love, meaningful work, connection and growth, all sit on the other side of uncertainty.

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The risk never disappears.

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But neither does the possibility of something better.

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