The pride-shame cycle

Navigating the whiplash and tug-of-war of real creation. And finding ways to rekindle our momentum.

I just wrapped two and a half days of recording in my home studio. And I wish I could tell you it was pure bliss—full of inspired takes and captured magic.

It wasn’t.

Rather, it was a negotiation, a minute-by-minute tug-of-war between confidence and doubt. I’d play a track back and feel like I’d cracked a code, only to move on to the next and wonder what right I ever thought I had to call myself a musician. Pride. Shame. Pride again. And so it goes.

But this is maybe the central throughline of the creative process. The war stories of “making it”, the finished product, they all have a middle. The chaotic, shapeless, slippery middle. Where the thing we’re making is no longer an idea, but not yet something you’re proud of. Ironically, the former on its own is something to be proud of.

The most disorienting part, and the one I’ve been mulling, is the speed of it all. And how it changes by the minute.

The quiet war under the work…

The pride–shame cycle is exhausting not just because of the emotional toll, but because it hides itself inside the work.

We don’t always see it as pride or shame. Sometimes it looks like doing thirty takes (a very bad habit). Or tweaking the mic settings hoping to skirt the blame. Or keeping something that should have scrapped entirely because you’re no longer sure you were ever right.

And in that tug-of-war, there are two versions of ourselves. And it becomes hard to tell which version of ourselves to believe. It feels like two diametrically opposed voices: an inner champion and the insecure critic. But it’s sides of the same self, speaking up from the same (deep) roots.

Some want protection. Some are inspired. Some want to avoid embarrassment. Some are keen to rain it down upon you. It’s complicated because we’re complicated. Past experiences, subconscious standards, self-comparison—they’re all in the room, pressing their fingerprints against the same trackpad.

…and the truth inside shame

But inside the shame, there’s an opportunity for a shift: what if that shame is useful?

Not in the “you must suffer for art” way. But in the sense that shame—even misdirected—is tethered to our standards. Our very real belief that a thing could be better. Seeing potential can be painful. But that pain isn’t so much weakness as the price of having a vision.

The pain we feel in the creative process isn’t always a sign that something’s wrong. It’s just as much:

• evidence that we’re not numb

• a statement that we’re still in pursuit

• a reflection that we haven’t let go of the part of ourselves that believes

Which makes it a game of resilience. A game where the object is suffering pride and shame without stuffing them down, or running from them.

Moving goal posts indeed. But every time we push through, we create a memory that says: “This feeling isn’t the end. It’s just part of the path.”

---

The strange companionship of ideas

We treat ideas like they’re ours to command. Like tools or drafts or to-dos. But anyone who’s followed an idea long enough knows: they have a life of their own.

Some show up quietly. Others latch on. They haunt. They disrupt your sleep. They whisper when you’re trying to rest.

And still, we stay. Not out of obligation, but recognition.

At a certain point, the idea becomes something you’re in relationship with. Something to be in service to. It asks us to pay attention. To change. To grow into the person capable of carrying it forward.

That’s the strange companionship of creation. It doesn’t always show up cleanly. But when it won’t let you go, that’s a signal.

That’s the point

This isn’t about erasing shame. Or always choosing pride. And it’s absolutely not about tricking yourself into confidence.

It’s about staying in the room. It’s about fighting for your idea when you believe in it… and sometimes, letting it drag you forward when you don’t.

It’s about recognizing that the moment you feel the sharpest self-doubt is often the exact moment you’re standing on the threshold of something meaningful. That “I’m not ready” feeling? Sometimes it’s a compass pointing right where you should go.

It’s about fighting for your idea when you believe in it… and letting it pull you forward like a stubborn mule when you don’t.

It’s about momentum as a survival strategy. Not for winning. Not for glory. But for curiosity’s sake.

You don’t have to know where something is headed.

You just have to stay long enough to see what’s waiting on the other side.

---

Every cycle has an inherent metric

Every loop we run—whether creative, social interaction, or personal achievement—has a built-in measuring stick. And once you find it, you can wield it.

For the loop of pride and shame, the simplest and most telling metric is always going be the ratio: how many counts of shame versus how many points of pride.

When shame shows up more than pride, we slow down, avoid risks, and shrink the scope of our ambitions. When pride tips the scale, we lean forward, experiment more, and build momentum.

Something I’m trying: the next time I enter the studio or sit down to write, I’m going to keep a little post-it with two columns:

1. On the left: Pride

2. On the right: Shame

Each time I give myself a pat on the back or find myself jamming to a melody or laughing at a bit of my own prose, I’ll add a tick to the left column. Conversely, when I cringe, silently bemoan, negatively self-compare, or feel that urge to stop or quit, I’ll add one to the right.

Here’s the trick: the ratio itself is more important than the raw counts. If there’s shame 10 times but pride 30 times in the same period, that can still mean moving in a positive direction. Because it’s really about the direction the ratio moves over time.

The goal isn’t to erase our shame entirely. It’s to make sure pride is the dominant pulse. Therein lies the real opportunity of altering our pride-shame cycle.

---

AI prompts to take you in a new direction

What if the untapped skill isn’t keeping momentum—but restarting it?

Restarting momentum is not a flash of inspiration or a lightning bolt of clarity. It’s friction and grunt work: re-reading your messy draft, opening your half-finished project, making one tiny, embarrassingly small decision to break the guilt.

If momentum is the lifeblood of creative work, then learning to resuscitate it on command is the superpower.

There are some strong ways AI can help us fight this fight (practically).

AI can be a “momentum defibrillator” when we’re stalled in the pride-shame cycle. Think about it in terms of shortening the time between “stuck” and “moving again.”

Diagnose the stall point

This external lens catches the spots you’re avoiding.

I'm currently working on {TASK} and having trouble finishing it. Ask me three questions about this work-in-progress. Our goal is to answer the following question: Where did my energy drop off? 

Identify the types of moments that feel flat, repetitive, or avoidable.

TASK = "[e.g. draft, outline, song lyrics, design concept]"

Generate low-stakes next steps

These aren’t “finish the project” tasks. They’re bite-sized, momentum-friendly prompts.

My creative task is: {TASK}. Give me three micro-actions I can take right now to push this creative task forward, each requiring under 15 minutes.

TASK = "[Develop the bridge for my song, finish writing two chapters, etc.]"

Rekindle creative curiosity

Suddenly, the project becomes a playground again instead of a pass/fail test.

When shame is loud, curiosity is quiet. I'm trying to reframe a stuck moment that I'm in RIGHT NOW. 

Suggest five alternative angles I could explore from this exact point in my process, without scrapping what I have.

Build a “momentum library”

Next time you’re in the pride-shame cycle, you’re not starting from zero. You’re starting from “here’s what’s worked for me in the past.”

I'm providing you a list of my own recurring breakthroughs, including:

* phrases and fragments
* design ideas and content wins
* problem-solving successes

First, analyze this list of events and find a throughline. How have I pulled myself out of stalls or lulls in creativity before?

-- List START --
[Copy/paste list of breakthroughs/events here]
-- List END --

Automate the warm-up

Think of it like a trainer putting weights in your hand—no decision-making, just action.

Create an AI-powered warm-up sequence. I want a 2-minute set of prompts, questions, or small tasks that you deliver to me for those moments when “I’m stuck.”

---

Whenever you're ready, here’s how I can help you:

1. Level up with 1:1 coaching: Get tailored support in prompt design, creative workflows, or AI strategy. Whether you're a writer, leader, or product thinker, I’ll help you use AI to create faster and smarter—without losing your voice.

2. Grab my Prioritization Power Stack: Not ready for coaching or consulting? Check out the first in my library of plug-and-play prompt packs—a closed-loop productivity system that eliminates busywork.

3. Book a training or workshop: From half-day bootcamps to role-specific trainings, I help teams unlock practical use cases, establish smart guardrails, and build momentum with clear, no-jargon frameworks.

---

Other reads from AI Artistry