I sat in front of a camera recently and opened a puzzle I had never seen before in my life.
No practice. No idea of the rules. Just me, a grid full of colours, and a cursor blinking back at me.
For about two minutes, I had absolutely no idea what I was looking at.
Sound familiar?
That exact feeling, the blank, slightly panicked “I don’t get this yet”, is one most of us try very hard to avoid in front of other people. We’ll sit quietly in a meeting rather than ask the question that marks us out as the one who doesn’t understand. We’ll put off the new piece of software, the new process, the new role, because the first few minutes of not knowing what we’re doing feels like proof that we can’t do it.
It isn’t proof of anything. It’s just stage one.
I wrote a version of this idea a while back, about social awkwardness specifically. The same point applies here: a skill you don’t have yet isn’t a fixed part of who you are. It’s something you build, in small, deliberate steps, the same way you’d build any other skill. The confusion at the start isn’t a verdict on your ability. It’s just what learning feels like before it clicks.
Here’s the part people skip.
It clicks faster than you think, and it clicks through repetition, not talent. Not one heroic effort where you grit your teeth and push through. Little, regular attempts, bruised ego intact, beat one big push every time.
Back to that camera. I did eventually work out the rules of that puzzle. I was still slow, and I made some ridiculous mistakes along the way. But the two minutes of “I don’t get this” turned out to be the opening stretch, not the whole story.
So, next time you’re staring at something new, whether it’s a tool at work, a process your company has just rolled out, or a conversation in a meeting you’re nervous to join, try this:
Notice the “I don’t get it yet” feeling, and name it exactly that. Not “I’m bad at this.” Just “yet.”
Give yourself one small, specific, repeatable go at it, rather than a single big attempt you’re hoping will fix everything.