I Can Make That - A Recipe for Confidence

Delicious Slice of Apple Pie

I baked a pie. A kick-a$$ apple pie if I do say so myself. The crust was flaky and the filling had just the right amount of cinnamon. The apples were sweet and firm enough to hold up when slicing, so as not to spill out everywhere.

Why am I sharing this? Because as I ate the pie, I realized that there is one area in my life where I don’t doubt myself and that is when I bake. I have no formal training. Just curiosity and the joy of creating yummy things to eat. How did I get here? I have no clue, but what I do know is that I want this type of confidence in more areas of my life.

As you may know by now, my passion is to help people live limit*less lives by letting go of the beliefs that hold them back. I believe when we acknowledge and talk about these beliefs we bring them out from the shadows, so they are easier to release. But what’s funny, I don’t ever remember having a limiting belief about baking. Sure, the inner critic will chime in every now and again and comment on the presentation of the baked good or if the texture was light enough. Yet, there has never been a time when I thought I couldn’t bake something.

Any time we try a new desert, I think – I can make that. I find a recipe, follow the directions and ta da – I’ve made something new. My family reminds me often that it’s not that easy, but to me it is.  

If I were to think about how I started baking, at first, it was just for fun. My grandfather was an amazing cook/baker and was known for his lemon meringue pie. Granted it could have been through osmosis or genetics, but I don’t really remember him teaching me how to bake. As I grew older and had a family, I preferred baking versus store bought treats. At least when I baked, I recognized all the ingredients. Then when we moved to Colorado, what used to be fun became more of a necessity. Living in suburbia, there were no little bakeries like we used to frequent back east. So, if we wanted cheese Danish, I had to make them. If we wanted scones, I had to make them. What started out as fun turned into a necessity that I still receive great enjoyment from. It also doesn’t hurt that I have an amazing cheering section. My family seems to love everything I make, even if I don’t agree.

Now I’m not saying I haven’t had any failures. Baking at over 5000 feet above sea level can have its challenges, but it never deterred me. I learned from the mistakes, tried new recipes, and created my own. I will admit however the perfect chocolate chip cookie and homemade pop tart that doesn’t leak still evade me.

When I analyze the areas of my life where there is doubt, I realize that I don’t look at it the same way as I do baking. A new challenge arises, I’m not saying – “I can do that.” More often than not, I am saying “How am I going to do that?” or “Can I do that?” I also don’t look at it with the same curiosity and enjoyment.

The limiting belief that rings in my head when I feel doubt is perfectionism. I have the expectation that it must be a certain way versus just tasting good. I give myself grace when baking, knowing that there may be factors out of my control. For instance, if the baking powder isn’t fresh, or if the dogs are wrestling in the kitchen or my son is stomping through the house. Those factors impact how much the baking rises or if it falls.

Perfectionism doesn't make space for grace, and it certainly doesn't make space for curiosity. Curiosity invites experimentation, and experimentation comes with mistakes. To a perfectionist, mistakes aren't part of the process, they're proof of failure.

By slowing down and savoring that slice of pie, I realized it was never really about baking. Somewhere along the way, I gave myself permission to be a beginner. To experiment and trust that if something didn't turn out, I'd simply learn and try again. I never attached my worth to the outcome. I just enjoyed the process.

So now I'm wondering...

Where else in my life would confidence naturally grow if I approached it the way I approach baking?

Maybe that's the recipe after all.

A pinch of curiosity.

A generous helping of grace.

A willingness to fail.

And the permission to believe, "I can make that."