Your Superpower Is Holding You Back

The thing that got you here won't take you where you want to go

The other day I was rolling with one of the newly promoted black belts at Meraki.​

A guy I've always respected.

Strong, flexible, technical.

When he attacks you he has that slow methodical game that feels like a python wrapping around you—the kind you love to watch and hate to experience.

He's always late to class, which drives my old-school martial arts brain crazy, but I like him anyway. Funny how that works.

This was the first time rolling with him since I got my blue belt. I wanted to be a better partner. Not just lay there playing defense like I usually do.

So I attacked.

Used the drills I'd been practicing with my brown belt training partner, Romain. Passed his guard. Moved to high-side control. Stapled his arm down. All the technical stuff I'd been working on for months. (And of course the black belt letting me do with just enough resistance, LOL)

Then I tried to finish.

And that's where it fell apart.

Instead of using my body for pressure like I'd been taught, I reverted.

Started relying on my grips. Trying to muscle the choke with my hands instead of positioning.

The second I did that, he slipped his knee in, created space, and swept me.

Just like that.

When the timer went off, he gave me a debrief.

Told me I was doing great until I started attacking. Good pressure, good movement, good use of my body to anchor him down.

But the moment I went for the submission, I abandoned everything that was working and went back to what felt natural—strength and grip.

That's when I was most vulnerable.

He wasn't the first professor to tell me I rely on my grips too much. But he was the first to give me a detailed plan for what to do instead. Exercises, mindsets, drills. The whole technical breakdown of why it matters.

His advice?

Stop thinking about my hands. Start treating them like stumps. Use position, pressure, and movement instead of strength.

Back to square one. Again.

What Got You Here

Here's what nobody tells you about progress.

The thing that makes you successful at one level becomes the ceiling at the next.

Your strength becomes your weakness.

Not because the skill itself is bad. But because you cling to it when you should be letting go.

You see this everywhere once you start looking.

• The electrician who can wire anything by feel but refuses to learn new code because "the old way works fine." Then wonders why he's not getting the commercial jobs anymore.
• The foreman who built his reputation on being the hardest worker on the site. Now he's in management and still trying to outwork everyone instead of leading them. Wonders why his crew doesn't respect him.
• The business owner who grew their company through hustle and personal relationships. Now they're stuck because they won't build systems. Can't let go of control. Won't delegate.
• The blue belt who spent a year developing grip strength and now can't progress because he's using his hands when he should be using his hips.

Same pattern. Different context.

What worked before isn't working now. But you keep doing it anyway because it's familiar. Because it's what you're good at. Because changing feels like starting over.

And starting over feels like failing.

The Cost of Clinging

Here's what happens when you don't let go.

You plateau. Hard.

Not the kind of plateau where you're still improving slowly. The kind where you're actually getting worse because everyone else is adapting and you're not.

Your results stop coming. The respect you earned starts to fade. The confidence you built starts to crack.

You work harder but get less. Put in more effort but see less return.

And the worst part?

You know something's wrong but you can't figure out what. Because the thing that's failing you now is the same thing that succeeded before.

How can your strength be the problem?

But that's exactly what it is.

In construction, we call it "hidden rework." You think you're making progress but you're actually building on a bad foundation. Every beam you add makes the structure more unstable. Eventually it all has to come down.

On the mat, it's the guy who relies on athleticism to beat less experienced opponents. Works great at white belt. Gets him to blue. Then he hits purple belts who are just as athletic but also technical, and suddenly he's getting destroyed every round.

His athleticism didn't disappear. But it's not enough anymore.

In life, it's the person who built their identity around being tough, self-reliant, never needing help. That served them in their twenties. Got them through hard times. Made them resilient.

Now they're in their forties and isolated. No deep relationships. No one to call when things get hard. Their strength became a prison.

This is the compound cost of clinging.

Every day you hold onto what used to work, you're not just staying still. You're falling behind. Because the world keeps moving and you don't.

Strength vs. Adaptability

Here's the distinction most people miss.

Strength is what you've already built. Adaptability is your willingness to rebuild.

Strength is important. It gets you to the next level. But it won't take you through it.

Adaptability is what keeps you growing when strength runs out.

Think about it in martial arts terms.

A white belt learns a handful of techniques and drills them until they're decent. That's strength. That's the foundation.

But when they hit blue belt, those same techniques don't work the same way. Everyone knows them. Everyone has counters.

Now the blue belt has a choice.

Keep trying to force the old techniques to work. Or let go, learn new approaches, adapt to higher-level opponents.

Most people try to force it. They get frustrated. They blame the techniques, the training, their body, their partner.

The ones who grow? They let go. They empty the cup. They become beginners again in a new way.

Same thing in construction.

The electrician who only knows residential wiring can keep doing houses his whole career. Make decent money. Stay comfortable.

Or he can learn commercial, industrial, control systems. Let go of the comfort of being the expert and become a student again.

The second path is harder. But it's the only one that leads somewhere bigger.

This isn't about abandoning what worked. It's about recognizing when it's time to evolve it.

I had a 1st-year apprentice like this, he did residential for 5 years, making good money. But he was sharp and saw the ceiling so shifted gears on to a big industrial project. One of the best workers I had on my crew.

Your grip strength isn't useless. But if it's the only tool you have, you're limited.

Your hustle isn't bad. But if you can't turn it into leadership, you'll always be stuck doing instead of directing.

Your toughness isn't weakness. But if it keeps you from being vulnerable, you'll never build real connection.

Strength becomes adaptability when you're willing to let go of what's comfortable and pick up what's necessary.

The Path Forward (When Your Old Map Stops Working)

So what do you do when your strength becomes your weakness?

You don't throw it away. You build on top of it.

Here's the process I'm working through.

It's not theory. It's what I'm doing right now with my grips.

Step 1: Identify what you're clinging to

Get honest. What's the thing you keep doing because it feels safe, familiar, or "proven"?

For me, it was grips. I know I'm strong. I know I can hold on. So when things get uncertain, I default to squeezing and holding on for dear life which anchors me, prevents me from feeling and doesn't allow me to move easily.

For you, it might be working longer hours instead of working smarter. Saying yes to everything instead of setting boundaries. Avoiding hard conversations instead of leading them.

Write it down. One sentence. "I rely too much on _____ when I should be developing _____."

Step 2: Notice when you revert

This is the awareness stage. You're not trying to fix it yet. You're just watching.

When does the old pattern show up? What triggers it?

For me, it's when I'm in a dominant position and trying to finish. I feel the opportunity, I want to capitalize, and I immediately grab instead of position.

Track it for a week. When you catch yourself reverting to the old way, just notice. No judgment. Just data.

Step 3: Create a replacement, not a restriction

Here's where most people fail. They try to stop doing the thing without replacing it with something else.

"Don't grip so hard."

"Don't work so much."

"Don't be so closed off."

That doesn't work. Your brain needs a new behavior to install, not just an old one to delete.

For me, the replacement is treating my hands like stumps. Focusing on pressure, hip movement, and position instead of grip strength.

What's your replacement?

If you're going to stop working longer hours, what's the replacement? Maybe it's blocking deep work time. Maybe it's delegating. Maybe it's saying no to low-value tasks.

If you're going to stop avoiding hard conversations, what's the replacement? Maybe it's a script. Maybe it's practicing with your partner. Maybe it's scheduling the conversation before you can talk yourself out of it.

Give yourself something to do, not just something to avoid.

Step 4: Test it under pressure

This is the part that separates real change from theory.

You have to put the new behavior in a situation where the old one would normally show up. And you have to do it on purpose.

For me, that means rolling with higher belts and deliberately not using my grips the way I used to. Even if I get swept. Even if I get submitted. Even if it feels awkward and slow.

For you, it might mean taking on a project where you have to delegate instead of doing it yourself. Or having the hard conversation you've been avoiding. Or setting the boundary you've been too scared to set.

This is uncomfortable. You will fail. You will look foolish. You will feel like a beginner again.

That's the point.

If it doesn't feel like you're risking something, you're not actually testing it.

Step 5: Debrief and adjust

After the pressure test, sit down and review.

What worked? What didn't? Where did you revert to the old pattern? Where did you hold the new one?

This is where having a coach, a mentor, or a training partner is critical. They see what you can't.

The black belt who debriefed me after our roll gave me specific feedback I wouldn't have caught on my own. He told me exactly where I was doing well and exactly where I was falling apart.

You need that external perspective. Someone who can tell you the truth without letting you off the hook.

Empty the Cup (Again)

There's a black belt who shows up at our academy every few months.

Missing a leg. Stump at the thigh.

I've seen him twice. Haven't had a chance to roll with him or watch him train yet. But I think about him every time I complain about something being hard.

That guy had to let go of everything he thought he knew about movement, balance, and leverage.

Had to become a beginner in his own body.

Had to rebuild from nothing.

And he's a black belt.

That's what adaptability looks like. Not in theory. In life.

I don't know his story. Don't know how he got there or what it took. But I know he didn't get to black belt by clinging to what used to work.

He let go. He adapted. He became something new.

That's the path.

Not comfortable. Not easy. Not quick.

But real.

The Excuses (And Why They Don't Hold)

I already know what you're thinking.

"It's too hard to change what's working."

It's not working. That's the point. It worked before. It's not working now. You're just scared to admit it.

And yeah, change is hard. But staying stuck is harder. You're already paying the cost. You're just paying it in frustration instead of growth.

"I'll feel like I'm starting over."

You are starting over. In a specific area. At a higher level.

That's not regression. That's evolution.

Every belt in martial arts is starting over. Every promotion in construction is starting over. Every new phase of life is starting over.

The people who keep growing are the ones who get comfortable being uncomfortable. Again and again.

"What if I lose what I already have?"

You won't.

Your grip strength doesn't disappear when you learn to use pressure. It becomes more effective.

Your hustle doesn't vanish when you learn to lead. It becomes more leveraged.

Your toughness doesn't fade when you learn to be vulnerable. It becomes more respected.

You're not losing your strength. You're adding to it.

But you can't add to a closed fist. You have to open your hand first.

Your Move

Here's what I want you to do in the next 48 hours.

Identify one strength that's becoming a weakness.

One thing you're good at that's keeping you stuck. One pattern you keep running because it's familiar, even though it's not getting you where you want to go.

Write it down. Be specific.

"I rely on _____ when I should be developing _____."

Then ask yourself: What's the replacement behavior?

Not what you need to stop doing. What you need to start doing instead.

Then test it. Once. This week.

Put yourself in a situation where the old pattern would normally show up, and try the new one. Even if it's messy. Even if you fail. Even if it feels like you're back at square one.

That's the price of admission for growth. Discomfort. Uncertainty. Being a beginner again.

You can pay it now and move forward.

Or you can avoid it and stay stuck.

Your call.

What will you let go of so you can move forward?

Hit reply. One sentence. I want to know what you're releasing.