You’ve Changed
Let’s take a moment to honor that.
We're at The Elms, a 1901 “French” chateau in Newport, Rhode Island, standing outside under a leafy turnaround where horses and carriages once circled to drop off food, supplies, and staff.
My parents and I are on the servants’ tour, and the guide explains this space was designed so the wealthy owners never had to see the help come and go. Everything was supposed to happen like magic – effortless, invisible. They even joked about the estate being run by elves.
As we move into the mansion itself my dad has to bow out. The servants lived at the top of a winding staircase that never seems to end, and with his upcoming knee surgery, the climb just isn’t happening. He waits for us in the café, still wearing his visitor’s badge when we meet him afterward.
“I’ll give this badge back,” I tell my mom. “And ask if they’ll refund his ticket.”
“It’s OK, you don’t have to,” she says. “I doubt they’ll give the money back.”
I can tell she doesn’t want to step into this potential conflict.
But I’m happy to.
Years ago, I would’ve talked myself out of it. Worried I’d upset someone. Embarrass myself. Be seen as difficult.
But this time, I walked right in.
I explained the situation – kindly, calmly, honestly. I didn’t make a big deal about it. I also didn’t shrink.
And after a short back-and-forth (and two rounds of “let me check with my supervisor”), they gave us the refund. $25. No panic. No drama.
A win for introverts who make the ask – and for anyone practicing courage in small, everyday ways.
Hercules Moment
But it wasn’t just about the $25.
The bigger win was choosing to step into potential discomfort for a purpose. It was about practicing something that used to feel terrifying – voicing a request, entering a moment of possible tension – and realizing I felt fine.
This is how we rewire our brains for confidence – through small, repeated acts of courage. Tiny stretches. Willingness to feel awkward or be told no. Doing the thing that scares you, until it doesn't.
To my knowledge, we don’t have magical elves that can do this for us – we need to put in the work, and to pay attention when we do.
We have to notice when we choose a healthy challenge over autopilot, especially when life gets hard. I call this a Hercules Moment – when we come to a fork in the road and decide to take the path of integrity (short-term pain but long-term flourishing) over impulse (short-term pleasure but long-term pain).
This is what Hercules did. I’ve talked about this on the podcast before: He came across two women – Vice and Virtue – and chose the virtuous path. He wouldn’t have become Hercules as we know him if he hadn’t chosen the route that made him strong.
Divine spark
And while we don’t have elves to help us with this, the Stoics said we had something else: an inner wisdom – a daimon, a divine spark – to guide our actions, if we choose to slow down and pay attention.
When we continuously choose right action – lots of small steps moving us forward – this adds up to a mountain of proof of what we’re capable of.
These internal shifts happen so slowly, we don’t recognize them while they’re happening.
It’s like the seasons changing – summer slipping into autumn. You don’t notice the leaves turning one by one, but then one morning, you’re walking through a forest of red, orange, and gold.
Lasting transformation rarely arrives in one dramatic moment. It tends to show up through small, deliberate choices that stretch you just a little beyond your comfort zone.
Pay attention to the evidence. Honor how far you’ve come.
Let that support you in whatever comes next.
I work with thoughtful people who want to communicate with more clarity, courage, and ease. Visit sarahmikutel.com