Finding Freedom in an Average Mind

By Michael Lehrman

A few weeks ago, I watched Will & Harper. While many viewers understandably focused on gender identity, I found myself thinking about something even more universal: authenticity. What stayed with me wasn’t simply the courage to transition, but the courage to stop performing—to stop living according to someone else’s expectations and begin living truthfully.

Around the same time, I revisited another documentary from a very different perspective. This one was personal because I briefly appear in it. PEE SHY: A Documentary About Shy Bladder Syndrome tells the stories of people living with paruresis, an anxiety disorder that can make something as ordinary as using a public restroom feel impossible. Agreeing to share my story publicly wasn’t easy. Like many people who struggle with anxiety, I had spent years trying to hide the parts of myself that felt different. Yet when the documentary was finished, I experienced something I hadn’t expected. It wasn’t relief that my anxiety had disappeared. It was relief that I had stopped pretending.

That thought lingered with me until I listened to an NPR discussion about living with uncertainty. One statistic unexpectedly tied everything together. Researchers found that most people believe they are above-average drivers. Of course, statistically that can’t be true. Most of us are average.

The story fascinated me because my problem had never been believing I was above average. If anything, my inner critic had convinced me I was below average. I’ve struggled with driving anxiety for much of my adult life, and every missed turn, every hesitation, and every imperfect decision became evidence that I wasn’t a good driver. My mind wasn’t simply observing what happened—it was constantly grading me.

One day I tried replacing that harsh inner dialogue with a simpler thought: I’m probably just an average driver.

To my surprise, I relaxed. Without constantly evaluating myself, I became more attentive, more present, and, paradoxically, I drove better. That realization stayed with me because I began to see that the obstacle wasn’t driving itself. It was the pressure of believing every moment behind the wheel was a test of my worth.

As I reflected on that experience, I realized how many areas of my life had quietly become performances instead of experiences. For years, I believed happiness would come when I finally proved I was enough—confident enough, successful enough, masculine enough, calm enough. Looking back, I wasn’t really chasing excellence. I was chasing enough.

Engineer and author Mo Gawdat, in Solve for Happy, offers a deceptively simple equation: Happiness ≥ Events − Expectations. His insight is that happiness depends less on what happens to us than on the gap between reality and our expectations. That idea hit me personally. I realized I had spent decades trying to improve the events instead of questioning the expectations. I expected myself to drive without anxiety. I expected myself to walk confidently into every public restroom. I expected myself to embody some invisible definition of what a successful, confident man should be. Every time reality fell short of those expectations, I concluded that I had failed. But perhaps it wasn’t reality that needed changing. Perhaps it was my expectation that I had to be above average.

The moment I accepted that I was probably just an ordinary human being—with ordinary fears, ordinary imperfections, and ordinary moments of uncertainty—the gap between reality and expectation began to close. With it came something I hadn’t anticipated: peace.

That realization spread into another area of my life. I’ve lived with shy bladder syndrome for decades. Like many forms of anxiety, it feeds on self-consciousness. My mind convinced me I was uniquely different—that everyone else could walk into a public restroom without a second thought while I somehow couldn’t. Yet appearing in the documentary reminded me that millions of people share the same struggle. I wasn’t uniquely broken. I was wonderfully ordinary.

Looking back, I can see these weren’t separate issues at all. Whether it was driving, paruresis, performance anxiety, or my lifelong questions about masculinity, they were all asking the same question: Am I enough?

Author Sam Keen, in Fire in the Belly, writes about men’s lifelong search for initiation—a moment that finally proves they have become men. Warren Farrell has similarly described the hidden burden many boys and men carry: the belief that our worth must be earned through competence, achievement and performance. Those ideas resonated deeply because I realized how thoroughly I had absorbed that script. Somewhere along the way, I came to believe that a real man is confident, decisive, unshakable and always in control. No wonder so many of us spend our lives feeling like we’re constantly being evaluated.

Eventually, I realized I wasn’t battling driving anxiety or paruresis nearly as much as I was battling shame. Brené Brown defines shame as “the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love, belonging, and connection.” That definition changed the way I understood my life. My anxiety wasn’t simply about driving or peeing. It was about what I feared those experiences said about me.

That’s when another realization quietly emerged: Shame turns life into a performance. Anxiety is often the price we pay for trying to keep performing. Authenticity lets us finally leave the stage.

Sharing our authentic selves doesn’t guarantee understanding. Some people may dismiss our stories or see vulnerability as weakness. But the very act of speaking honestly also gives someone else permission to recognize themselves in our experience. I’ve come to believe that you can’t help the people who need your story without risking that others may not understand it. That’s the price—and the gift—of authenticity.

Perhaps that’s why the Buddhist teaching of the Middle Way has become so meaningful to me. The Middle Way doesn’t ask us to become extraordinary, nor does it ask us to settle for mediocrity. It simply invites us to step away from extremes—from believing we’re either exceptional or deficient—and to meet ourselves with honesty instead of judgment.

I’ve come to believe that authenticity begins the moment we stop ranking ourselves. None of us are simply above-average or below-average. We’re above average at some things, below average at others, and remarkably ordinary in countless ways. That’s not failure. That’s the shared experience of being human.

For most of my life, I thought peace would come when I finally proved I was above average. Instead, I discovered something much simpler.

I stopped trying to be above average the moment I accepted I was probably average. Paradoxically, that’s when I began performing at my best.

Not because I was trying harder, but because I was finally present. I wasn’t busy evaluating myself. I was simply living.

Average wasn’t where I settled. It was where I stopped fighting myself.

In a culture that constantly encourages us to optimize, outperform, and distinguish ourselves, perhaps the greatest act of courage isn’t becoming extraordinary. Perhaps it’s allowing ourselves to be wonderfully ordinary.

As Brené Brown reminds us, “What we don’t need in the midst of struggle is shame for being human.” I think she’s right.

The day I stopped asking whether I was above average was the day I finally became fully present in my own life. Maybe that’s the invitation for all of us—not to stop growing or striving, but to stop believing our worth depends on an imaginary scoreboard. Because maybe ordinary isn’t the opposite of extraordinary. Maybe it’s the doorway to it.

Michael Lehrman is co-publisher of Natural Awakenings NYC & Long Island, a health and wellness publication; a meditation facilitator; an entrepreneur; and a Senior Sales Manager with Travelzoo. An early employee at Groupon and co-founder of the Marrying Men Group, he has a lifelong interest in mindfulness, psychology, and personal growth. Through his website, Embrace the Mind, Michael writes about mindfulness and the practical application of meditation to everyday life. He lives in Weston, Connecticut, with his wife, and is the proud father of two adult children.

Michael can be reached at Michael@NaturalAwakeningsNY.com or 212-726-1420.

Resources That Inspired This Essay

The ideas explored in this essay were shaped by the work of these authors, as well as by books, films, and conversations. If this essay resonated with you, I encourage you to explore these resources.

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