The "Yeah, But" Trap: Why You Keep Explaining Away Other People's Success

You're sitting in a room full of chairs that don't quite fit right, listening to someone up front share how she hit a milestone you've been chasing for years.

And something happens in your head before you even realize it's happening.

Yeah, but she started before things got saturated.

Yeah, but she has more time than I do.

Yeah, but that's just not my season.

You clap. You mean it, mostly. But underneath the applause, there's a quiet little courtroom running in your head, building a case for why her win doesn't count. Why it wouldn't work for you. Why she's the exception and you're just… you.

I call these the "Yeah, Buts". And friend, if you've got a conference or a training on your calendar this month, you're about to meet the "Yeah, Buts" face to face.

Yeah, Buts don't only show up at conference. They show up in your Facebook group at ten o'clock at night when someone posts her numbers. They show up when you're scrolling and your former teammate is celebrating a success. They show up in your own living room, no stage required.

This isn't a once-a-year problem. It's a every-single-day-your-mind-is-open problem. Which means it's worth calling out.

I've Sat in Those Chairs Too

I've been the woman in the audience with her arms  crossed, running the courtroom in her head. Watching someone else's win and quietly building the case for why it wasn't really about her — it was luck, timing, connections, something I didn't have.

And here's what that voice cost me. Not just the joy of celebrating someone else. It cost me the lesson sitting right there in front of me. Because every time I explained away her success, I missed the chance to ask how. I missed the part where I could've learned something.

The Yeah, Buts feel protective in the moment. Like they're keeping you safe from disappointment, from trying and failing, from getting your hopes up. But really? They're just keeping you exactly where you are.

I've Also Stood at the Front of the Room

Now here's the other side of it...

I've been the woman up on that stage too. Heart pounding, hands a little sweaty, hoping, genuinely hoping, that something I said would land on somebody and give her permission to stop explaining her way out of trying.

I wasn't up there thinking I had some secret sauce nobody else could access. I was up there praying that one woman in the third row would hear it and think, maybe I could do that too.

That's the part I want you to sit with. The women you're watching from your chair? Most of them aren't hoarding a formula. They're paying it forward. They're hoping you'll believe you can do it too. Her win isn't a locked door. It's an open one, if you're willing to walk through it instead of standing there with your arms crossed staring at it and judging why it won't work for you.

Stop Building the Case Against Her 

Here's what I want you to notice next time a 'Yeah, But' shows up: you're not just having a stray thought. You're building a case. Timing, luck, circumstances...you're lawyering up against her success like it's on trial.

What if you dropped the case?

What if, instead of proving why it wouldn't work, you got curious about how it might just work? What if her success became something you studied instead of something you dismissed?

Because here's the truth: her success isn't a threat to you. It's proof of what's possible. It's not a closed door. It's a map somebody already drew, and she's handing you a copy for free if you'll just take it instead of arguing with it.

What This Actually Looks Like

This isn't about pretending you never feel a twinge of comparison. You will. You're human, and this industry puts a whole lot of women selling a whole lot of the same thing right next to each other, practically begging for comparison to creep in.

It's about what you do with that twinge.

It looks like asking, "How could this work for me?" instead of assuming you already know the answer. It looks like trying the thing that scares you a little, even when you're not sure you'll get it right the first time. It looks like sharing what you know freely, because there's room at the table for everyone to succeed. And it looks like celebrating someone loudly, publicly, generously — even when there's nothing in it for you.

That last one is the real test. Anybody can be happy for a friend. Can you be happy for the woman you don't know yet? The one in your Facebook group with a stranger's profile picture, hitting a goal you so desperately want?

There's a saying I love: Be the woman who fixes another woman's crown without telling the world it was crooked. That's usually about the hard moments — when she's struggling and you help her quietly instead of making a show of it.

But I think it applies here too. Because most of us don't just expose people when they're down. Sometimes we do it when they're up, we just call it something else.  A little side comment. A story we tell ourselves about why she doesn't really count.

Straighten her crown either way, friend. Whether she's falling apart or hitting a milestone you wanted for yourself. 

Before You Walk Into That Room

So whether you're headed into conference this month or just scrolling through your feed on an ordinary Tuesday, here's your one small shift:

The next time you feel a Yeah, But rising up, catch it. Don't judge yourself for it, just notice it. And then ask a different question instead: What can I learn from her?

You don't have to have all the answers already. You don't have to have it figured out. You just have to be willing to be a student again, instead of a judge.

Straighten someone's crown this week, without ever telling the world it was crooked in the first place.