“The squeaky wheel gets the grease.” - American Aphorism

Two weeks ago, San Francisco experienced a weeklong heat wave.

We had the hottest recorded temperature in March. Ever.

And as fate would have it, my A/C went out on Sunday, the second day of the heat wave.

For context, my apartment has large, south-facing windows. It gets hot.

On Monday, I worked from home while juggling back-to-back Zoom meetings as beads of sweat dripped down my forehead, back and legs.

The same thing happened on Tuesday. And again on Wednesday.

Finally, it dawned on me that I should check to see if there was just an issue in my unit.

I’d assumed the maintenance team was working on the issue, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I walked to the front desk and asked, almost apologetically,

“Excuse me, my A/C isn’t working. Is it just me or is anyone else experiencing an issue?”

“Oh my gosh, you don’t have A/C in your unit? There was an issue with the power on Sunday that affected a handful of units, but we didn’t know which one’s were affected. Everything got reset that same evening though. We can send someone up to fix that for you right now.”

15 minutes later, the repairman was at my door.

He came in, reset the breaker, cycled the thermostat, and voila, the A/C in my apartment was back on within 5 minutes.

20 minutes later my apartment was back down to a cool 74 degrees.

I’d unnecessarily turned my apartment into a sauna by not speaking up for myself.

Why did I do that? Why didn’t I speak up sooner?

Well, I believe it ultimately has to do with my identity and conditioning.

I didn’t want to bother anyone or come off as high-maintenance.

I view myself as a being a down-to-earth person.

I grew up with humble beginnings and limited financial resources.

As a kid, about half of my closet was hand-me-downs or came from the thrift store.

We clipped coupons and never bought name brands.

We bought day old bread and collected bottles and cans to exchange for the recycling fee.

In the summer, when it was 100 degrees in July and August, we went to the public library or the mall, where A/C was free.

We only used the A/C when we got back home after 5pm, to get the discounted, off-peak electricity rates.

And so I learned, very early, to endure silently.

To sweat it out.

My decades-old programming fired up automatically the moment my AC broke, and I didn’t question it.

Don’t make a fuss. Don’t inconvenience anyone. Just handle it.

The problem is, I’m not a kid anymore. My financial position is a lot different now.

This story issn’t about my broken A/C. There’s a bigger point I’m trying to make.

That incident is about the principle and the pattern that it revealed.

The belief system that I have about myself. What I deserve. What I’m willing to accept and what I’m not.

I've recently started reading Psycho-Cybernetics by Maxwell Maltz. It’s a fascinating book. Maltz was a cosmetic surgeon who kept seeing patients walk in desperate for procedures they didn't need. I’m talking about conventionally attractive people that wanted surgery, but didn’t need it. It's similar to someone with anorexia who thinks they’re overweight. But they aren’t. He realized the problem was never their face. It was the self-image. His big idea is that your mind works like a thermostat; it will always pull you back to whatever identity you've set for yourself, no matter how hard you push. You can't outperform your self-image. Period. That means willpower and hustle aren't the real levers; the real lever is updating who you believe you are. Since reading this, I've been catching myself in moments where my own identity is the ceiling.

Our beliefs are like software operating systems. They continually require updating.

My software was limiting me from speaking up for myself.

And I’m not alone.

Did you know that 84% of people in the US who receive a cancer diagnosis don’t seek a second medical opinion? Meanwhile nearly a third of second opinions result in a major change to the diagnosis, treatment, or prognosis. Think about that. The majority of people, facing one of the most important moments of their lives, say nothing. They accept the first answer. They don’t want to be a bother. They don’t want to offend their doctor. They trust that someone else has it figured out.

The cost of not speaking up in a hospital room isn’t discomfort. It’s treatment delays. It’s wrong medications. Sometimes, it’s a life.

There’s a German proverb that says it better than most therapy sessions ever could:

Fear makes the wolf bigger than it is.

The wolf in my apartment was a maintenance request. It felt, emotionally, like I was imposing on someone’s day. The wolf in the doctor’s office is a simple question: “Can I get a second opinion?” It feels, emotionally, like a confrontation. Like a challenge. Like you’re calling someone a liar.

Bronnie Ware, an Australian palliative care nurse, spent years sitting beside people in the final weeks of their lives. She compiled what she heard into a book: The Top Five Regrets of the Dying. Number three on that list?

I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.

People wish they had the courage to say what was true. To ask for what was needed. To stop editing themselves for the comfort of others.

Automatic thoughts like “I’ll bother them,” “I don’t deserve it,” or “They’ll think I’m difficult” trigger avoidance — and those avoidance behaviors reinforce the thoughts in a feedback loop. The more we stay silent, the more silence feels like the only safe option.

The wolf grows every time we don’t face it.

Recognizing that your needs are real, your voice is legitimate, and asking for what you need is not an imposition; it’s just communication.

It means pre-deciding, before the moment arrives, that you will speak up.

That’s what courage actually looks like in practice. Not a dramatic stand. Not a confrontation. A quick conversation. A simple question. A need, expressed.

Just like the software on our phones has updates available but we have to choose to install them, our minds work the same way.

The update is always available.

But you have to choose to install it.

What’s ONE thing that you stayed quiet about that you wish you hadn’t?

Sit with that memory. Feel the cost of it, but don’t punish yourself. Just try to get honest about the price of silence.

What did staying quiet actually cost you? Pay attention to your emotions that come up.

This week, identify one situation coming up — or one that happens regularly — where you know, if you’re honest, that you tend to stay silent when you should speak up. It might be at the doctor. It might be with your boss, your partner, a neighbor, a service provider.

Now do this: mentally rehearse the conversation. Out loud if you can.

Picture the moment. Feel the discomfort of it — the old familiar pull toward silence. And then, in your mind, speak anyway. Keep it simple. You don’t need a speech. You just need a sentence: “Actually, I have a question.” Or: “I’d like to talk about something that’s been bothering me.” Or even just: “Can someone take a look at my air conditioning?”

Run it in your head two or three times. Notice how small the wolf actually is. Notice how the scenario you’re dreading almost always ends in five minutes — with the thing fixed, the question answered, the burden lifted.

The courage muscle, like any muscle, only grows when you use it. Start small. Start this week. Somewhere, your 90-degree apartment is waiting — and the fix is closer than you think.

With courage,

Jonathan

DailyCourage is about the small, daily acts of bravery that compound into a life lived on your own terms.

If this resonated, please share it with someone who needs the reminder.