Get Off Your But

Have you ever caught yourself saying, “I’d chase my dream, BUT…”? In Get Off Your 'But', psychologist and motivational speaker Sean Stephenson argues that these qualifying 'BUTs'—your fears, excuses, and insecurities—are the only things truly holding you back from success. Born with brittle bone disease and given only days to live, Stephenson transformed extraordinary physical challenges into a platform for helping others overcome mental barriers. His message is simple but profound: what limits you isn’t your body, your past, or your circumstances—it’s the size of your 'BUT.'

Stephenson’s book blends his life story with six transformative lessons designed to help readers stop self-sabotaging and start living with confidence and purpose. Each lesson tackles one dimension of human development—emotional, cognitive, physical, social, or moral—and offers personal stories, case studies, and practical exercises. Through wit, raw honesty, and insight, Stephenson turns his own pain into a manual for personal freedom.

Why the 'BUT' Matters

Stephenson uses the word 'BUT' as both metaphor and mirror—it symbolizes the cushy excuses people sit on to justify fear and inaction. As he quips, “The only thing holding you back from having what you want in life is the size of your BUT.” He identifies three main categories of 'BUTs': fears (“BUT what if I fail?”), insecurities (“BUT I’m not good enough”), and excuses (“BUT I don’t have time”). These mental habits hand control of our lives to others or to imaginary barriers. Stephenson insists that recognizing and challenging these 'BUTs' is the first step to freedom.

His own life embodies that message. Diagnosed with osteogenesis imperfecta—his bones so fragile that a sneeze could break them—Stephenson grew up breaking hundreds of bones but strengthening his mind. His mother once asked him, after a painful break, “Is this going to be a gift or a burden?” That question changed his life. Pain, he decided, was inevitable; suffering was optional. The book unfolds as an expansion of that insight into a blueprint for emotional resilience and personal purpose.

The Six Lessons of Getting Off Your 'BUT'

Stephenson distills his journey into six core practices:

• Connection: cultivating deep, genuine relationships with others and yourself.
• Self-Talk: transforming your inner voice from critic to coach.
• Physical Confidence: mastering your body’s posture, energy, and signals to change your mind.
• Focus: managing attention to what you have rather than what you lack.
• Friendship: surrounding yourself with people who lift you higher.
• Responsibility: owning every result in your life and letting go of blame or self-pity.

Each lesson begins with a story—sometimes funny, sometimes heartbreaking—that shows transformation in action. For example, in Lesson One, his childhood conversation with a suicidal bus driver demonstrates how simple human connection can save a life. In Lesson Two, a phone call with a young girl ashamed of her webbed hands shows the power of changing one word: from “weird” to “memorable.” His clinical stories as a therapist and intimate conversations with mentors like Tony Robbins and Bill Clinton reinforce the power of mindset and behavior change.

The Psychology Behind the Method

Stephenson draws on ideas from neuro-linguistic programming, behavioral therapy, and positive psychology. Much like Carol Dweck’s concept of “growth mindset,” he explains that beliefs are self-fulfilling. A belief, he says, is just a thought you’ve convinced yourself is true—and your brain will gather evidence to confirm it. By interrupting negative language patterns and intentionally replacing them with empowering ones, you can reshape perception and reality. (Comparable to Natalie Rogers’ work in humanistic therapy, he stresses congruence: aligning self-image, expression, and connection.)

Living with Purpose and Responsibility

The arc of the book—from childhood pain to adult empowerment—leads to its ultimate theme: responsibility as freedom. In the final chapters, Stephenson introduces the “Freedom Formula”: C > E (Cause is greater than Effect). Living “at Cause,” he argues, means taking responsibility for how you respond to circumstances, even those beyond your control. Living “at Effect” means making excuses and surrendering power. Responsibility, paradoxically, is what frees you most, because it grants you agency over every moment.

Why This Message Matters

In a society overloaded with self-help clichés, Stephenson’s authenticity and humor make his message credible. Where other authors might theorize about empowerment, he exemplifies it: a man who cannot stand physically teaching millions to stand up emotionally. His philosophy aligns with the likes of Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning—that meaning arises not from avoiding pain but from choosing our response to it. Stephenson’s 'BUT' metaphor captures the everyday way we postpone living fully—and gives readers tools to quit hiding behind it.

By the end, Get Off Your 'But' offers more than motivation; it’s an action plan. Through connection, conscious self-talk, physical presence, focus, friendship, and responsibility, Stephenson shows how to stop sitting on your limitations and start standing up for your life—no excuses, no 'BUTS.'

Stephenson begins his first lesson with a moment that changed a life—though he didn’t realize it until years later. At ten years old, he struck up a conversation with a shuttle driver named “Boston Bill.” Unbeknownst to him, Bill was suicidal that very night. After their chat, Bill approached Stephenson’s family to say that the boy’s kindness gave him hope and saved his life. This story anchors Stephenson’s first principle: connection is the fuel of transformation. Communication alone isn’t enough; authentic emotional exchange—the feeling of being seen and cared for—is what changes people.

Connection vs. Communication

We live in an age of constant communication—texts, emails, calls—yet feel increasingly isolated. Stephenson distinguishes between exchanging information and exchanging humanity. Communication transfers data; connection transfers energy. You can talk for hours without connecting, or say a few sincere words and touch a soul. Loving attention, not quantity of words, determines the difference.

What Connection Requires

To connect, he argues, you must focus outward, not inward. Shyness stems from self-consciousness; when you stop thinking about yourself and instead focus on helping others feel seen, your anxiety fades. He gives concrete tips: ask questions that show curiosity (“What are you most excited about lately?”), listen actively, and notice emotions. As he learned from President Bill Clinton, people who master connection make others feel like the only person in the room. Clinton’s habits—remembering names, maintaining deep eye contact, adjusting tone and posture—illustrate practiced empathy in action.

Loving Even the 'Shoeless Monster'

In another story, Stephenson recalls a student throwing a shoe at him during a teaching session. Instead of retaliating, he later discovered the boy’s backstory: his father had murdered his mother, leaving him to be raised by his grandmother in poverty. “People are not their behavior,” Stephenson says; behind every act of anger lies pain seeking to be understood. True connection means looking past behavior and offering compassion. He calls this taming your Shoeless Monsters: reaching out to those who hurt you with empathy instead of vengeance.

He also recounts speaking at a maximum-security prison, where he opened with, “I’m imprisoned by my body, you’re imprisoned by your past. I think we can learn from each other.” This vulnerability bridged an unthinkable divide. Within minutes, the inmates—hardened men society had written off—were leaning forward, nodding, even smiling. It proved his major point: connection dissolves separation.

Practical Tools for Daily Connection

Stephenson suggests simple “connection games” anyone can practice: making eye contact and smiling at a stranger, playing “What I Love About You” with friends or family, or asking insightful questions that invite openness. Even quick exchanges can ripple outward—just as his chat with Boston Bill once did. He warns against using busyness as an excuse; “there’s always time for connection.” Prioritizing genuine human engagement doesn’t cost time—it saves it, by replacing conflict with cooperation.

Ultimately, this first lesson reframes connection as both a skill and a moral act. When you connect deeply, you remind others—and yourself—that we’re all part of the same human story. To get off your 'BUT,' Stephenson insists, you must first step outside your shell and into someone else’s world.

In Lesson Two, Stephenson turns inward. How do you talk to yourself? Would you speak to your best friend the way you speak to your own mind? For most, the answer is no. Our internal voice—the constant narrator—can be toxic, judgmental, and relentless. Stephenson, trained as a psychotherapist, teaches readers to reprogram this internal dialogue because words are the blueprints of belief.

The Power of Language

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” is, he says, a lie. Words can heal or kill—they shape emotional reality. In one story, a mother asked Stephenson how to help her daughter born with webbed hands. When he spoke to the girl, he reframed her difference: “You’re not weird—you’re memorable.” That single word transformed her self-image from shame to pride. Weeks later, the mother called to say her daughter now proudly told classmates, “I’m memorable!” Words changed her world.

Parenting Your Inner Child

Stephenson invites readers to treat their inner voice as a two-year-old child—one who needs guidance, not punishment. When your mind says, “You can’t,” respond gently: “I’m just scared right now.” This compassionate reparenting turns self-talk from enemy to ally. Being your own best friend means monitoring negative loops and replacing them with supportive mantras like “I am infinite” or “I am deserving.” (This echoes Louise Hay’s affirmation-based healing and cognitive-behavioral reframing.)

The 'BUT Triple Threat'

Stephenson identifies three destructive self-talk patterns: BUT fears (“BUT what if I fail?”), BUT excuses (“BUT I don’t have time”), and BUT insecurities (“BUT I’m not enough”). Each stems from distorted beliefs. To break them, he teaches practical tools like the four “What if” questions to diffuse fear, or listing hidden motives behind excuses (“I say I want this, but do I really?”). He shows that our 'BUTS' are often comfort zones disguised as obstacles.

His theory of belief mirrors neuroscience: a belief is simply a thought you’ve repeated until your brain hardwired it as “truth.” Like a planted acorn, a belief grows roots through repeated evidence-finding. To uproot destructive beliefs, you must stop feeding them and plant empowering alternatives. The brain, Stephenson stresses, will always look for proof of whatever you choose to believe—so choose wisely.

Finding the Gift in Pain

The story of Bobby Petrocelli—the man whose wife was killed by a drunk driver—embodies this lesson. Bobby could have stayed trapped in grief (“I’d forgive, BUT he killed my wife”). Instead, he replaced victimhood with purpose, becoming a renowned speaker against drunk driving. By changing his words, he transformed tragedy into mission. Stephenson uses Bobby’s example to show that the stories we tell ourselves about pain define whether we stay buried in it or grow beyond it.

Self-talk, Stephenson concludes, is destiny management. When you change the words in your head, you change your experience of the world—and, eventually, the world itself.

In Lesson Three, Stephenson delves into how your physical state governs confidence, influence, and even emotion. He credits his mentor Tony Robbins with teaching him this truth: motion creates emotion. Through conscious control of posture, breathing, and movement, anyone can cultivate grace and authority. For Stephenson—three feet tall, wheelchair-bound, once in near-constant pain—embodying confidence began in his body, not just his mind.

Mind-Body Synchrony

Stephenson explains the neuroscience behind 'the mind-body connection.' Our posture, facial expression, and breath don’t just reflect how we feel—they shape how we feel. He cites studies on the brain-gut axis showing that internal organs send emotional signals to the brain. Standing tall, relaxing the shoulders, and breathing deeply send messages of strength and calm. Slouching, shallow breathing, and rapid movement reinforce anxiety or despair.

This simple principle, practiced diligently, can alter emotional state faster than affirmations alone. For example, when working with an insecure client—an introverted man in his fifties—Stephenson first adjusted his posture: “Stretch your arms. Uncross your legs. Take up more space.” The man’s energy changed immediately. Taking up space physically translated into taking up space emotionally. Confidence, Stephenson teaches, is learned through muscle memory as much as mindset.

Slowing Down and Sensory Awareness

Modern life, Stephenson says, trains us to rush. Yet speed signals fear. Slow, deliberate movements tell your nervous system—and others—that you’re in control. He advises readers to slow their blinking, relax their shoulders, and breathe consciously. He calls this “living in your body on purpose.” Sensory acuity—attuning to micro-expressions, breathing rates, and tension in others—builds empathy and rapport (closely resembling NLP techniques).

Confidence in Relationships

Stephenson applies physical confidence to attraction and dating. Women, he says, aren’t drawn to looks but to energy. Men project insecurity through crossed arms and downward glances; women can radiate confidence through ease and movement. His friend Andréa Albright overcame obesity by focusing not on weight loss but on self-love and embodiment. As she stopped warring with her body and moved with joy, her body transformed naturally—proof, Stephenson claims, that physical confidence can reshape one’s life inside and out.

Ultimately, lesson three reminds readers that confidence isn’t mystical—it’s physical. If you want to feel courageous, stand how courage stands. Act the emotion you seek, and your brain will follow suit.

Stephenson’s fourth lesson centers on one of the mind’s most powerful tools—focus. What you attend to expands. His story begins during a simple wheelchair roll through a park, when envy and discontent spiraled him into self-pity as he compared himself with others—a neighbor’s large house, a man’s sports car, a beautiful jogger. Only when he stopped and looked around did he realize he had missed the point: “I was so busy focusing on what I didn’t have that I overlooked everything I did have.”

Attention as Creative Power

Stephenson describes focus as a flashlight in a dark room: it illuminates part of reality and hides the rest. Since the conscious mind can focus on only about seven items at once, where you point that beam defines your emotional landscape. Gratitude, therefore, isn’t sentimental—it’s neurological discipline. He shares his parents’ technique from childhood: when he wanted to indulge in self-pity, they set an egg timer for fifteen minutes. “You can cry,” they told him, “you’re just not allowed to drown.” That training taught him to process emotion, then redirect focus to gratitude.

The Dangers of Comparison

“Compare leads to despair,” Stephenson warns. Measuring your life by someone else’s creates either inferiority or arrogance, neither sustainable. True progress comes from comparing yourself with your past self. He illustrates this with humor through his “Rain Runner” story—his date who refused to cross the street in the rain for fear her hair would look bad. Her focus on image over experience cost a magical memory. Stephenson resolved afterward to surround himself only with people who, like him, would run joyfully through rain.

Reframing Stress through Laughter

When focus turns to stress, Stephenson’s antidote is laughter. He recounts getting stuck alone in a Capitol Hill elevator because his short arms couldn’t reach the heat-sensitive buttons—only to learn later they were activated by electrical current, not heat. “Who comes to work with tinfoil?” he joked. By laughing at the absurdity instead of raging at it, he transformed helplessness into a story of resilience. Humor, he teaches, instantly shifts focus from victimhood to creativity.

Letting Go of 'Fairness'

Finally, he challenges the illusion of fairness: “No one gets more or less—we just get different stuff.” His disability wasn’t unfair, nor are others’ privileges luck—everyone gets a unique deck of cards to play. The only choice is whether to play them well. That realization—accepting reality without resentment—frees focus for joy and action rather than complaint. Managing focus, then, is the art of managing meaning itself.

Stephenson’s fifth lesson is one of the most practical: your friends determine your altitude. He introduces the 'Pit Crew Theory of Friendship,' inspired by watching a race car team on TV. Just as a high-performance car relies on a skilled pit crew to refuel, tune, and replace worn parts, every person needs supportive allies to succeed. The wrong crew—those who take, drain, or destroy—can wreck your life before you even get back on track.

Takers, Drainers, and Destroyers

Takers use your resources and give little back. Drainers sap energy through negativity, gossip, or chronic complaint. Destroyers actively harm through betrayal, addiction, or manipulation. Stephenson shares real-life encounters—a 'friend' who hit on a woman he liked, another who partied recklessly and embarrassed him publicly—to show how insidious bad pit crew members can be. Allowing them, he insists, is self-sabotage.

A, B, and C Friends

He classifies relationships into three levels: A Friends (those you Always want around), B Friends (those to Be cautious with), and C Friends (those to say “See ya later”). A Friends encourage growth, tell hard truths lovingly, and stand by you through storms. B Friends alternate between support and sabotage; they may evolve upward or downward. C Friends—chronic takers, drainers, or destroyers—must be released. You can love them “from a distance,” he says, but you can’t keep them in your garage.

Being an A Friend Yourself

Stephenson cautions: you can’t attract A Friends if you’re not one. Self-responsibility extends to friendship quality. Being an A Friend means showing up, listening without judgment, offering constructive honesty, and being trustworthy. He recounts a night of emotional breakdown when two friends, John and Jeremy, quietly left a party to sit with him in a car until he cried himself through years of pain. They didn’t lecture or mock; they simply stayed. That, he says, is A Friend behavior.

He urges readers to audit their social circles: who lifts you up, and who leaves you drained? Reassign roles where needed. True friends form a protective barrier against relapse into self-sabotage. In this way, your relationships become both reflection and reinforcement of your values.

Like Jim Rohn’s adage that “you are the average of the five people you spend the most time with,” Stephenson’s pit crew metaphor redefines success as a team sport. Choose wisely, or risk crashing before the finish line.

Stephenson’s final lesson ties everything together with a single, elegant equation: C > E — Cause is greater than Effect. It means you must live at Cause, not at Effect. Living 'at Effect' is being a victim: always reacting, blaming, or making excuses. Living 'at Cause' is realizing that while you can’t control every event, you can control your response—and thus your destiny. This distinction transformed Stephenson’s life after a near-death experience in a hospital.

The Life-Review Epiphany

After collapsing from a kidney stone, he drifted into a vision where a movie of his life played before him: every loved one, every missed opportunity, then the terrifying question—what dreams would die with him? Waking, he vowed to take full ownership of his life. “Until you own something,” he writes, “it owns you.” His formula became his compass. Taking responsibility for everything—not just what’s fair—became the key to freedom.

Cause vs. Effect in Practice

Stephenson uses therapy metaphors to clarify. A woman who blamed men for her abusive past realized, after he sent her to pick up litter in a field, that others may dump trash in your yard—but it’s still your yard to clean. Responsibility doesn’t mean guilt; it means stewardship of your own recovery. Similarly, giving up self-pity—what he calls “the pity pipe”—is essential. Like a drug, pity numbs pain but perpetuates addiction to helplessness.

From Blame to Liberation

“Fairness is an illusion,” he reiterates. You were dealt your cards; playing them well is your obligation and opportunity. Living at Cause doesn’t deny injustice—it transcends it. In his business, when Stephenson stopped blaming the economy and competitors and focused on what he could create, results followed. Responsibility, he notes, always precedes power.

Learning Equals Action

Stephenson ends with wisdom from his mentor Eben Pagan: “Learning doesn’t occur until behavior changes.” Knowledge without practice is useless. If you read Get Off Your 'But' without applying it, your life remains the same. The book’s final message is clear: don’t just nod—act. Get off your excuses, take ownership, and live deliberately.

Cause is greater than Effect. Responsibility is greater than resentment. Freedom begins the moment you stop waiting for permission and start creating your life.