Get Out of Your Own Way

Have you ever sensed that the biggest obstacle holding you back wasn’t your circumstances, but yourself? In Get Out of Your Own Way: A Skeptic’s Guide to Growth and Fulfillment, Dave Hollis—former Disney executive turned self-development advocate—asks precisely that question. Through humor, raw honesty, and personal stories that read more like confessions than corporate memoir, Hollis argues that the greatest catalyst for change comes when we confront our own self-defeating lies. He insists that transformation isn’t about finding yourself—it’s about getting out of your own way long enough to become the person you’re meant to be.

The central claim of this book is both simple and radical: fulfillment depends on growth, and growth demands discomfort. Hollis contends that we all harbor internal scripts—limiting beliefs we accepted from parents, peers, workplaces, or culture—that subtly dictate what’s possible for us. These lies might sound harmless (“My job defines me,” “Failure means I’m weak,” “Real men don’t show emotion”), yet collectively they keep us trapped, performing versions of ourselves that look impressive from the outside but feel hollow inside. By identifying and replacing these lies with honest truths, he says, “you can stop treading water and start living fully.”

The Personal Crisis That Sparked Transformation

Hollis opens with brutal transparency. Once the successful head of sales at Disney, he was at the top of his professional game—and the bottom of his emotional life. Despite external success, he was numbing himself with alcohol, detached from his wife Rachel (a successful author and motivational speaker), and spiraling into what he calls a disguised midlife crisis. His wake-up call came after a disastrous Hawaiian vacation where Rachel, fed up, told him that if he didn’t change, their marriage might not survive. This confrontation forced Hollis to face something terrifying: he was stagnating beneath a mask of productivity.

From that moment, the book becomes his candid chronicle of breaking old habits, entering therapy, and—surprisingly—embracing personal development with the same intensity he once reserved for corporate metrics. Hollis admits he was once skeptical of self-help, seeing it as “woo-woo nonsense for broken people.” But in doing the hard emotional labor of self-examination, he found that “self-help isn’t for broken people; it’s for growing people.”

From Corporate Identity to Genuine Self

The narrative structure revolves around lies that Hollis once believed and the truths that counter them. Each chapter tackles one lie—such as “My work is who I am,” “I can phone it in and be fine,” or “If she doesn’t love me, I’m unlovable.” In reframing these stories, he reframes himself. For instance, when he realized that his prestigious Disney job was giving him validation but not joy, he quit, joining his wife’s company and rebuilding his purpose around service, creativity, and impact. The result was terrifying but liberating: “I’d been worshipping my title instead of valuing my growth.”

This central theme echoes what psychologists like Carol Dweck—author of Mindset—call the growth mindset: the belief that talent and intelligence can be developed through effort and learning. Hollis merges this philosophy with experiential storytelling, showing that your job, your relationship, or your gender doesn’t determine your worth—your willingness to grow does.

Breaking the Myths of Masculinity and Success

One of the book’s most significant contributions is its challenge to the conventional model of masculinity. Hollis confesses that his inability to show vulnerability—his commitment to being the strong, unemotional man society celebrates—kept him detached from his wife, his children, and his spiritual life. Eventually, he concludes that real strength is emotional honesty: “Real men cry. Real men seek help. Real men feel deeply.”

This redefinition resonates with the work of Brené Brown on vulnerability as courage. Hollis takes her academic insights and translates them into masculine plain-speak: you’re not weak for admitting you’re struggling—you’re brave for naming it. His stories of fatherhood, therapy, and imperfection bridge the gap between the self-help aisle and the average man who might dismiss it.

The Architecture of Change

By the end of the book, Hollis distills the process of self-change into a set of disciplines: define your operating principles (a personal code of truth), commit to habits that fuel growth, focus your energy intentionally, leverage both hope and fear to propel you forward, and surround yourself with relationships that serve your higher goals. Change, he insists, isn’t spontaneous—it’s structured, daily, and relentless. “Hope isn’t a strategy,” he writes. “Habits are.”

Why This Book Matters

Hollis’s conversational tone and humility make Get Out of Your Own Way an entry point into personal development for skeptics—especially men who might never pick up a “self-help” title. It’s not a how-to manual as much as a mirror: one that reflects back your excuses and dares you to dismantle them. The stories—about quitting a dream job, facing addiction, adopting children, and unlearning perfectionism—illustrate that growth begins at the intersection of humility and responsibility. In short, this isn’t just a book about becoming better at work or love; it’s a guide to reclaiming your agency when you’ve unconsciously given it away.

Ultimately, Hollis’s message is both practical and spiritual. You’re capable of living a purposeful, impactful life—but that requires honesty, discomfort, and discipline. The lies that define your identity aren’t permanent. They’re stories you can rewrite. And once you stop sabotaging yourself, fulfillment stops being a mystery—it becomes inevitable.

Hollis begins his journey by confronting a seemingly noble but destructive lie: “My work is who I am.” It’s a trap many ambitious people fall into. As president of distribution at Walt Disney Studios, he had a dream job, a big salary, access to celebrities, and a team that adored him. Yet, paradoxically, it was the lowest point in his professional life. Instead of fulfillment, he felt emptiness—a sense that, as he puts it, “I was getting straight A’s without studying.”

The success was intoxicating, but it became a mask. Hollis realized he’d attached his entire identity to his job title, believing that promotions equaled purpose. When his external achievements peaked, his internal joy plummeted. “The lie that my work is who I am,” he writes, “kept me from becoming who I was meant to be.”

From Achievement to Self-Worth

Digging deeper, Hollis traces this compulsion back to childhood. He grew up believing that love was linked to achievement—good grades, trophies, recognition. As an adult, that same dynamic played out in his career. Each promotion was a new substitute for affection. Only through therapy did he realize he’d confused accomplishment with worthiness. Without the title, who was he?

This insight echoes themes from Brené Brown’s work on shame: when self-worth is conditional, no amount of external success can create lasting joy. Hollis reframes it with practical wisdom: “Your job describes what you do. It’s not who you are.”

Breaking the Cycle of External Validation

Hollis quit his prestigious job in what many called a reckless move. He left Disney to co-run his wife’s company, trading status for purpose. People thought he was crazy, but for the first time, he was growing again. He disarmed his identity from his profession and learned that impact, not income, defines fulfillment. The reward? Freedom. “You are enough before the commute begins,” he reminds readers.

His practical takeaway is direct: redefine success around impact and passion, not titles or other people’s applause. Your worth was never meant to be outsourced. When you internalize that truth, leaving the world’s approval behind becomes the first real act of freedom.

One of Hollis’s most radical insights challenges the toxic cultural myth that “real men don’t show emotion.” Raised with traditional ideas of masculinity, he equated emotion with weakness and stoicism with strength. This mindset worked in corporate America—but failed him as a husband, father, and human being. It made him distant and resentful, unable to express his fears until they turned into anger or escapism (notably through alcohol).

In time, Hollis realized that emotional repression doesn’t make you strong; it makes you hollow. He flipped the script: genuine masculinity is about courage, empathy, and honesty. “Feeling things isn’t the problem,” he writes. “Pretending you don’t is.”

Owning Feelings at Work and Home

After decades in leadership roles, he found that bringing emotion to business—leading with authenticity and empathy—was not a liability but an advantage. Vulnerability made him relatable, approachable, and trustworthy. It also transformed his parenting. Instead of hiding tears, he began modeling emotional literacy for his sons, teaching them that “feeling things is how we know we’re alive.”

His transformation parallels Brené Brown’s research on vulnerability as strength and echoes Simon Sinek’s advocacy for leading with empathy. Hollis proves through action that showing emotion deepens relationships, enhances leadership, and humanizes ambition.

Breaking Shame Through Authenticity

The moment Hollis began owning emotions publicly—on podcasts, social media, and stages—he discovered connection. The very truths he once hid became bridges to others struggling silently. Shame, he learned, thrives in secrecy but dies in sunlight. His lesson for readers is profound: vulnerability isn’t exposure—it’s empowerment. Once you stop performing strength, you create space for real transformation.

Hollis’s entire philosophy rests on one paradox: comfort kills growth. The desire for safety—emotional, financial, or relational—can quietly suffocate fulfillment. In his own life, security became a prison. When he finally left the Disney comfort bubble, he faced failure, doubt, and fear—but also vitality. “Certainty kept me unfulfilled; uncertainty helped me grow,” he writes.

Embracing the Growth Mindset

Drawing inspiration from Carol Dweck’s Mindset, Hollis reframes failure as feedback. He tells the story of encouraging his son Jackson to run for class president, knowing he might lose. When Jackson did lose, it became a lesson: failure isn’t weakness—it’s data. Likewise, Hollis acknowledges that many of his own pivotal shifts came disguised as setbacks—failed projects, awkward confrontations, and career disappointments that refined rather than defined him.

Addiction, Control, and the Hard Lessons of Surrender

Perhaps his most vulnerable lesson comes from confronting his unhealthy dependence on alcohol. He describes drinking “a handle of vodka in a day and a half” as his coping mechanism for anxiety and control. Sobriety became the ultimate discomfort, a crash course in sitting with feelings instead of numbing them. “You can’t numb the pain without numbing the joy.” Learning to endure discomfort transformed it from punishment into the price of growth.

For Hollis, life’s messiest challenges—unemployment, marital tension, failure—are not obstacles but classrooms. The only way forward is directly through the discomfort they create. Avoidance sustains misery; endurance breeds excellence. His mantra is simple: choose growth over comfort every time.

Relationships are another arena where Hollis learned to confront self-deception. He once believed he knew what his wife needed, that his role as a provider was constant, and that his worth was tied to being needed. Over time, these beliefs nearly broke his marriage. He discovered that true partnership requires humility, curiosity, and evolution.

Knowing Your Partner, Not Assuming Them

Through tools like the Enneagram and the Five Love Languages, Hollis dismantled his illusions about understanding Rachel. He found that love doesn’t thrive on assumption—it thrives on attention. Where he once offered “acts of service” (his love language), Rachel needed “words of affirmation.” Once he learned to love her the way she received love, not the way he preferred giving it, their relationship deepened.

Evolving Roles and Mutual Leadership

He also came to accept that marriage isn’t static—it’s dynamic. When Rachel’s career outpaced his, he wrestled with insecurity about no longer being the breadwinner. Initially, he asked, “If she doesn’t need me, will she still want me?” The answer reshaped his view of love: healthy relationships are based on want, not need. Love that depends on utility isn’t love—it’s transaction.

In the healthiest partnerships, roles shift as life evolves. Spouses trade leadership, support, and strength according to seasons. For Hollis, learning to work alongside Rachel—not above or beneath her—brought their marriage to equilibrium. His takeaway: adapting to each other’s growth is the highest form of love.

As Hollis’s worldview expanded, so did his understanding of privilege and empathy. Growing up in a homogenous community, he admits he was ignorant of the realities others faced. He didn’t have friends from different races, faiths, or sexual orientations until adulthood. His turning point came during his work at Disney, when he became an executive sponsor for diverse employee groups. He saw that listening to experiences unlike his own didn’t weaken his perspective—it enriched it.

From Ignorance to Allyship

Mentoring and learning from Black, LGBTQ+, and female colleagues revealed blind spots he didn’t know he had. Immersing himself in conversations around race and gender helped him appreciate how privilege functions invisibly for those who have it. “I’ll never fully know what others have been through,” he says, “but I can listen, advocate, and stand beside them.” This ethos inspired him to tattoo the word “ALLY” on his arm as both declaration and reminder.

The Power of Diverse Community

Community, for Hollis, is a mirror that expands empathy. He and Rachel intentionally joined a multicultural church, learning about racial reconciliation and privilege. Stories of Black parents teaching their sons how to survive police stops forever changed him. Diversity, he concludes, isn’t charity—it’s necessity. “Different experiences act as multipliers for possible solutions.” (He illustrates this with a parable about where people keep ketchup—some in the fridge, some in the cupboard—to show the value of varied perspectives.)

This awakening broadened his definition of growth: becoming more empathetic isn’t just moral—it’s transformative. You can’t get out of your own way without stepping into someone else’s story first.

The book’s conclusion condenses Hollis’s philosophy into a framework for intentional living. Self-help, he insists, only works when paired with discipline and structure. “Hope is not a strategy,” he repeats—a phrase borrowed from his Disney days but redefined for personal growth. The goal isn’t balance (a myth, he says) but centeredness—living by a set of consistent, truthful principles that guide daily choices.

The Five Anchors of Intentional Living

• Define your operating principles: Know your truths—the nonnegotiables that ground how you live, lead, and love. They replace lies with clarity.
• Commit to habits that fuel you: Your unconscious routines run your life; so rewrite the patterns that hold you back (echoing Charles Duhigg’s The Power of Habit).
• Create leverage: Use both your best-case dreams and your worst-case fears to motivate action.
• Be deliberate in focus: Guard your attention—what you consume, watch, and scroll shapes who you become.
• Surround yourself wisely: You are the sum of your five closest relationships. Curate a circle that challenges and uplifts you.

For Hollis, fulfillment is not a mystical discovery but a disciplined practice. The extraordinary life isn’t accidental; it’s constructed—decision by decision, habit by habit, truth by truth. In his words: “Whether you think you can or think you can’t, you’re right. Decide you can—and then get out of your own way.”