Take the Leap Anyway

There will always be a voice in your head ready to tell you why you can’t.

You’re not ready yet. You don’t know enough. Someone else is already doing it better. You waited too long. You’re going to embarrass yourself. And, of course, the grand finale that seems to show up whenever we’re considering doing something that actually matters:

What if you fail?

I wish I could tell you that once you decide to believe in yourself, that voice magically disappears. It doesn’t.

Sometimes it gets louder.

Because there is something incredibly comfortable about the life we already know. Even when we want something different, there’s safety in familiar territory. We know the rules there. We know what’s expected of us. We know who we are supposed to be.

Dreams have an annoying habit of asking us to leave that place.

They ask us to do things before we feel completely ready. They require us to learn as we go, make mistakes where other people can see them, change direction when something doesn’t work and occasionally admit that we have absolutely no idea what we’re doing.

I know a little something about that.

For years, writing was something I loved. I started writing seriously in 2019, but there is a very big difference between writing a story and deciding you're actually going to put your name on the cover and send it out into the world.

That's where things get scary.

Because as long as the dream stays safely tucked away in your head—or sitting on your computer—you can protect it. You can tell yourself you'll do it someday. You can polish it a little more. Research a little longer. Wait until life settles down.

Someday is wonderfully comfortable.

It also has a tendency to never arrive.

At some point, I had to make a decision. I could keep talking myself out of something I wanted because I couldn't guarantee the outcome, or I could take the leap and find out what happened.

So I jumped.

And here's something I'm learning on the way down:

Taking a leap of faith doesn't mean you aren't afraid.

It means you're afraid and you go anyway.

You Don't Have to Feel Ready

I think we spend far too much time waiting to feel ready.

Ready to apply for the position.

Ready to start the business.

Ready to write the book.

Ready to leave something that no longer fits.

Ready to try again after something didn't work the first time.

Ready to finally say out loud, "This is what I want."

But I'm beginning to wonder if "ready" is mostly something we recognize in hindsight.

You take the first step with shaky knees and a hundred questions. Then you take another. Eventually, you look behind you and realize you've traveled farther than you thought you could.

That's the part we don't talk about enough.

We celebrate the person standing on the other side. We see the finished book, the successful business, the promotion, the new career, the accomplishment.

We don't always see the moment before it began.

The doubt.

The second-guessing.

The cursor hovering over the button.

The conversation with yourself at two in the morning when you're wondering whether you've completely lost your mind.

I've had those conversations.

More than once.

That Voice Isn't Always Telling the Truth

Negative self-talk is convincing because it sounds like us.

That's what makes it so dangerous.

It doesn't arrive sounding like some villain determined to ruin our lives. It sounds practical.

Maybe this isn't the right time.

Maybe I'm being unrealistic.

Maybe I'm too old to start over.

Maybe I'm too inexperienced.

Maybe nobody will care.

Maybe I should wait.

Some of those questions are worth considering. Dreams still need plans. Courage and recklessness aren't the same thing.

But there comes a point when being "practical" can become a very respectable-looking disguise for fear.

I've had to learn to recognize the difference.

Sometimes the question isn't, "What if this doesn't work?"

Sometimes the better question is:

What happens if I never try?

That one hits differently.

Because failure isn't the only thing capable of leaving a scar. Regret can do a pretty good job of it too.

You Might Not End Up Where You Expected

Taking the leap doesn't guarantee that everything works out exactly the way you pictured it.

Actually, it probably won't.

You might change the plan.

You might discover something you thought you wanted isn't what you want anymore.

You might fail spectacularly at something and learn more from it than you would have learned if everything had gone perfectly.

You might have to start again.

None of that means the leap was a mistake.

Sometimes the greatest thing waiting on the other side isn't the thing you were chasing in the first place.

Sometimes it's you.

A stronger you.

A braver you.

A wiser you.

The version of yourself who finally understands that she can survive uncertainty. That she can learn things she doesn't know. That she can change course without calling it failure. That she doesn't need everyone's permission to want something more.

You don't meet that version of yourself by staying exactly where you've always been.

You have to go find her.

So Take the Leap

Whatever your thing is—the dream you've been quietly carrying, the idea you keep returning to, the change you've been considering, the thing that simultaneously excites you and scares the hell out of you—maybe you don't need another sign.

Maybe you just need to trust yourself a little more.

You don't need to know exactly how the entire story ends before you're willing to begin it.

As a writer, I probably should have figured that one out sooner.

Life, much like a good story, rarely follows the outline exactly anyway.

There will be plot twists. There will be chapters you'd happily delete. There will be moments when nothing makes sense and others when suddenly everything does.

Keep writing it anyway.

Believe in yourself enough to turn the page.

Take the leap even if your hands are shaking.

Because on the other side of fear might be something far more important than success.

It might be the life you almost talked yourself out of living.

— Bobbie Dusek