You may never be ready

Not so long ago, I was a slave to my anxiety.

Afraid to leave the house. Afraid to stay home.

Afraid to write. Afraid not to.

Afraid to take care of my kids. Terrified of what it meant if I didn’t.

At times, I was afraid of eating and sleeping.

I was afraid of being myself. Of breathing. Talking. Doing.

So I sat on the couch, knees to my chest, and worried until I thought I would throw up – and sometimes I did. Yet I did nothing about it.

My husband ran the house, paid the bills, and generally worked his ass off. Meanwhile, I was paralyzed by fear he didn’t understand, have time to digest or energy to explore. The man was just trying to survive.

If there is a place further away from ready or able to take care of yourself, I don’t know what it is.

By degrees, I had morphed from an independent, confident professional journalist into a borderline catatonic lump on the sofa.

So when he said, “We’re going bankrupt,” and “I can’t do this by myself anymore,” and “We need to talk about separating,” I sort of freaked. But not at first.

No, at first, I pretended it wasn’t happening. Any of it. I ignored being broke and the state of my marriage and my fear. Because I wasn’t ready yet.

I couldn’t get up in the morning and take a shower without having a panic attack. How the fuck was I going to make money, work on my marriage and get a grip on anxiety?

I mean, couldn’t this shit wait just a little bit longer? Perhaps in a year or so – when I may have had time to figure out how to get back to being me?

The universe has its own timeline. More often than not, some of the best things – relationships, job offers, even kids – come before we think we’re ready.

I had to figure it out. Turns out being backed into a corner was divine timing. Because I’m here – 17 years later – telling you this story.

I decided writing was the thing I should stick with. It never failed me. I found my way onto the internet. I launched a blog, then this website, then a business. I found courage, and ultimately myself, by feeling the fear and doing it anyway. Even though no part of me felt ready.

  • That ONE decision to do something before I was ready launched a successful career.
  • That ONE decision to start before I was ready brought me back to myself.

Was it easy? Hell no. Was it worth it?

Every fucking gut-wrenching millisecond.

Plus, I learned something critical: We never feel ready to make a major change, leap into the unknown, follow a dream. That’s human nature.

Guess what?

You must find the courage to do it anyway.

I’m telling you this because I’m working on hosting an online event for you.

It’s going to be big, as in jam-packed, substantial and fucking major league.

It’s going to be fun.

It’s going to be balls-to-the-wall-we-are-doing-this-get-out-of-the-way.

And it’s entirely up to you whether or not you’re invited.

Bottom line: You will show up, show off, own who you are and love it. You will be at the best you are capable of being. I will make sure both those things happen.

Because that beats the hell out of watching Seinfeld re-runs in your green Victoria’s Secret bathrobe, wondering what happened to who you used to be.

Want to know more? Go here. Now.

8 replies
  1. Olga
    Olga says:

    A decision, any decision, is better than no decision. Just do it! I couldn’t agree more. If you wait for the right moment to happen when you look back you’ll realise it’s come and gone and you’re still sitting there.
    Good luck with your exciting project!

  2. Debora Dennis
    Debora Dennis says:

    OMG…I know that crippling fear. But you truly hit the nail on the head with this post – we have to get off the couch NOW and follow our dreams. We have to actually work towards the goal and do something every single day. You inspire me to do that! Thanks for your awesome posts! 🙂

  3. Joe Hesch
    Joe Hesch says:

    I’d already started forming this poem this morning and then I read your post. That helped me finish it. I figured it was one of those artistic convergences that kick me in the ass every now and again. It’s called The Murder,
    Keep kicking and cussing, Becky

  4. Renee
    Renee says:

    In High School, my first poem I ever wrote was published.
    In College, two essays and one poem got published.

    After college, I wrote an essay and it got published in Bellaonline and another essay dedicated to my grandmother was published.

    Apparently I’m a decent writer but yet fear
    but I am scared to death to take the next step.


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