How Do I Stop Hesitating? (& Finally Believe I Can Do This)

There is something you want.

A version of your life that feels more like yours.

You don't say it out loud. Because saying it out loud makes it real, and then you have to either go after it or explain why you didn't.

So it stays where it is. Quiet. Just under the surface of an ordinary week.

It's not that you're afraid of the thing you want. It's that you don't know how to stop hesitating.

And you're afraid of the distance.

The chasm in front of you

You're here. What you want is over there.

Maybe you see a business that finally feels like yours. Maybe it's money that stops waking you at three in the morning. Maybe it's the family. Maybe it's the love. Maybe it's six months a year somewhere warm.

It doesn't matter what it is. It matters that you can see it.

That's your horizon. And the moment it appears, the ground opens in front of you.

Picture it as a chasm. There you are, beautifully manicured toes right at the edge of a deep gorge, looking across at where you want to be.

How are you going to get there?

Look at your options. You could run back and take a giant leap. You could hire a helicopter. You could sit down on the edge and think about it for a very, very long time.

None of them gets you across.

What's stopping you

Before I give you the simple answer, listen carefully.

There's a voice coming out of that chasm, and it's reasoning with you. Explaining why sitting down is the wise choice. It tells you to be careful, be cautious.

It makes sense. It makes you pause.

I call that voice Fred. He's comes from a small part of your brain that learned everything it knows from the painful lessons of your life.

Now, wait. Know this one thing about what you hear. These are not facts. They're projections.

They sound like this.

You've tried this before. It didn't work.

You don't know how.

You don't have the experience.

You don't even know where you'd start.

This is too big for you. You'll embarrass yourself.

Fred will hand you a hundred reasons to slow down and rethink. And you've gotten very good at letting him. He sounds wise. He sounds like good self-protection.

How do you feel the fear and go forward anyway?

What matters more

Fred isn't the only one in your brain.

Behind your forehead is the part I think of as the home of your Future Self. She dreams. She believes. She's quieter, and she has spent years deferring to the louder voice that keeps you safe.

She can't shout Fred down. She was never built to.

What she can do is weigh what he says and decide whether reaching the other side matters more than the risk of getting it wrong.

She can already feel what it's like over there. Living that chapter of your life.

Doesn't some part of you want to be her?

So do it. Step across to her side. Thank Fred for trying to protect you. Tell him you've decided that getting where you want to go matters more. It’s what you want. And you’re going to reach for it.

Where does that leave you? You're still standing at the edge of a chasm.

Build a bridge

Here's what happens next. You build a bridge. How?

It’s easy. And works every time. You ask a question. Who do I want to be here?

This will answer Fred’s cautions one at a time. Talking back to Fred and deciding who you are is the first plank in your bridge.

You've tried this before. It didn't work. Who do I want to be? Someone who learns from the past and uses it.

You don't know how. Who do I want to be? Someone who doesn't back down. I'm resourceful. I'll find the way.

You don't have the experience. Who do I want to be? Someone who learns as she goes. I have a whole life behind me.

You don't even know where you'd start. Who do I want to be? Someone who starts anyway, one small step. Not someone who sits down because she doesn't know what to do.

This is too big for you. You'll embarrass yourself. Who do I want to be? Someone willing to work by trial and error, because nothing grows any other way.

I've been creating this bridge with women for over a decade, and this is the plank that surprises them every time. They expect the first step to be an action. It's a sentence.

Am I a woman who turns around at the edge, or a woman who looks at the distance and stays here, stuck, unsure, frozen?

This is the decision. You can move from not enough to brave enough. Not because the fear left. Because you stopped letting the frightened one decide.

One board

Deciding who you want to be is always the first board. 

Nobody jumps a gap that size.The smaller the step, the easier it is to take. And each one becomes proof that you can move.

That's the bridge. It gets built almost without you noticing, until one day you look back and see that you've crossed.

The chapel over the fence

There's a park in my city with a wooden bridge in it, and at the far end, over a fence, a small chapel.

About 2 years after my first marriage ended, I started walking on that bridge almost every day. Lost. Alone. Uncertain about everything.

But I could see something at the end of it. A dream. To find out what real love looked like, once, before my life was over.

Every plank became a step built out of what I was learning. What a good relationship looked like. How to ask for what I need. How to trust. How to receive. How to believe in who I was.

One foot in front of the other. 

Then, one day, the chapel surprised me. I realized it wasn’t just a building. It was a picture of me. Whole. Healed. Certain. Choosing a life I wanted.

The bridge did not carry me right to the door of the chapel.

It made me the woman who could be brave enough to step into that life.

The chapel was never the horizon. She was. I’ve used this to build bridges to what I want and to help other women build their bridges ever since.

Your horizon isn't mine. Yours might be a boardroom, or a book, or a quiet house near water. However yours looks, there’s one thing to know. Reaching it is not truly the destination. 

The woman you become on the way across is the real far side.

Tiny Brave Steps

Take a piece of paper and draw it. You on one side. What you want on the other. It doesn't have to be tidy.

Fill the chasm with what's honestly causing your hesitation. Every line, in Fred's own words.

Pick the loudest one and answer it with your response to, “Who do I want to be?”

That’s the first board on your bridge. From the courage you find there, the next one will appear. Then the next.

Where to go from here

If you want help finding your board, the Tiny Brave Steps Generator will help you create your first one. Have a conversation with it, describing your horizon and what your hesitation is saying. Ask for help to find your answers to "Who do I want to be?"

And if you'd rather not draw your bridge alone, that's what Creative Spaces is for. It's where we find our way back to the women we already are.