Every morning on my drive into work, I talk for about ten minutes. Just me, my phone, and whatever I’m carrying into the day. No script. Some mornings it turns into a plan. Some mornings it turns into a prayer. Most mornings it’s a little of both.
This week I got in the car and said something I hadn’t said to anybody yet. I’m tired. It feels like I’m on a treadmill that never slows down.
I’m still new in my role as Communications Director. Every time I opened my email there was another request, another expectation. Then I come home to my wife and kids, and the book, and everything else I’m trying to build. I’ve been feeling pulled on and not poured into.
And every time a new email landed, the same thought showed up. Oh man, I’m dropping the ball again.
So I kept talking. Somewhere on that drive I said it out loud. I’m excited about where things are. And I’m scared. Really scared. I feel like an imposter, like I’m just learning as I go.
Saying it didn’t fix anything. But it let me see it. And once I could see it, I could do something with it. Here’s what I did, because maybe you need it too.
I said it out loud. Not the cleaned-up version, the real one. Something about hearing your own voice say “I’m scared” makes the fear a little smaller. It stops driving from the back seat.
I separated what I felt from what was real. It felt like I was dropping the ball. But when I actually looked, nothing was falling apart. That was all in my head. The fear was loud, but it wasn’t telling the truth.
I asked the scary question all the way to the end. What if I fail? Okay. Then what? Here’s where I landed, right there in traffic. If I fail, it says nothing about my value. I have this role because it was given to me, not because I earned my way into deserving it. My worth was settled long before I opened that inbox. So I prayed the simplest prayer I know. God, I trust you. I said it a few times, because I needed to.
I looked at my plate. I’d stayed up until 11:30 more than one night that week working on something that belonged to my team, not me. Not everything on my plate is mine to carry. Some of it I picked up because I was afraid of disappointing people.
Then I picked one thing. Just one for that day. The rest could wait.
Maybe you’re not in a new job. Maybe it’s the kids’ schedules and the dishes and the text you still haven’t answered. Maybe you’re in your twenties and it feels like everyone else got further, faster. Maybe you’re standing between something that ended and something that hasn’t started yet. Whatever it is, hear this from someone who’s in it too. It’s okay to not have it all together. I don’t.
Your One Step this week
Find ten minutes where you can be honest out loud. In the car, on a walk, in the shower. Say what you’re feeling, the real version. Ask yourself what’s actually true and what’s just loud. Ask “what if I fail?” and keep going until you reach the truth about your worth. Then look at your plate and pick one thing to lock into today.
You don’t have to solve everything today. Give yourself permission to be where you are.
If you’d like a companion for this kind of work, Begin Where You Are. Get it here!
Let’s go!
Joel
