I’m Afraid to Publish This

I’m afraid.

I am afraid that my family and friends will think I’m dumb.

I am afraid that strangers will talk about me and judge.

I am afraid to the point of paralysis.

Instead of trying and failing, I opt to do nothing. Which is the ultimate form of failure.

I have often told myself that I am a courageous and curious person. And yet, when push comes to shove, I cower behind excuses.

The excuse that I have been allowing to constrict around my neck and weigh me down is my attempt to write a book about Project 30.

Here I am trying to write the story of my project to celebrate turning 30 years old, and finding myself too afraid to write. I am too afraid to write about it because I keep thinking about the judgments that only exist in my mind.

They aren’t real, and yet they are real enough to stop me from telling my story.

So this post is my attempt to step in front of my fear and face it down. This post is where I tell you, dear friend, that I am afraid of what this next step will look like, but that I am going to try to stand tall and face it. This post is me telling you that I will be posting my rough draft chapters of Project 30. This post is me standing up to my fear of asking for help by asking for your help.

This post is my ask to you to help me get over the fear of publishing my Project 30 story.

Starting next week, I’ll publish one chapter each week here on the blog. Rough draft. Unpolished. The real thing.

I need you to read them.

Not to tell me it’s good. Not to make me feel better about myself. I need you to read them because the only way I will finish this book is if I know someone is waiting on the other side.

I need the accountability of your presence.

So here’s what I’m asking: Follow along. Read the chapters. If something moves you or pisses you off or confuses you, tell me. If you have questions about what happened or why I made certain choices, ask them. Your engagement—even your silence that lets me know you’re there—will be the thing that keeps me moving forward.

This is me asking for help in the most uncomfortable way I know how.

Will you help me?