I don't know what I'm doing.

Midlife self doubt is extra annoying.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I sat down here with the “drafts” tab open in front of me, ready to write about this new direction I’m working on for Revel + Verve, pumped to share with you some of the decisions I’ve made, the approach I want to take, the things I’ve learned, and the roadmap I’ve created. Or so I thought. But now I feel stuck. I’m hesitating to share more because nothing feels fully formed yet.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I suddenly don’t feel ready to talk about this new endeavor more than I already have because in my mind there’s still so much to figure out. What if I share something and it eventually changes? What if what I share is not well received and makes you say, “Really?” while curling your lips and scrunching your eyebrows?

I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m afraid that I’m planning something that I’m not qualified to plan, building something that no one will want, and banking on something that will not actually bring me bank. Is all this just a waste of time—mine and yours?

I don’t know what I’m doing. My to-do list keeps getting longer. I have no one waiting on deliverables from me. I find it easy to come up with 87 reasons why I can’t work on this plan right now and then I accept those reasons as truth—answerable only to myself, and I’m a pushover who is far too forgiving.

I don’t know what I’m doing. Did I blab too soon? Did I sit with this idea for long enough? Will it fail? Or worse, will it succeed? How will all of these details be worked out? How will everything come together? Who’s going to even want this? What was I thinking? Who the hell do I think I am?

I inhale deeply and then fire-breath words at my computer screen, “I don’t know what I’m doing! Stop looking at me like that!”

I feel the heat in face and the fear-butterflies in my stomach. I convince myself this is all stupid and I should just go back to my old business or get a job working for someone else. I tidy my desk, go pee for the fourth time in an hour, make a snack, change the bedsheets, sweep the backyard, organize my underwear drawer…STOP.

I whisper to myself: I don’t know what I’m doing—and it doesn’t matter one bit. Just keep going.

I write and share without a paywall. If you enjoyed this, I’d be honored to receive a coffee from you—it fuels my writing!

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