It’s Day One of my doctoral program. YEAR NINETEEN, if we’re counting. (Of course we’re counting. Also, you know I took a First Day of School photo like a damn proud kindergartener.)
But, between us, even now, with a couple of bestselling books, a thriving speaking career, and a few decades of professional experience under my belt, I still feel that funky cocktail of excitement and terror at the idea of starting something new. And I’m telling you the real truth: I’m already overwhelmed by the amount of work that’s been assigned.
Did my older son teach me how to find assignments in Canvas? Yes.
Did my younger son teach me how to turn off the chaotic dashboard and view a nice, sane list? Yes.
Did both of them laugh at their prehistoric troglodyte of a mother? Also yes.
This week, I learned a few things:
- After being suuuuuuuper annoyed at the tone of most academic writing, I googled around to understand why it’s so needlessly opaque and learned the word “sesquipedalian,” which means puffed-up, needlessly complex writing. So, yeah, it’s going to be a long, sesquipedalian three years.
- I miss my notebooks. I miss the feel of learning with my hands. This whole “cloud” legend seems… new fangled. My queendom for a Trapper Keeper!
- And most importantly: The hardest part of hard things isn’t the hard. It’s the doing.
Because I’m a nerd, of course, I have to give you the science: The Osviankina Effect tells us that our brains hate unfinished business. The second you start something—anything—your mind becomes obsessed with completing it. That first step? It’s rocket fuel for this urge. Momentum isn’t magic. It’s biology.
It’s also a trap. You want to do the thing, but you don’t feel confident enough to start the thing. So you wait. You stall. You sesquipi-do-nothing.
So, here is my question for you: Why must you wait to feel confident before you begin? Confidence is a result, not a prerequisite. Competence comes first. And competence? Only shows up once you do the thing.
If you want confidence, you have to earn it. And you earn it by stepping into the mess. By starting before you’re ready.
The one thing I know to be true this week is this: Confidence doesn’t come first. Competence does.
Cool, but how do I start?
When I once asked friends to describe me for a rebranding exercise, my wicked smart friend Liane Davey (who also has a PhD, by the way) said, “What I respect about you is that you are limitless but not fearless.”
So don’t fall for the fearless fallacy. Don’t wait to be certain. Don’t psych yourself into being brave for the rest of your life. (And you can turn your stress into something useful, by the way, with my other friend Rebecca Heiss’s new book Springboard (And, also she is a PhD too. See? It’s all the rage.)
So how do I do it? Here’s the two-step process that keeps me moving forward:
Step One: Be brave for 60 seconds. Not the whole hour, not the whole speech, not the whole year. Just the beginning. That’s all you need to break the inertia and tell fear to take a damn seat. Be brave for 60 seconds. The first minute. The first step. The first “submit.” That’s all it takes to shift from stuck to started.
Step Two: Make a Plan B. Know what you’ll do if you totally sh*t the bed. Write it down. Stick it in the bottom left drawer. Then forget about it. Safety net: intact. Now fly.
But here’s the kicker…
But don’t expect it to get easier. Every milestone leads to a new precipice. More opportunity, more pressure, more responsibility. And if you’re doing it right, every new level feels like Day One all over again…
That anxiety-laced thrill you feel? That’s not failure. That’s Wonderhell.
Wonderhell is the space between what you just accomplished—and the new version of you who now knows you’re capable of more. It’s ambition’s aftertaste. It’s success and stress, all tangled up together.
If you’re sitting in that liminal place, wondering what’s next and terrified of what it demands? You’re not alone. You’re not broken. You’re just becoming.
And if you’ve ever wondered why success feels so hard, or why your sales team, your career, or even you personally feel stuck at the next level, it’s not because you can’t do it. It’s because you haven’t learned how to thrive in Wonderhell.
That’s exactly what I dig into in my talk on TED.com. Join nearly 3M people who have watched this talk and let me know what you think.
PS: Not All New Beginnings Require Leaving the Nest
Now, just because I’m going back to school doesn’t mean I’m packing up my life and leaving the nest. (Been there. Done that. Still doing laundry for my kids when they visit.)
But if you’re finding yourself in an empty nest season — with more space, more time, and maybe a little bit of panic about what’s next — I shared some advice on Access Hollywood that might help. Watch it here: Access Hollywood – Empty Nesting Advice
Because doing something new — especially becoming someone new — doesn’t stop when the kids move out. It might actually be when it starts.
So, what’s your next?
Let’s go.
