Have you ever done something big without fully considering the consequences?

Not because you were being reckless, but because you were so focused on why you wanted to do it that you didn’t spend much time thinking about what might happen afterward.

When I wrote my book, Being Whole, I was focused on the people I hoped it would help. I thought about those with similar experiences and knew I couldn’t be the only one who felt what I felt.

What I wrote was raw and vulnerable. I shared experiences, thoughts, and feelings that I had spent years trying to understand myself.

What I failed to consider was that people I knew, or might meet someday, would suddenly have access to some of my deepest, darkest thoughts and experiences.

I remember being at the grocery store shortly after the book came out when someone I knew casually mentioned, “I read your book.” I was shocked. Then a little embarrassed.

Of course people were going to read it. That was the whole point. But somehow, until that moment, I hadn’t really considered what it would feel like to stand in front of someone who knew so much about me when I knew so little about what they thought.

Recently, I was talking with someone who wanted to read my book before we went on a date. After they did, I never heard from them again. I can laugh about the absurdity of that now, at least a little. I think their decision says more about them than it does about me, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting.

There’s something uncomfortable about knowing that people can form opinions about you based on experiences you’ve chosen to share, especially when they don’t know the person you’ve become since.

But you know what?

I’d do it all over again.

If I had stopped to consider every possible way things could go wrong, I might never have written the book.

If I had worried about who might no longer like me, how someone’s perception of me might change, or the judgment I could face, Being Whole might not exist today.

And I would have missed so much.

I’ve had the great honor of having countless conversations because of that book. It has connected me with people and taken me into spaces I might never have encountered otherwise. Those experiences have enriched my life, broadened my perspective, and continued to help me heal.

None of that would have happened if I had allowed my fear of other people’s reactions to decide for me.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, especially as I’ve made other significant changes in my life.

I’ve moved countless times, changed jobs, left relationships, and made decisions that didn’t always make sense to other people. Sometimes I knew exactly what I wanted. Other times, I only knew that what I had wasn’t what I wanted anymore.

And yes, I’ve been scared. I’ve questioned myself. I’ve worried about whether I was making the right decisions and what people might think.

Some things have worked out beautifully. Others have been difficult, disappointing, or nothing as I imagined.

I’m not suggesting we throw all caution to the wind or make every decision based on how we feel in the moment. Our choices have real consequences, and some deserve a great deal of consideration.

But I also wonder how often we spend so much time imagining what could go wrong that we lose sight of what could go right.

Or how often we give more weight to what other people might think than to what we know about ourselves.

I didn’t know what would happen when I published my book. I couldn’t have predicted the conversations, the connections, the occasional embarrassment, or the person who would read it and disappear before our first date.

I’m glad I didn’t.

When I look back at the decisions I’ve made, I’m not proud because they all turned out the way I hoped.

I’m proud because I trusted myself enough to make them.

And I’m grateful that I’ve learned I can be afraid of what comes next and still be willing to find out. Stay curious, have an open mind, and acknowledge the fear, but don’t let it stop you.