The prospect of doing something that scares me usually sends me to some version of sticking my fingers in my ears and repeating "la la la la la la" until the urge to do the scary thing recedes. But when I look at the moments I'm proudest of, fear is what they all have in common.
At 42, reeling from a new baby and professional turmoil, I realized that I didn’t need a new job or other external change. I needed to find my way to a truer version of myself. This is the letter I wish I’d had then, and a love letter for anyone embarking on this journey now.