what if it all works out?

To the woman who’s scared to want more, because what if it doesn’t work out…

I just got back from a few days in Morocco, and for the entire trip, I kept saying the same thing over and over again:

“life is so cool.”

Like, absurdly cool. The kind of cool that makes you look around and feel like the luckiest version of yourself. The kind of cool that makes you cry into your espresso because you’re so glad you didn’t settle for survival.

And while I was walking through the souks and sipping mint tea and feeding stray cats in the garden of our riad, I kept thinking about baby Regan.

• The 13-year-old who used to dream about leaving the US.

• The 18-year-old who ad $100 to her name in university & was grieving her sister.

• The 25-year-old who had everything on paper: the marriage, the move abroad, the dream job - and still felt lonely, scared, and burnt out.

If you had told any of those versions of me that I’d one day be here, living the life I’m living now? I would’ve said absolutely not.

Not because I didn’t want it. Because I had no idea how to let myself want something that good.

What I realized this week is: life really is so freaking cool, as long as you know the right places to look.

But it’s hard to see clearly when you’re stuck in survival mode.

It’s hard to believe in something better when your brain is wired to predict what hurts the least.

And it’s especially hard when you’ve never actually known what ease feels like, when the only thing that’s ever felt familiar is struggle.

Maybe you don’t even want your life to change. Maybe you’re not fantasizing about anything different. Maybe you’re just trying to get through the day without crying.

And maybe your version of “dreaming big” is “what if I could just make this a little…easier?”

But what if you don’t have to stop there?

What if it could be better than that?

One of the hardest truths I’ve had to face is that I operated for years out of fear, but I had mastered the art of making it look like confidence.

I wasn’t making decisions because they were good for me.

I was making decisions because they looked good.

Because they made me seem successful, because they fit the version of me I thought other people would admire.

But underneath it all, I was so freaking scared.

Scared of what it would take to actually live the way I wanted to. Of the emotional labor. Of what it would mean to actually put myself first for once.

And when you’ve lived most of your life that way, it becomes easy to mistake fear for logic. To convince yourself that this is just the way things are. To stay small because small is predictable.

Your brain will keep you stuck in a pattern even if it’s not good for you, as long as it feels familiar.

I promise, it’s not trying to sabotage you. It’s trying to keep you safe.

When you can predict the outcome, even if that outcome is “miserable but manageable,” your brain feels more at ease than if you reach for something better and risk the unknown.

But the unknown is where beauty begins.

Maybe it starts with something small.

• A moment in the sun where your nervous system can breathe.

• A decision made from self-respect instead of fear.

• A trip that reminds you what wonder feels like again.

That’s what Morocco was for me. Not an escape, but a reminder that I don’t have to be afraid to live.

You can want more than survival. You deserve more than “manageable”.

You get to become someone your past self could only dream of.

She might not believe you at first, but future you will be so proud you tried anyway.

🤍

Regan