Hey Fab Fam,

Tell me if any of this sounds familiar. I didn't get the degree I wanted because I thought I was too old and it would take too long. Mind you, I was in my late twenties… Go figure!

The job I hated? I stayed longer than I should have because I wasn’t “ready” to leave. Because even though I was bored as heck, it was safe, and I had a paycheck.

The business I wanted to start? I delayed it while I took one more course, did more research, watched more YouTube videos—until I finally talked myself out of it.

The authentic version of myself, I kept hidden? She waited in the dark for decades while I perfected being who I should be instead of who I was. Until I started forgetting who she was.

You know what all that waiting cost me? Time I’ll never get back. Opportunities that passed me by. And a growing resentment toward the life I was living, rather than the one I actually wanted.

And the joke? I still don’t feel ready. Not even close.

I just finally got tired of being less than myself because of fear.

Look, I’m not going to pretend I’ve got this all figured out. But I’ve learned one thing that changed everything: you will never feel ready for the stuff that actually matters.

Remember when you became a mother? Did you wake up thinking, Yes! I am totally prepared to keep a tiny human alive!
No. You were terrified. And you did it anyway. And somehow, that kid survived—probably even thrived.

Same with your first big job. Your first heartbreak. Your first kiss. The first time you had sex. The first time you had to stand up for yourself when everything in you wanted to disappear.

You weren’t ready. You just did it.

So why the hell are we acting like “feeling ready” is suddenly a requirement for the life we actually want?

Because waiting to feel confident is just fear wearing a really convincing disguise. It sounds reasonable. Responsible. Smart. Makes you feel good about the choice you’re making of deferring your life.

“I just need to prepare a little more.”
“I just need to learn one more thing.”
“I just need to lose ten pounds, save more money, and get my life together first.”

But you didn’t learn to walk by waiting until you felt like a walking expert. You fell on your diapered butt about 847 times and kept getting back up.

The confidence came after you started moving. Not before.

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Here's the truth we don't like to admit: we're not really waiting to feel ready. We're waiting to feel safe.

We're waiting for a guarantee we won't fail, won't look foolish, won't regret it. We're waiting for permission from some invisible authority to tell us it's okay to want what we want.

Confidence isn't the starting line. It's the finish line.

You don't need to feel ready to start. You need to start to feel ready.

Every successful woman you admire was scared when she began. She just decided starting scared was better than staying stuck. The fear doesn't go away—it just becomes smaller than the confidence you build with each step forward.

The question is: "What am I willing to risk staying the same for?"

Because you've done hard things before without feeling ready. You've figured things out as you went. You've survived uncertainty and come out the other side.

So this thing you're waiting on? It's not bigger than what you've already handled. It just feels that way because you haven't started yet.

Every day you wait is a choice. You're choosing the comfort of the familiar over the possibility of something different. And that's fine—as long as you're honest about what that choice is costing you.

What's different now is we know time is finite. Not in some distant, abstract way, but in our bodies—in the lines on our faces, the creak in our knees, the face staring back from the mirror.

We're not running out of time. But we're done pretending we have infinite amounts of it to waste.

We've spent decades perfecting the art of waiting. Waiting our turn. Waiting for the kids to grow up. Being the good daughter, the supportive wife, the reliable employee. Waiting for life to calm down enough to finally focus on ourselves.

And here's the cruel part: just when we're finally ready to focus on ourselves, society tells us we're too old to matter. The roles that defined us are ending, and we're supposed to figure out who we are now—while being told we're past our prime.

That's why this fear runs so deep. It's not just about starting something new. It's about claiming space we've been told we no longer deserve.

But that wait is over.

What is waiting to “feel ready” actually costing you right now? Think about it. Think of all the opportunities you are missing by playing safe. If you’re still waiting for this same thing a year from now, how will you feel about yourself?

Screenshot this and share it.

“At 50 plus, we don’t have the luxury of waiting anymore—not because time is running out, but because we’ve already spent too many years being who we thought we should be.” -Fabatfiftyplus

Someone in your circle needs this. Send it to her.

Hit reply and tell me:
What’s one thing you did before you felt ready—and how did it actually turn out?

I read every response. And I’ve been exactly where you are.

—

You don’t need permission.
You don’t need perfection.
You just need to start.

— Izzie

P.S. I almost didn't publish this today because I wasn't sure it was "ready." Then I remembered what waiting has cost me over the years. So here we are—imperfect, published, and still not ready. Which is exactly the point.

Now it's your turn. Before you close this email, do one thing you've been putting off. Not the big scary thing. The tiny scary thing. Send the email. Make the phone call. Post the thing. Five minutes of imperfect action beats five more months of perfect planning.

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