Change can be intimidating, especially when it sneaks up and challenges everything that feels comfortable.

A year ago, I found myself standing at a crossroads, uncertain about my next move.

It wasn’t that life was terrible — it was that I sensed a shift was necessary but felt unprepared to pursue it.

Like a plant with its roots tangled, I wanted to grow yet worried I’d lose stability in the process.

Looking back, I see that feeling “unready” can be its own kind of comfort zone—a place where inaction feels safer than taking the leap.

Here’s how I managed to move forward anyway.

When fear feels like home

I used to think fear was always a sign to stop.

In my head, if something made me anxious, it meant I wasn’t equipped to handle it.

But according to Psychology Today,  fear can sometimes be a helpful alarm system — an indicator that something important is at stake or that you’re about to learn.

There’s a subtle line between healthy caution and paralyzing fear.

I was living in the latter territory, crafting elaborate stories about how everything might go wrong if I made a change.

A new job meant risking failure.

A deeper commitment in my marriage meant risking disappointment.

Even small tweaks to my daily routine, like waking up earlier for meditation, felt like major disruptions.

One day, I realized the fear itself had become strangely comforting. I knew how to operate in my anxieties and what to expect from them.

They gave me a reason to stay put, telling me that now was never the right time to act.

Yet a voice in the back of my mind kept whispering that real growth might be on the other side of discomfort.

I just had to muster the courage to look past fear’s protective façade and trust that I’d catch myself if I stumbled.

That unexpected turning point

Shifts in life don’t always show up wrapped in clarity.

They can arrive at messy experiences: a random argument, a small personal failure, or even a friend’s offhand comment.

My turning point happened on a random Tuesday afternoon when I was overwhelmed by work deadlines and personal obligations.

It was so bad, I felt like I couldn’t even breathe properly.

A close friend told me, “If you’re waiting to feel 100% ready, you might be waiting forever.”

That comment stung.

But it also sparked a new perspective.

• Could it be true that waiting for total readiness would keep me stuck?
• What if I was waiting for a level of certainty that simply doesn’t exist for anyone?

I started questioning my assumptions about readiness.

Maybe I’d been mixing it up with perfection.

The notion that everything had to line up seamlessly—a perfect moment, perfect plan, perfect mindset—was probably an illusion.

I realized that real readiness isn’t a state of being; it’s a willingness to proceed despite lingering doubt.

Learning from gentle guides

Around this time, I dipped my toes into self-development tools, including Rudá Iandê’s “Free Your Mind” masterclass.

I wasn’t the type to sign up for these courses. I’d dismissed them in the past as “nice ideas” with no real-world impact.

But something in me decided to give it a try.

Rudá’s approach wasn’t about ignoring fear or pushing it aside. He emphasized examining the beliefs that keep us locked in inaction.

The exercises helped me see that a big reason I felt unready was the expectation that change had to be seamless.

I believed I couldn’t handle any turbulence or mistakes along the way.

Digging into this assumption was eye-opening. It showed me that I was the one attaching unrealistic criteria to what “readiness” meant.

In one of the lessons, Rudá encouraged participants to question their mental narratives, the stories we all tell ourselves about why we can’t move forward.

I was stunned at how quickly my inner monologue filled with sentences like “I’m not experienced enough” or “I’ll fail spectacularly.”

Acknowledging these stories made me realize they were just that —stories.

No matter how familiar or “true” they sounded, they weren’t facts set in stone. By seeing them for what they were, I found a bit of space to reconsider my options.

Finding my inner compass

Every journey needs some form of direction, and I discovered that clarity doesn’t always arrive fully formed.

Sometimes it develops as you take small steps.

In my case, I started waking up 20 minutes earlier each day for a simple mindfulness routine.

Nothing dramatic — just enough time to sit quietly, breathe, and ask myself: “What do I really want from this day?”

Research shows that consistent, brief mindfulness practices can help illuminate mental blind spots.

In those calm morning moments, I noticed how often my mind drifted to excuses about why I couldn’t change.

It also revealed deeper yearnings — like wanting to write more, yearning to deepen my marriage, or feeling drawn to minimalism beyond just my home environment.

Following that compass meant letting go of the idea that I’d have a neatly outlined roadmap.

Instead, I cultivated trust in myself: trust that if I strayed, I’d notice and adjust.

I wasn’t placing that trust in external validation anymore. I was taking personal responsibility for each step, even if it was small or uncertain.

Little steps, big shifts

Initially, I assumed change had to be massive and dramatic: a complete career overhaul, a grand epiphany, or moving to a new city.

But I soon realized that smaller, steady actions were more sustainable and less overwhelming.

I started with subtle tweaks in my lifestyle.

For example, I began blocking out one hour a week to explore something new, whether it was brainstorming a side project, experimenting with vegan recipes, or simply reading a book about a topic that intrigued me.

It felt doable and fun.

These little shifts gradually boosted my confidence, reinforcing the idea that I could handle new experiences.

A friend of mine once said, “Tiny changes done consistently can create a tidal wave of progress.”

I saw the truth in that.

The more I embraced incremental moves, the less I needed perfection.

I gained momentum with each small victory, whether it was hitting a personal writing goal or having a vulnerable conversation I’d been avoiding.

Final thoughts

There’s one more thing I want to mention: moving forward often involves surprising twists.

I’ve learned not to interpret them as signs that I’m unprepared, but rather as opportunities to adjust my approach.

Each step—whether it worked out or not—led me to new insights about who I am and how I handle life’s ups and downs.

If you’ve been waiting around for that perfect moment or some magical sign that you’re finally “ready,” consider the possibility that waiting is a form of avoidance.

Sometimes readiness isn’t a feeling.

It’s a decision to act in the midst of doubt, trusting that you can handle the lessons along the way.

And if you feel you’re trapped by internal narratives or limiting beliefs, I’d encourage you to explore something like Rudá Iandê’s “Free Your Mind” masterclass.

It’s free, and while I was hesitant at first, I found unexpected clarity and a renewed sense of agency in my life.

Trust me: sometimes the best way to show you’re ready is to move forward, even if your heart is pounding and your mind is full of questions.