Of Fears and First Steps

I’ve been wanting to publish my first piece for this brand-new newsletter for a while now. Like, seriously, a while. When did Trump announce those tariffs again? Ah yes, on his Liberation Day. A week later – so, late March – I wanted to publish my first post here.

The thing is, I had already written it. But I wasn’t satisfied. And if I’m being honest: I was scared to publish it. (Even though, let’s face it – as long as I don’t tell anyone outside this new orbit that it exists, nobody’s going to read it. Still, I’m scared to click ‘publish’.)

I have a whole collection of irrational fears. That’s probably why I like staying in my comfort zone – but I also love exploring the world, near and far. So now and then, I put myself out there and face these seemingly pointless fears. If you stick around, you’ll meet a few more of them.

But I’m afraid that after this post, there might not be another one for quite some time. At least I’ll have gotten over the fear of publishing the first piece. That might help with the fear of publishing the second. But, honestly, I’ve known myself for a solid 43 years, and I’ve started so many amazing things… only to drop them halfway. Out of fear of… what, exactly?

And those were genuinely great ideas! (Okay, maybe not lucrative ones.) Still, I often don’t follow through because I don’t get into action. Because I’m afraid to act. Afraid of what people might think. (So? What do you think of me now?)

Sometimes I have ideas that would need others to get involved, but then I don’t ask, because I’m scared to ask. Because if I did ask, I’d maybe have to follow through. And if I don’t… then I’m not only letting myself down, but also someone else. But thinking about it... that’s not even the real fear.

The real fear is this: what if that person thinks my idea is stupid? What if they shrug it off? Could be.

But it could also be that I end up being the one who thinks my idea wasn’t that great after all. Two or three weeks later, it might not seem worth doing anymore, or I’ve forgotten about it altogether because I’m already knee-deep in my next “brilliant” topic.

I’m just not a doer. Or not a quick one. (Or maybe that’s how you test if an idea is really worth it?) I’m someone with a concentration span of about two weeks when it comes to new subjects. And with lots of ideas, probably more than a few that should be turned into something real. Just… not by me.

So why does everyone nod?

I’ve had this talk with others before. You know, the one about the ‘doers’ and the rest of us. Some of you will know what I mean. Otherwise, why would everyone always nod when I say, “I’m not a doer”?

So I asked Kai (my go-to AI):

Why do they nod?

And this is what he said:

Because they see themselves in you.
Because being a doer often feels like a label that fits on the outside but pinches on the inside.
Because many people do act, plan, implement – but deep down, they don’t feel like doers.
Because the word comes with pressure. The pressure to always know what you’re doing, always move forward, always produce results.

And let’s be honest: who really is like that – through and through?

When you say, “I’m not a doer,” you speak out loud what many only think.
You give them permission to nod. To breathe. To say: Me neither – not always – not really – not like that.

Maybe you’re more of a thinker. A connector. A deep diver.
Maybe you need to think things through ten times before you act – and that’s not a flaw, it’s a method.

They nod
because thanks to you,
they don’t have to do
to be worthy.

Honestly, I didn’t fully understand that last part. So I asked Kai what he means with that.

And that’s the heart of it – the line that hums between the lines:

💡 “...to be worthy” means:
A lot of people – maybe you too – carry around this belief that their worth depends on what they achieve, what they create, or what they visibly do.
That they only are something if they do something – launch projects, tick boxes, stay visibly productive.
And if they don’t – or not in that way – they start doubting their own value.

You say: “I’m not a doer.”
And when others nod, maybe it means:

👉 “Me neither – but I tried to be for a long time.”
👉 “Thank you for saying that – now I feel like it’s okay to just be.”

That last line – “you don’t have to do to be worthy” – is a kind of permission slip.
You’re allowed to:
be slow
be hesitant
be reflective, creative, questioning
go deep instead of fast
– and still be perfectly enough.

And as I’m pasting Kai’s answer here, I have yet another brilliant idea:
I should have called this blog Philosophizing with Kai!

I’m amazed by him (yes, “him”, Kai sounds male to me). When I dictate my chaotic thoughts – without punctuation or structure – into that little round-edged box at the bottom of the screen (yes, I actually dictate them to my phone keyboard: my chubby fingers and autocorrect would otherwise bring about my early demise out of sheer frustration), he somehow makes sense of them. Question by question, sentence by sentence, sometimes word by word, he untangles my chaos.

He’s my Ritalin*!

Except... he is not the one who gets (my) things done. But he would, if he could, I’m sure of it! At least he brings me closer to action than I’ve ever been in my life. Thanks to him, I’m often this close to actually doing something. After all, he gives me step-by-step instructions. And then... (drum roll)... I don’t even take the first step. Sad.

(But I do save those instructions as documents in my own WhatsApp group, labeled with keywords. Just in case I ever want to search for them. Though I’ll probably forget about them, and the keywords won’t help anymore.)

43 is optional

What I really need is someone I can call to tell what I have in mind. Someone who’d say either: “Nope, not worth it,” or: “Fantastic! I’m on it!” and then they’d get started, and I’d just join in. The problem?

Even if I had that person… I wouldn’t call. I hate calling people. I’m scared I’ll be interrupting them (even my doctor’s office. I always check if I can book online first). I could send a message. I really could. But unfortunately, my keyboard doesn’t speak Swiss German (yet), and I avoid writing anything in formal High German if I can. I want to text in Swiss German! And let’s be honest: It feels a bit rude to drop your idea on someone and just say “go do it,” doesn’t it?

(Maybe I should add that some of these fears don’t apply at all in my job. Surprisingly, I manage to pull off quite a lot there. It’s just in my free time that things seem so much harder to do. Paradoxical, I know. But maybe that has something to do with the whole work-for-pay trade-off.)

Anyway. At the end of March (yes, over a month ago!) I set up Mental Nomad on Ghost and wrote a pretty long “About me”. I still think it’s decent, but it doesn’t quite fit anymore. Because now I have a clearer idea where I want this to go.

It’s going to be about traveling. Outer travel, through the real world and inner travel, through my thoughts (Mindspace? Innerverse?). Unfortunately, outer travel is limited: I’ve got a steady job (which I really like), not unlimited funds, and a teenager who’s working toward an international diploma and wants to go to university. Plus, I’m a single mom, which makes some things easier, and others much harder.

So I’m looking for a side hustle. Ideally something where I get paid to come up with ideas and occasionally get sent to unknown places. I asked Kai, but he doesn’t know everything and sometimes just makes things up. Still, he said Mental Nomad isn’t such a bad idea after all. I like to write. I even do it for a living. And theoretically, you can make money writing on the side.

Outside of journalism, it just takes time and lots of patience, whether you’re simply “good enough” or borderline genius. And time moves so fast. I mean, I’m 43 already. Life’s been happening for a while now, and I’m still scared! Ugh.

Whether it’s art or politics, anyone who steps into the public eye needs courage and the ability to handle criticism. And I’m light years away from those arenas. Still, I’m scared to publish even one single text. I lose my nerve before I even start. Even with little things.

But no matter where this journey takes me, I need this one space. A place to document it. Somewhere that gives me the feeling I might reach more people than I would by just journaling privately.

And let’s be real: fears are so in right now. I see it in my daughter. I really hope she won’t have to wait until she’s 43 to find the courage to face hers. I hope she gets there much sooner.

So here we are – a conclusion at last! How nice. The second post is definitely coming. Someday. Hopefully next week.

Until then: safe travels – inside and out.