There have been moments in my life when I've felt absolutely certain about something. It's like Babe Ruth famously calling his home run—I can point to a future event and just know how it will unfold. A clear example comes from my time earning an MBA. There were numerous case competitions available, opportunities to compete and potentially win some prize money. One particular competition involved solving an actual operations challenge for a large retail company.
I joined forces with two peers, and from the moment our team formed, I simply knew we would win. I couldn't explain it, but the feeling was undeniable. We passed the initial round with our essay submissions, then presented our solution to the client, won, and joyfully collected our prize. Later, a friend of mine confessed how relieved she felt when we won—apparently, my unwavering confidence had made her anxious. She worried about how I'd handle it if we didn't win. But honestly, that possibility never even crossed my mind. It wasn't up for debate. It was fact.
I often reflect on moments like these, when I begin something with absolute certainty of success. Was this manifestation before I knew what that meant? Did my unwavering belief and intense preparation make victory inevitable? Or was it because I had committed fully, drawing a firm line in the sand, refusing to disappoint myself?
On the flip side, I'm unsettled by moments when I enter something FULL OF DOUBT. It makes me question my decisions, wondering if I'm headed in the wrong direction. Or maybe it simply means I'm doing something entirely new—something naturally shrouded in uncertainty, fog, darkness, and twists in the path ahead.
Perhaps my certainty in that competition stemmed from the context. I was nearing the end of my MBA, confident in my knowledge, our team's approach, and my teammates' abilities. Doubt had no room because my confidence had already taken root and grown strong.
Yet, here I am today, writing this newsletter, still questioning if it's the 'right' path. I'm still wondering if I can make it work, still experiencing moments of doubt when I ask myself: Does this make sense?
In these times, I remind myself that sometimes belief arrives second. It might already exist inside me—likely it does—but it's buried deep, quieted by years of trying, failing, and fear of openly sharing my thoughts. But it's undoubtedly there; otherwise, why would I be here?
Doubt is natural. It's OK to pursue something without absolute certainty. It's OK to dream and stretch yourself—in fact, that's usually when you feel most alive. Doing this work has brought me more fulfillment than I've experienced in years. I'm pushing boundaries, stepping outside comfort zones, and finally transforming ideas into tangible actions.
The proof of progress isn't in follower counts, likes, shares, or views.
The proof is right here, in this writing. In this very sentence. It exists. It's out there.
That's what grounds me during moments of doubt. The outcome I'm chasing is already happening: I'm continually choosing to overcome my fear and doubt by writing and clicking publish.
Week after week, I'm building a library of posts—a dedicated space online where I can share my thoughts, ideas, and help others do the same. With every published post, my belief in myself grows stronger. The evidence is right in front of me.
The doubt creeps in when I compare myself to others who are several steps ahead. They may have launched their newsletters years ago, and yet I expect to be right there with them immediately. But I'm certain they, too, once felt exactly as I do now. They had their doubts and uncertainties.
But what did they do?
They kept going.
And so will I.
