“A childhood imagination
Has been my salvation
One cloud at a time
Lord, I’m dreaming.”
—I Believe (In Everything), JJ Grey & Mofro
In 2019, I took a job at a Trader Joe’s in suburban New York. It was a short chapter – one of those unexpected pit stops life throws at you, the kind you only fully appreciate in hindsight. I left for what seemed like a better opportunity, a bold leap into the unknown. But as soon as I landed, the ground beneath me started to crumble faster than I’d expected.
Still, those months weren’t wasted. I met people who left a mark, like the customer who once asked, “Where are the pee-cans?” Now, as a Southerner, we all know there’s only one proper way to say “pecan,” and I had to bite my tongue to keep from pointing her toward the restroom.
“Ma’am, the puh-cahns are up front by the registers.”
I’ll never forget the look she shot me. She looked at me like I’d just sprouted a second head. But it wasn’t her that stuck with me – it was a conversation I had with a coworker.
He had a complicated past – a few missteps from his younger years that shaped his story. But he didn’t let that define him. He carried something powerful: a drive to create, to put his truth into the world.
He was a passionate hip-hop artist, always scribbling lyrics into a spiral notebook he kept in his pocket while we stocked shelves. I’d catch him muttering lines under his breath, testing out rhymes, then quickly writing them down before they slipped away.
As a writer, I get it. My notes app is a chaotic mess of half-formed ideas and lines that felt like pure genius in the moment but now just wait for their time in the spotlight.
One night as we were stocking the cereal shelves I asked him, “You get a lot of lyric ideas, don’t you?”
That question opened the floodgates. We talked about the creative process, that hunger to create something that matters. I shared the story of Gregg Allman showing up to the first Allman Brothers Band rehearsal with 20 written songs. They only used two – Dreams and Whipping Post – but those two became pillars of the band’s legacy.
At one point, he paused, looked me dead in the eye, and said, “Man, if I don’t believe in me, who else is gonna believe in me?”
That line hit me like a metal folding chair to the back. It still does. Whenever I’m wrestling with self-doubt, I hear those words echoing.
Just this week, they came back to me again. I’ve been given an incredible opportunity to ghostwrite a book – a role I’ve hesitated to take on. Fear of failing, fear of not being enough, even fear of success. But when the potential client shared his story, I felt something click. I wanted in.
I sent off a business proposal. Before hitting send on that email, that familiar wave of anxiety crashed over me – the classic self-sabotage dance. But I hit send anyway.
The next morning, I had a three-hour work meeting. I must have checked my phone fifty times. No reply all day.
The following morning, I finally forced myself to stop. I grabbed some coffee, journaled, went for a run, and prayed – anything to quiet my mind and feed my spirit.
When I finally checked my inbox, there it was – a reply. It was a note saying he was reviewing his budget and would get back to me. It wasn’t the passionate yes, I was hoping for, but it was a positive response. I’d taken a shot, and the ball was still in the air. I could live with that.
How many times in our lives do we let opportunities slip by because we don’t believe in ourselves? Business deals, relationships, dreams – we let them pass because we let fear take the wheel. I’ve been there too many times. But this time, I leaned in. I took the swing. And that’s a victory in itself.
Think about Cody Rhodes. His career in WWE was going nowhere. He knew he was better than the gimmicks they gave him. He took a risk, left, and helped build what became All Elite Wrestling. Eventually, he returned to WWE bigger than ever. He bet on himself, and it paid off.
And then I think about my father, Tony. He was on the cusp of big breaks in the music industry but let his own fears and addictions pull him off course. He also chose to be present for his young family, and that choice took courage. But even later in life, he couldn’t quite shake the question, “What if?”
So, here’s the real question: What if you just believed in yourself, even a little more?
What dreams would you dust off? What risks would you take? Who would you allow yourself to become?
Would you put new strings on the guitar that’s been gathering dust in the corner of the garage?
Would you lace up those running shoes and hit the trail?
Would you draft that business plan that’s been bouncing around in your mind?
Would you finally introduce yourself to the intriguing woman at the coffee shop?
Would you allow yourself to take one more shot at your life, even if the ground feels shaky?
Because here’s the truth: if you don’t believe in you, who else is gonna?
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This Post is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: iStock
