Hey everyone! What a week! I’ve been facilitating my second design sprint of the year, putting the finishing touches on my Deep Work Days micro‑course, and riding the energy of an incredible From Intention to Action workshop on Friday. Thank you so much to everyone who showed up, engaged, and trusted me with your time. Even with all of those bright spots, there was ONE quiet moment this week that completely rocked my world—and that’s what today’s post is about.
Today you’ll learn:
* How fear can suddenly show up like a “veil” and steal the color from an ordinary moment
* Why my default response to fear (taking action) was actually keeping me from being present
* The tiny inner script that helped me say “no, thank you” to panic without changing a single external thing
* How a simple gratitude practice made it possible to notice fear and choose again
* A practical way you can experiment with this the next time you feel paralyzed by risk
If you’d rather listen to the full, unedited story, you can always catch this episode of Confessions of a Facilitation Artist on Substack, or subscribe wherever you listen to podcasts for the more human, non‑AI version.
The Veil of Fear
Earlier this week, during a very normal Monday night ravioli dinner with my husband and boys, I had a not‑so‑normal inner experience. One minute, everything felt bright and in full color—kids talking, plates clinking, the usual chaos. The next, it was as if a gray veil of dread started sliding down over everything.
Inside that veil was familiar panic:What if my business doesn’t work?What if these workshops don’t land?What if I’m not doing enough, or I am enough, but it still fails?
My default pattern with fear is to take action. I usually cope by doing: tweaking an offer, sending another email, planning the next thing so I don’t have to feel the knot of anxiety in my chest. It’s productive, but it quietly pulls me out of the life that’s happening right in front of me.
On this particular night, I couldn’t (and didn’t want to) spring into action. I was sitting at the table with my family. One of my kids was mid‑story. The veil was dropping, and I could feel it trying to drag me away from that moment and back into my head.
Then a very clear thought cut through the noise:
“There is no point in feeling this way right now. This fear is not serving me.”
And instead of leaping into doing, I tried something different. I answered the fear, in my mind, with three simple words:
“No, thank you.”
I didn’t mean, “Fear, you’re banished forever.” I meant, “You don’t get this moment.” I stayed in my chair. I stayed in the conversation. I didn’t change a single external thing.
And the best way I can describe what happened is this: the gray veil lifted. The room was in color again. Same dinner. Same business risks. Different relationship to the fear.
People sometimes say I’m overly optimistic, like I’m just walking around with rose‑colored glasses, assuming it will all work out. But that choice didn’t feel naive or fluffy. It felt deeply grounded. Letting fear consume the evening wouldn’t have made my business safer or stronger. It just would have stolen one more ordinary, irreplaceable moment with my family.
Gratitude as the Quiet Backbone
That moment didn’t come out of nowhere. Over the last month, I’ve been intensely building a simple gratitude practice: noticing and naming what I’m thankful for in real time. My family. My health. The clients and leaders who trust me. The people who show up for free workshops. The tiny, imperfect signs that this work is gaining traction.
Because gratitude has been in the background, I could feel the contrast when fear tried to take over. Gratitude said, “Look at what’s here.” Fear said, “Look at what could go wrong.” Being rooted in gratitude didn’t erase the risk, but it gave me enough stability to see the fear clearly and decide not to hand it the microphone.
That, I think, is why I could witness the veil, pause, and choose again—rather than automatically obeying the panic and racing off to “fix” something.
What This Season Is Teaching Me
I’ve done scary things before: skiing a hill that intimidated me, saying yes to opportunities that stretched me. But entrepreneurship is a different flavor of fear. The stakes feel higher—time, money, reputation, identity all tangled together. There are no guaranteed outcomes.
And yet, that Monday night realization confirmed something important: I am exactly where I want to be.
Even when results don’t look the way I imagined, I’m getting this unexpected curriculum in:
* Noticing when fear is making everything go gray
* Separating “this is risky” from “I am not safe”
* Choosing presence and trust before I have proof that everything will work out
The work that lights me up—like the From Intention to Action workshop, and launching the Deep Work Days micro-course—comes from this more grounded, trusting version of me, not the frantic one who is trying to out‑work her fear.
Try This the Next Time Your Fear Shows Up
If you recognize your own patterns in any of this, here’s a simple way to experiment with your next “veil of fear” moment:
* Notice the veilWhen everything suddenly feels heavier and more hopeless, name it: “Oh, this is fear dropping in.”
* Thank it for trying to helpQuietly acknowledge: “You’re trying to protect me. I see that.”
* Ask what it’s stealingIn this exact moment, what is fear pulling you away from? A conversation? Deep work? Rest? Play?
* Set a gentle boundaryTry my tiny script: “No, thank you. You don’t get this moment.” Then, resist the urge to immediately “fix” or “do.”
* Ground in gratitudeName three specific things you’re grateful for right now—in the same room, in the same minute. Let them bring the color back.
It’s a subtle shift, but it’s powerful: moving from “I must act to stop this fear” to “I can feel this fear and still choose to stay.” That’s the muscle I’m building, one dinner, one workshop, one risk at a time.
What’s Next?
Next week, I’m bringing back a book focus that I personally need in this season: The One Thing by Gary Keller and Jay Papasan. I’ll be centering a few episodes around it, starting with chapters 1 and 2 next week. You don’t have to read along, but if you’re juggling a lot and craving focus, you might want to.
And if this story resonated, I’d love it if you’d share it with a friend or colleague who’s also learning to notice their own veil of fear—and choose again.
