We all have familiar patterns that show up when we feel uncertain. Some are subtle, like a shift in our tone, and some are louder, like a reflexive thought that jumps out the moment something feels uncomfortable. Recently, I found myself face-to-face with one of mine.
I had reached out for guidance, hoping for clarity on a decision I was trying to make. After sending my initial message, I followed up with a couple of additional notes that I believed would make it easier for the other person to respond. And then… silence.
Almost immediately, an old voice whispered:
“Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.”
It’s a line I’ve repeated to myself for years — especially when I’m waiting for a reply. In the past, this would have spiraled into overthinking:
Was I too much? Did I say something wrong? Should I have worded it differently? Maybe I shouldn’t have followed up… maybe I shouldn’t have reached out at all.
This was the pattern. A tight, familiar loop of self-blame.
But this time, something different happened.
I noticed it.
I actually caught the moment my mind tried to drag me back into that old space of regret and self-doubt. And instead of automatically believing the thought, I paused. I took a breath. And I reminded myself:
I did my best, and that is enough.
There is no shame in asking for clarity, support, or feedback.
It wasn’t about whether the question was perfect, or whether the timing was ideal. What mattered was my intention — which was sincere, thoughtful, and grounded. The follow-up information I sent came from a place of wanting to help, not from trying to demand a response.
And that realization shifted everything.
I didn’t need to regret reaching out.
I didn’t need to rewrite my words in my head.
I didn’t need to shrink myself to avoid being “too much.”
Instead, I chose a different response:
Trust the process. Trust my intentions. Trust myself.
Growth often doesn’t look dramatic. Sometimes it’s simply choosing not to shame yourself for doing something honest. Sometimes it’s catching the old story before it takes over.
And sometimes, the victory is small but profound:
seeing the old pattern… and gently choosing a new way forward.