It's A Lot: The Fear I Don’t Say Out Loud
No one talks about the fear of winning so, let’s go there.
“Why do you keep delaying your blessings?”
The shower is my happy place. It’s one of the few spaces where I find real solitude — no notifications and no calls; just steam, stillness, and a lot of silent prayers mixed with equal parts tears. It’s one of the only places where I’m fully vulnerable (hello, birthday suit!) — which probably explains why God chooses to have the most honest conversations (and impart lathered-up lessons) with me right there.
Last week, somewhere between my clarifying shampoo and a pending stress spiral, I was mentally gearing up for another long day of emails, packed post-its, and potential rejections. That’s when I heard it — not in a loud, booming voice, but in that quiet, cut-through-your-1-million-thoughts kind of way:
“Why do you keep delaying your blessings?”
And just like that, I had to stop mid-body wash.
The truth is that I’ve spent more time than I’d like to admit procrastinating on opportunities that I prayed for. I’ve sat on pitches. I’ve delayed launches. I’ve gone ghost on posting good news. Not because I don’t want the dream, but because I started realizing that what scares me most isn’t failure, it’s what I prayed for, actually becoming a reality.
The Fear No One Talks About
Most of us have been conditioned to brace for failure. We have backup plans, side hustles, just-in-case bank accounts, and even secondary friend groups. But what if the thing we’re afraid of is getting exactly what we asked for? What if, much like me, you’re afraid of the dream being made manifest and having to walk out (and walk-in) purpose?
For me, it shows up as:
Procrastinating on replying to emails
Having all of the great ideas and stalling the execution
Constantly “tweaking” instead of launching
I used to think it was perfectionism or imposter syndrome. But those Holy Spirit-led showers (and good ol’ therapy) helped me name it: it’s a fear of what will be required of me if all of the hard work pays off.
We say we want abundance, but are we ready for the discipline that comes with it? For the expectations? The visibility? The stewardship? The pressure to sustain something that was once just a journal entry?
It reminds me of that quote — the one we all know, but that never truly hit home until I started trying to build something real:
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.” - Marianne Williamson (in her book, A Return to Love)
When God gives us something to build from scratch, we sign up for risk. That’s almost a prerequisite for any entrepreneur. We get that, and it’s part of the reason why you have to be a little bit insane to go this route. But what I didn’t expect was the emotional whiplash that came from realizing: this thing might work, and the only reward for hard work is more work.
What will success cost me?
Will I lose my peace? My time? My anonymity? Myself?
Further, what happens when I’m responsible for more than myself? When the business has interns, contractors, and *gulp* employees? When the next level will require even more because the risk is even greater.
It’s a fear that sounds ungrateful or even a little dramatic when you say it (or type it) out loud — but I guarantee you, it’s very real. And I know I’m not the only one who feels it.
It’s Bigger Than You, That’s The Point
God also speaks to me through my friends and the people I choose to do life with. While typing this through tears, I called my friend Ramonita (she runs an amazing Substack about the lessons we learn from our littles at GodParenting *shameless plug*), who is one of my go-to prayer and creative partners. “I have a word I need to give you,” she said. Joshua 12 and 13:1–7. Please read it when you have time, but here’s the gist: after years of war, God laid out every single piece of land the Israelites still needed to conquer. Even AFTER walking into the promise.
It’s a reminder that success doesn’t mean the work stops — it just means it shifts. There was more work waiting in the promised land than there ever was in the wilderness. But that work was legacy work. Foundation work. Generational work.
Joshua had to fight. But the fight meant something. It built something that blessed people he’d never live to meet.
That reframed a lot for me. Maybe what I fear isn’t just success — maybe it’s the weight of legacy, especially as a Black-female-founder who’s carrying purpose, representation, and community all at once. And the responsibility of sustaining what I’ve been called to start.
I always tell my team, “If we’re the only ones that benefit from CNK, we’ve done it all wrong.” That’s the whole point. Your dreams should scare you; they should be a lot to digest, because they are bigger than you. We are simply vessels for God-given ideas that will lead to God-given blessings and, hopefully, His glory.
I still have days when I hesitate. When I want to hide, and when I can find every reason to quit. But I also know this:
Delaying this blessing won’t protect me from the pressure; it just prolongs the process.
I’ll Leave You With This:
I don’t have a perfect plan for what happens if it all works out. When I get the funding for the store, and when the revenue streams for CNKDaily.com start popping again. But I do know what happens if I keep shrinking. So, today I’m choosing to send the email, to stay consistent with the Substack, and to follow through on a yes.
This is what I’ve been trying to tell myself when the “what-ifs” in my head become too much:
You prayed for this. You worked for this. You sacrificed for this.
So what if it works? It’s supposed to.
You’ll grow into it. You’ll be supported in it. You’ll get to redefine success as something God will sustain.
I’m not fearful of failing, and I’m no longer afraid of CNK (both our digital company and our bid for retail space) being too big a dream, but I’m learning not to fear winning as much either.
— Channing 🤎
Your Turn: What’s something you’re sitting on — not because it might fail, but because it might take off?
Hit reply or drop a comment — let’s talk about it.
ANOTHER ONE!