stop waiting to feel ready

,

I’m writing this from the backseat of a car tearing across the French Riviera toward Saint Tropez, sea-salt hair knotted to kingdom come, skin buzzing from too much sun and maybe too much rosé in Cannes yesterday.

The sun is out for blood, the air is sticky enough to chew, and a tiny voice in my gut still screaming...

Did I seriously just do that?

Hang on — let me rewind.

Yesterday, I decided to do something I had absolutely no business doing: get on a paddleboard in the middle of the French freakin’ Riviera, knowing full well I cannot swim.

No life jacket. No plan. No clue what I’d do if I toppled over except maybe scream for my mama.

And no, I wasn’t out there standing like a champion — I was planted on my butt, white-knuckling the board, praying the universe wouldn’t test me with a rogue wave.

Meanwhile, my friends were all happily splashing around, living their best mermaid-core lives, unbothered and unafraid. One of them, thank the sweet baby dolphins, happened to be a medic — which is basically the universe sending me a cosmic wink that said… You’re gonna be fine, dummy.

Here’s the thing… I was terrified.

Like, heart-pounding, holy-shit-why-am-I-like-this terrified.

But there was also this tiny, rebellious voice inside me that said:
Do it anyway.

Maybe it was the rosé, maybe it was that “I’m in France, baby!” energy — I decided, screw it.

So there I was, gripping this paddleboard like it’d save my life, surrounded by cheers, everyone shouting “You’ve got this!” And for one split second, I almost believed them.

Almost.

Yet something shifted in me, right there on that board. I realized I wasn’t alone.

My friends were circling me like human safety nets, laughing, cheering, ready to scoop me up if I fell in. The medic friend? Already in rescue mode, keeping a close eye.

And suddenly, that terror started to shrink.

Because sometimes bravery doesn’t come from your own confidence. It comes from knowing if you screw it up, someone will be there to catch you.

And that, , is what real wellness looks like.

It’s not about strutting around so invincible you never screw up.

It’s about knowing you’ve built a safety net of people (and practices, and self-trust) to catch you when you do.

It’s about allowing yourself to wobble, to look a little ridiculous, to face something that scares the ever-loving crap out of you — and STILL go for it.

I’ve spent plenty of years on the shore, watching other people dive in, telling myself I’d try someday when I was “ready.”

Spoiler alert: ready doesn’t exist.
Ready is a lie.
Ready is a cage.
Ready is the world’s lamest excuse.

What’s real?
Jumping anyway.
Even if your brain is screaming.
Even if you think you’ll drown.
Even if you’re convinced you’ll fail.

That paddleboard moment was the perfect metaphor for what I see so many of us do in our wellness journeys. We hang back, clinging to the edge of the boat, convinced we can only start after we magically transform into people who have their shit 100% together.

The truth is you’ll never feel 100% together.

You will, however, have people around you who will cheer you on and throw you a floatie when you inevitably face-plant.

That’s the real superpower.
That’s what lets you grow.
That’s what lets you heal.

And that’s what I’m here to be for you.

Whether you’re working on your energy, your boundaries, your body, your burnout, your confidence — consider me your medic friend in the water, arms open, ready to catch you if you fall, and cheering you on every second you stay on your board.

So here’s my nudge, :
Stop waiting for the “perfect moment.”
It’s a mirage.
You’ve got everything you need to jump right now — even if you’re shaking.

I will catch you.

If you’re ready (or honestly, even if you’re not), let’s jump in together:

Or

Because life is way too damn short to stay stuck on the boat while everyone else is splashing around.

With love, courage, and a maybe-sunburnt nose,

Genta

P.S. I’ve got the floaties AND the Saint Tropez rosé waiting for you. 🍷🛟

P.S.S. Here’s living proof that you don’t have to go it alone — me, courageously (and nervously) sitting on a paddleboard, surrounded by my ride-or-die crew, ready to scoop me up if I fell. If you need a support crew for your own jump? I’m here. 💙