So it took a lot for me to kick off this entire Indiegogo campaign. There were the logistical issues: Coming up with the perks, shooting the video, finding an editor, hiring an editor, replacing said editor, sifting through hours of royalty free music, learning my way around yet another “social networking” site, creating a strategy to get the word out.

But there were also the emotional hurdles. Revealing all the work that had been done thus far to my community, Self promotion which I’m ultimately really bad at, and the thing that I’m worse at, asking for help. And asking for money. 

I’ve spent the last ten days in utter misery and anxiety, constantly refreshing the page looking for the little bar jump. Wondering if those hundreds of people I’m “friends” with on Facebook actually give a damn about this thing that I’ve been toiling on for the last 2+ years of my life (because as of right now, it sure hasn’t been reflected in the balances). Then it became internal strife. Maybe I’m wording my “ask” requests wrong? Maybe I’m not cut out for social entrepreneurship? Maybe no one actually wants these goods? EVERYBODY SECRETLY HATES ME.

Then, it inevitably happens. I’ll get the email. The email that someone who I least expected donated, or that I was tagged in a post from someone congratulating me on my progress and cheering me on from the sidelines. More often than not, these generous souls tell me how proud they are and how they also see the clear need for my brand and how many people it could help eventually.

Suddenly, I remember to breathe, and it all seems worth it again. I come back to alignment, and try to figure out exactly where the breakdown is happening for myself. I can readily admit that I’m scared to death. I’m scared of failing. Failing to meet this arbitrary number based on an algorithm that I wrote late in the night. Failing to launch this year or next, and ultimately, failing to provide this incredible community with every comfort that they deserve.

Essentially, I’m putting myself out on this limb so you no longer have to, but the only thing more scary than the height, is the thought of never trying. I always live to see another day, and the cycle will inevitably begin again but each time I remind myself of the journey and not the destination.

In that right, I have already succeeded. Now, go donate.

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