Why You Keep Putting Off Showing Up Online (Even Though You Care Deeply)

I was having a conversation recently about something I see with almost everyone I work with. They'll get this amazing idea to share—something that comes straight from their real-life experience helping clients, something they're genuinely excited to share. There's energy there, authentic enthusiasm about an insight that could truly help someone.

And then... nothing. The post never happens.

Not because they don't care. Not because the idea wasn't good. But because somewhere between the spark of inspiration and hitting "publish," something shifts. The enthusiasm gets tangled up with nervousness about reception. The attempt to craft the perfect post leads to disappointment when the reality doesn't match the vision in their mind. They spend so much energy wrestling with their inner critic that they exhaust themselves before they even hit send.

If this sounds familiar, you're not broken. You're experiencing something that runs much deeper than simple procrastination.

The Identity Battle Happening Inside

What I've come to understand is that this struggle isn't really about content creation at all. It's about identity transformation.

Most of us were trained into our first professional identities through intensive, critical environments. Whether it was graduate school, clinical training, or early career experiences, we learned to drive ourselves toward excellence through a very particular internal voice—one that was always scanning for what could go wrong, always preparing for criticism, always using self-critique as a protective strategy.

This served us well in those structured environments. It helped us become excellent at what we do. But when we move into coaching or scaling our practices, the parameters change completely. The measuring sticks are different. We want our work to feel lighter, more creative, more fun—but we're still carrying around that younger version of ourselves that equates safety with institutional approval and perfection.

So when we sit down to create content, we're not just trying to write a post. We're having an internal battle between two versions of ourselves: the one that was trained to be excellent through criticism, and the one that wants to create with more freedom and joy.

When the Protector Voice Gets Loud

That younger, institutionally-trained part of us has some choice words to say about our desire to show up online:

"This isn't safe. This isn't excellent enough. You don't have enough integrity in this direction. You don't know for sure you can scale your work. The institutions that shaped you certainly didn't approve of this path. I can keep us safe—don't post this. It doesn't look good enough. And if you're going to post anyway, you better spend hours perfecting it first."

This voice means well. It's trying to protect us from judgment, from failure, from stepping outside the bounds of what feels professionally "legitimate." But what it doesn't understand is that the rules have changed. In this new landscape we're navigating—building our own practices, defining our own measures of success—that protective voice often becomes the very thing that keeps us stuck.

Approaching Content Experimentally

Here's what I encourage people to do instead: treat your content like fieldwork rather than a performance review.

Imagine you have a little field notes notebook, and you're logging the process not to judge yourself, but to gather data. Instead of asking "Was that good enough?" or "Did they like me?" you start asking "What did this teach me?" and "What patterns am I seeing?"

This shifts everything. Suddenly, you're not trying to prove your worth with every post—you're conducting experiments. Some experiments work, some don't, and all of them give you information about how to connect more effectively with the people you're meant to serve.

When you approach content from this observational stance, feedback becomes valuable data rather than praise or rejection. You start noticing: "Oh, people really respond to this type of content" or "I think I'm attracting the wrong clients—what am I putting out there that's creating this pattern?"

Feelings Are Valid, Behavior Is the Compass

I'm going to say something that might sound counterintuitive coming from a therapist: I think focusing on behaviors matters more than focusing on feelings when it comes to showing up online.

Don't get me wrong—your feelings are completely valid. The nervousness, the uncertainty, the fear of judgment—all of it makes perfect sense given the identity transition you're navigating. But here's the thing: you can't fully control how you feel about posting, but you can control whether you post.

Can you write when you feel uncomfortable? Yes. Can you share something when you feel amazing? Also yes. The goal isn't to feel perfectly confident before you act—it's to act in alignment with your values regardless of how you feel in the moment.

This approach frees you from the pressure to feel a certain way and creates space for experimentation. Some of your content won't work, and that's not just okay—it's necessary information for figuring out what does work.

The Permission You've Been Waiting For

One pattern I've noticed with people who do manage to hit "publish" despite their fears: they usually have someone in their corner cheering them on. It might be a peer, a mentor, or even just watching others they connect with sharing imperfectly. There's something about hearing another voice say "You can do this. This is good. It doesn't have to be perfect" that gives people the courage to override their protective inner voice.

But here's what I want you to know: that institutionally-trained version of your identity was important. Those critical thinking skills, that drive for excellence—they're part of what makes you so good at what you do. But they don't have to be the ceiling of who you can become. Your career and your impact can be so much bigger than just that one developmentally important period of your training.

Shades of Gray (and Even Some Color)

When you find yourself stuck in that "I care but I can't show up" cycle, I want you to remember this: showing up doesn't have to be black and white. There are so many ways to nurture your connection to your business and your audience.

Can't go live on video today? Could you write a simple text post? Send a small email to your list? Have a conversation with someone about your work? Use AI to help you process where you're stuck? Do something creative to unlock new insights—take a yoga class, go to a sound bath, walk in the forest?

The goal isn't to meet some arbitrary posting schedule. It's to stay connected to your work and your mission in whatever way feels possible today. Some days that might be a vulnerable video. Other days it might be quietly organizing your thoughts or having a meaningful conversation. All of it counts.

Creating From Permission, Not Pressure

When you shift from trying to prove yourself to simply sharing what feels true, everything changes. Your content becomes more human, less performative. You feel more rooted, more generous, more free. There's less second-guessing because the goal shifts from "prove I'm good enough" to "offer what might help."

This isn't just about making content creation easier (though it does). It's about building a sustainable way of sharing your work that actually feels aligned with who you are and who you're becoming.

Your insights matter. Your experience matters. The perspective you've developed through your training and your life deserves to be shared with the people who need to hear it. You don't have to wait until you feel perfectly confident or have everything figured out.

You just have to start where you are, with what you have, in whatever way feels possible today.

And remember: every expert you admire started exactly where you are now—caring deeply, feeling uncertain, and choosing to show up anyway.


What's one small way you could show up for your business today? It doesn't have to be big or perfect—just true to who you are and what you care about.

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"You're cheating!" and other unkind things I say to myself

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Start Deep, Go Far: Exiting the Social Media Hamster Wheel