She was interested. I walked away.

There’s something I haven’t shared.

Or rather, something I’ve been circling around without landing.

About a year ago, I went through a breakup. One of those that doesn't just break your heart, but breaks your sense of being.

Not in a debilitating way—I still worked, coached, showed up.

But something inside me collapsed.

The version of me that thought he had it figured out—emotionally aware, evolved, deeply grounded—was stripped of certainty.

And for months, I retreated into healing.

Intense at times—but mostly quiet.

Private. Controlled.

I processed. Reflected. Grew.

But here’s what I didn’t fully admit—at least, not until recently.

Along the way, I stopped choosing.

I stopped stepping forward.

I told myself I was healing, rediscovering, putting myself back together.

But beneath all that?

I was afraid.

Not just of getting hurt again—But of wanting something real, without being able to control the outcome.

At one point, I started going out again.

Meeting people.

Women.

Not many.

Just a few.

After months of healing, I thought I was ready.

But I realized I was still guarded.

I’d show up—charming, insightful, present—but a part of me stayed hidden, quietly watching from the back row.

I was holding back the part of me that actually wants, the part willing to risk being seen in uncertainty.

Not long ago, I met a woman on a flight. We talked. Laughed.

She was interested. Open.

I felt that too.

And it wasn’t the first time.

A few conversations lately—different places, different faces—but the same pattern.

When the moment came, I didn’t open the door for more.

And I told myself a story: “She lives too far.” “It’s not the right time.” “Why complicate things?”

Truth? I didn’t trust myself to open the door.

Because what if she wanted something I didn’t?

What if I wanted something I wasn’t sure of?

What if it was messy?

And messy has a cost.

That’s when it got real:

I realized I wasn’t protecting myself from people.

I was protecting myself from what happens when I step into something unscripted—and don’t get to control the outcome.

And then it hit me:

What I was doing in my personal life,

I see leaders do every day at work.

We say we want connection. Adventure. Growth. Innovation. Change.

But we still filter it through old parameters: logic, past pain, emotional control.

We hesitate to name what we want.

We run every idea through a filter of risk and reputation.

I’ve coached leaders who:

• Keep quiet because they don't want to "damage" a relationship

• Over-analyze decisions until the moment to act is gone

• Want bold moves, but only if there's no risk to their image

• Say they want feedback, but resist it unless it's framed just right

• Keep their aspirations vague so they can't fail at naming what they actually want

The pattern is the same:

We think we’re being careful. Mature. Considerate.

But really, we’re protecting ourselves from what happens after we act.

We call it discernment. But it’s fear.

We call it alignment. But it’s hesitation.

We call it wisdom. But it’s often nothing more than well-dressed paralysis.

And the cost?

Nothing changes.

You don’t get hurt—but you don’t get free.

You don’t fail—but you don’t feel.

You don't lose—but you don’t love.

And worst of all—we lose the chance to know ourselves in the discomfort.

So here’s where I am now:

I’m not searching. I’m not dating. (Honestly, as an Italian, even after 30 years in the U.S., the word “dating” still sounds like something you do with a calendar.)

What I’m focusing on now—personally and professionally—is watching myself more closely.

Not in a critical way. But with curiosity.

Where do I pull back when something real shows up?

Where do I protect instead of participate?

Where do I try to manage how I’ll be seen, rather than let people meet the truth of me?

That’s leadership too.

It’s not just about delegation, vision, or confidence.

It’s about recognizing where we still curate ourselves—so we never have to feel exposed.

Comfort hasn’t taught me anything worth keeping.

And the moments I’ve grown the most—personally or professionally—weren’t the ones I prepared for.

They were the ones that caught me off guard, kicked my ass, stripped my defenses, and forced me to trust myself without the safety net.

So what does this have to do with you?

Ask yourself:

• Where are you managing your image instead of showing up raw?

• Where are you analyzing instead of choosing?

• What do you keep “figuring out” so you don’t have to take the next step?

• Where are you waiting to be certain before you speak up?

Maybe you don’t need more clarity.

Maybe you just need more truth.

And the courage to move before you're sure.

Just notice.

This is what I finally see:

I don’t need to trust others more. I need to trust myself with others.

That I could survive heartbreak again.

That I can hold desire without being ruled by it.

That I can step into something unknown—not because it’s safe, but because I finally am.

Without walls or protection.

I want to move not from fear, but into grounded trust.

The kind that doesn't come from guarantees—But from knowing that how we show up shapes what shows up for us.

This isn’t just about relationships.

It’s about how we lead.

How we decide. How we influence.

Because fear tightens.

But trust expands.

That’s the pivot.

That’s the work.

And it changes everything.

Until next time

Stay true.

💙

Roberto

====================

Follow me, Roberto Giannicola, for more content and insights.

Book a call