The Imaginary Audience Robbing Your Joy
How long have you been working on this?
Like… a year.
A year?
Yeah. A year.
That was the conversation I had recently with my bestie/unofficial biz coach, as she tried to very kindly talk to me about sunk costs and possibly letting go of the version of this thing I’d been dragging behind me for a very long time.
The “thing” in question?
A quiz.
A fun one, actually.
One that helps you figure out what’s standing in the way of your joy, using iconic (millennial) TV characters as your guide.
The concept? Very me.
The execution? A focused three or four days from being done.
The hang-up? Everything that comes after hitting publish.
Because as it turns out, actually putting it into the world—sharing it, promoting it, letting it be seen—was where I froze.
And instead of facing that, I just kept making excuses.
I don't have time.
This is hard.
I just need to be in a better headspace.
I have so many other things to do.
But really? I was scared.
Not of the quiz itself.
Of being perceived.
I don’t think we talk enough about how many of us are haunted by an imaginary audience.
The one that watches you even when you’re alone.
The one that critiques the way you dance in your kitchen, or speak in meetings, or post something vulnerable online.
The one that keeps you small, polished, pre-approved. Quiet.
Even when no one’s actually looking.
It’s subtle. But it’s powerful.
And it doesn’t just steal your joy - it saps your momentum.
You don’t show up. You delay the thing. You never get the moment of seeing what’s possible.
And I know I’m not the only one.
So many of the women I work with are thoughtful, creative, deeply capable…but they’ve spent a lifetime performing for an audience that doesn’t exist.
Somewhere along the way, they internalized the idea that they’re always being watched, judged, and evaluated.
Even in their own kitchens.
So they shrink.
They say “I just want to feel like myself again.”
But what they really mean is: I want to stop watering myself down into something digestible, something desirable.
They muffle their loud laugh, limit their expectations, speak up less often - waiting for a time it feels “safe” to be fully seen.
But when you’re haunted by an imaginary audience, that safety never comes.
So colour me surprised to be sitting there across from my bestie and hearing myself admit out loud “I know it sounds weird because I share so much online anyways, but I think I’m afraid”.
“I’m afraid that this fun concept I had for doing what can be considered hard work, will make me seem unserious and undedicated and that I’ll be judged for it.”
I wish I could say that right there in that moment the fear disappeared for me.
But it didn’t.
Instead, as I spoke it, I felt myself get tired of waiting. I got tired of my own excuses. I got tired of caring what anyone on Linkedin, or in my real life, or on Instagram, or right here in this newsletter would think.
And I realized that not sharing this thing I'd actually made with love was starting to feel worse than the fear.
In short, I decided to show the fuck up to my life (and my business).
I'm still nervous about being perceived. But I refuse to let myself be shoved into some box about what professional or serious is supposed to look like. Because what do I always say?
We feel the fear. And we do it anyways.
You don't become a badass just out of sheer luck 😉
So here it is, the thing I've been afraid to put out into the world but that I actually, in my heart of hearts, KNOW you're going to love:
Find Your Roadmap to Joy: TV Icon Edition
I made a quiz, with the express purpose of having some fun while we do the work.
You’ll meet the version of you that’s been waiting behind the noise and expectations.
You’ll see what’s been getting in the way.
And you’ll learn how to come back to yourself (and your joy).
I’ll never tell you to do something I won’t do myself. But sometimes we don’t even see it, the fear, until it knocks us over the head.
But I’ve gone first, so now it’s your turn (with love) 🙂
Think about something you're procrastinating on or better yet, worry is “cringe” - and decide that today is the day you show up to it anyways.
Ask yourself - am I performing (or staying quiet) for an imaginary audience? Or is this the realest, truest expression of me?
Because no imaginary audience deserves to have more say in your life than you do.