A month ago, I took on a project to redesign a business website for family members. I’d done this before, with the help of a developer, and felt confident that I could manage the process again.
But when my go-to web developer wasn’t available, I suddenly found myself questioning everything.
Despite my comfort with design decisions—choosing fonts, adjusting layouts, tweaking images—there was a lot I didn’t know.
How would I solve technical challenges? What if the new developer didn’t understand my vision? And that’s when something unexpected happened: I stalled.
Instead of moving forward, I started researching. And then I researched some more.
Days turned into weeks, not because I was perfecting the plan, but because I was paralyzed by “what-ifs.”
- What if I hired the wrong person?
- What if the project failed?
- What if I wasted time and money?
These questions weren’t productive—they were excuses. The more I researched, the more I avoided making the actual decision.
I wasn’t procrastinating because I was lazy; I was avoiding the unknown.
This realization hit hard. I had always considered myself a calculated risk-taker, someone who could assess a situation and move forward. But this time, fear crept in, disguised as endless preparation.
And here’s the thing: I didn’t even realize it. I wasn’t afraid of hiring someone—I was afraid of everything I couldn’t predict.
The unfamiliarity of the situation overwhelmed me, making the smallest decisions feel monumental.
What I came to understand is that fear of the unknown isn’t about knowing the risks—it’s about fearing what you can’t control.
Procrastination, in this case, wasn’t about time management; it was about avoiding discomfort. I kept waiting for some perfect clarity that was never going to come.
So, where does that leave me?
Well, I still don’t know how the project will turn out, and I’m not convinced the developer I hire won’t disappear into thin air.
But here’s what I’ve figured out: fear is like that annoying backseat driver—always there, always giving unsolicited advice, and never actually helpful. You can’t kick it out of the car, but you can learn to tune it out.
Next time I’m paralyzed by “what-ifs,” I’ll remind myself: no decision is perfect, but sitting in park isn’t getting me anywhere either.
Besides, if things go wrong, I’ll at least get a good story out of it—maybe even another blog post!
Life Outside of Design Studio 