Today is the day.
October 27th, 2026 . . . the day we’ve been talking about on our team all year . . . the day that has been marked on my calendar since last summer . . . the day that my new book officially enters the world.
Today, I’m thinking about everything it took to get here.
The proposals that weren’t accepted by publishers and the heartbreak that came with that. The countless times I had to dig deep into my soul to bring my fingers back to the keyboard and keep trying. The times when I almost gave up and sunk into sadness and embarrassment, thinking another book just wasn’t in the cards for me, no matter how much I wanted it to be.
I’m thinking about the rainy night in my office when inspiration struck and I rewrote a proposal that I knew was it. And I’m thinking about Brian, the editor who believed in me and my idea and offered me a book deal over the phone when I was sitting in the lobby of my doctor’s office. I’m thinking about the moment when the clouds lifted and I disappeared into the magical writing bubble that I didn’t ever want to leave. I’m thinking about the nights I wrote thousands of words, the nights I wrote none, and all the nights in between. I’m thinking about the breakthroughs and the moments I saw myself clearer than I ever had and the times I had to relive moments of crushing guilt and pain. I’m thinking about the compassion, love, and forgiveness I learned to extend to myself, stronger than ever before. I’m thinking about the people who lifted me up, encouraged me to keep going, read early drafts for me, pushed me to my edges even when it felt scary—and how they carried me through every page.
I’m thinking about all of it. But mostly, I’m thinking about surrender.
It’s scary to launch a book into the world.
Today, this book is out of my hands. It’s done. It’s published. It’s no longer just mine. People are reading it and listening to it and making it their own, and I can’t change a thing.
For me, it feels like putting my heart on display. I'm knowingly putting myself in a place where there’s a big risk that I’ll get hurt. I know there will be people who don’t like it and that their words may make me feel like I shouldn’t have written this book. Thinking about that makes me want to curl up into a ball and fast forward a few years.
I know these feelings are human, though. I know they mean I wrote something I actually give a damn about.
I’ve learned so many lessons while working on this book, but the biggest one is about surrender.
I can’t control what people will think about or do with what they read. And while that is absolutely terrifying, it’s also incredibly freeing. I know in my heart that I wrote the best book I could. I know that this book is the truest expression of me that I am emotionally, physically, and mentally capable of creating at this time in my life. I know that I gave it my all and that I created it to help people feel seen. And that is what I keep coming back to time and time again.
My therapist and I have talked a lot about how this week might feel for me. I’ve shared with her (ad nauseam) how scared I am for people to read what I’ve written.
“What’s so scary about it?” she asked me. “If you peel it all back, what is the scariest thing that could happen?”
After trying to answer her question a few times, and after she encouraged me to go deeper with every answer, I finally got there.
“I’m scared that people will have a perception of me that isn’t true,” I told her. “And that there won’t be anything I can do to change what they think.”
That’s it. What if people get the wrong idea about me? What if they think I’m selfish or uncaring for feeling what I’ve felt and choosing to write about it?
“Well, what if they do think that?” my therapist asked.
“I know I’m not those things.” I said. “But I guess I can’t change how people see me.”
And that’s what it means to surrender.
No matter how much we want to influence how people see us, protect our hearts, refrain from doing anything that could possibly give someone the wrong idea about us . . . it may still happen. There is nothing you can do to control how someone sees or experiences your work or how they see you. Absolutely nothing. That’s the cost of putting yourself out there.
And so, today is about surrender. Surrendering to how people perceive the book and perceive me. Surrendering to whether it makes its way into the world in the way I hope it does or not. Surrendering to how much it helps people and whether it resonates. I can’t control any of that. All I can do is remind myself that I wrote the best book I could. I know who I am in my heart . . . and for the first time in my life, that is enough for me. Actually, it’s everything.
I used to judge my success only by what the world thought of me. External validation used to drive me. But it’s not like that anymore. I am so insanely proud of myself. October 27th, 2026, is here, and it’s because I never gave up. I did that. I’m proud that I've written not one book, but two, and I’m proudest that I wrote this one on my terms. Every part of writing this book felt joyful and sacred, even when it was hard. It’s worth the fear I’m feeling now a million times over.
Thank you for giving me a space to share all of the lessons that writing this book has taught me, and especially the lesson of surrender.
Here’s to being brave and having the courage to be authentic, even when we know that not everyone will like what they see. It’s one of the hardest and best parts of being human, I think.
Big hugs,
Kristen
(PS: If you haven’t gotten your copy yet, you can order it here.)
