Count Me Out: The Courage to Live Without the Next VERSE

There are days when I know I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

I am teaching at a university, building Masterpiece in Progress Learning, writing books, creating programs, and doing work that feels more like me than anything I have done before.

Then there are days when I wonder whether I fell and bumped my head. But I always say "God takes care of fools and babies, and well, I guess I'm not a baby anymore. 

That is the part of betting on yourself that you don't usually see on the glamorous LinkedIn feeds. The dream can be working, and you can still be afraid of it.

For more than two decades, I had the security of a steady paycheck. I understood the demands of corporate life, even when those demands exhausted me. There was comfort in knowing what would happen every other Friday. And there certainly was comfort in having a title, a team, and being part of an organization.

I also know what it feels like to have that security taken away. I've been laid off during my career and in those moments, I had to make a choice. I chose to go back to the security I always knew and had become so fond of. 

In reality, I needed to go back. Savings matter. Benefits matter. RSUs matter. Knowing what will hit your account every other Friday matters, especially when life has already reminded you how quickly certainty can disappear. So please do not walk away from this post hearing that "Dr. Zimmerman told me to quit my job and follow my dream without being ready." Going back gave me stability. And it wasn't until i was fully ready that I fixed these lips to say the words that had been in my heart for years, "I'm going to really make a go of this business thing. I'm going to bet on myself."

But those words bring tension. 

When I feel that tension creeping up, I listen to Kendrick Lamar’s “Count Me Out” as my hype song. The song does not sound like someone who has conquered self-doubt. It really sounds more like someone arguing his way through it, trying to trust himself after spending too much time listening to every voice but his own.

This week, I want to share my favorite lyrics in case you're feeling that tension. 

LYRIC 1: ♪♪♪ We may not know which way to go. On this dark road.

I am not lost in the traditional sense. I know what I care about. I know the work I want to do. But knowing the direction is not the same as knowing where the road will lead.

Some days, I can hold that uncertainty with confidence. Other days, one quiet week or one unanswered proposal can send me searching for proof that I should have stayed somewhere safer. On those days, I take a walk, do some yoga, and remind myself why I chose this path. 

LYRIC 2: ♪♪♪ I care too much, wanna share too much. In my head too much, I shut down too.

That may be the most accurate description of entrepreneurship I have heard in a long time.

I care deeply about what I am building. I want the work to matter. I want every idea to be clear, useful, and worthy of the trust someone places in me.

Then I think about it so much that I can make the work feel heavier than it needs to be.

I also watch talented people announce layoffs on LinkedIn. People with remarkable experience, strong reputations, and years of good work are suddenly asked to explain what comes next. Watching folks in and outside of my network navigate this market reminds me that security has always been more fragile than it appeared.

LYRIC 3: ♪♪♪ 

When I get too far inside my own head, I return to this part of the song:

This time around, I trust myself
Please everybody else but myself
All else fails, I was myself
Out done fear, out done myself
This year, you better one yourself.

Those words are less of a victory speech and more of a decision that I sing repeatedly. Trusting myself does not mean I never question the road. It just means I don't allow the questions to get the final word.

I am not telling anyone to leave before they are ready. Sometimes choosing yourself looks like staying long enough to build the savings, collect the RSUs, recover from the layoff, or figure out what you actually want.

But when the time comes, I hope you do not mistake fear for wisdom. I hope you give your own voice at least as much authority as you have given everyone else’s.

You may not know what comes next. But I do hope you trust yourself while you figure it out. 

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