the kids, the business, the life we’ve built together — I sat in a hotel room between competitions and wrote Andrew an email I almost didn’t send. 

My entire life fit in a suitcase. Competition credentials from cities I barely remembered. Leotards covered in chalk. Just enough normal clothes to remind me that somewhere, a regular life existed.

But not for me. 

I’d learned to be self-sufficient in ways most people twice my age hadn’t mastered. I’d traveled the world, stood on Olympic podiums, felt the weight of a nation’s expectations. And somewhere along the way, I’d convinced myself that independence equals strength. That needing others is a weakness you can’t afford. 

So when it came time to move to Nashville — for Andrew, for us, for a future I couldn’t quite picture — I poured out every anxiety in that email. About how fiercely independent I was.

The email revealed the core fear I’d never articulated: that I’m “unlovable” if someone gets too close. 

I rented an extended-stay hotel room first. Couldn’t bring myself to fully commit. But each day, each dinner shared, each ordinary moment of just being together, something shifted. I realized that commitment isn’t about losing yourself. It’s about growing into a fuller version of yourself. 

And here’s what I wish I could tell everyone sitting in their own version of that hotel room right now: 

The scariest commitments aren’t the big public ones. They’re the quiet, private decisions to let someone in. To depend on someone. To stop hedging and say: I’m here. Fully. 

This doesn’t just apply to romantic love. It applies to anything that asks you to be vulnerable. Starting a business with a partner. Joining a community where people will

actually know you. Committing to a church instead of church-hopping. Moving to a new city. Going all-in on a friendship. Asking for help. 

Whatever you’re considering committing to right now — a person, a project, a conversation you’ve been avoiding — the scariest part is always the email you almost don’t send. The conversation you almost don’t start. The first step toward needing someone. 

Independence isn’t bad. But it makes a lousy fortress. 

Independence isn’t bad. But it makes a lousy fortress. 

This story is one of eighteen in our book The Courage to Commit (out June 9th)!

Each chapter is a different lesson about what happens when you stop looking for the exit. Pre-order by clicking the image below!

What’s the email YOU almost didn’t send? The conversation you almost didn’t start? We’d love to hear. Hit reply. 

— Shawn & Andrew

If today's newsletter made you smile, do us a favor and tell a friend or family member to subscribe!

We’re All In This Together

You are receiving this email because you've signed up for newsletter updates from FamilyMade, Shawn Johnson East or Andrew East.