“The Block is not your enemy; it is the guardian at the gate of your dreams, asking if you are truly ready to enter.” — Catherine Plano
How often do we find ourselves standing at the edge of something that matters so deeply to us—a moment that could change everything? Our hearts swell with anticipation, our minds are brimming with the vibrant possibility of what could be—and yet, when it comes time to take that next step, we freeze. We feel it, don’t we? The weight of something unseen, something deeply rooted in our being, is holding us back.
This is what I call “The Block.” And my goodness, The Block can be so cunning. It disguises itself as caution, whispers in our ear with a voice that almost sounds like reason: “You’re not ready yet. Just stay where it’s safe.” It wants to protect us, to keep us from the discomfort of vulnerability, but in doing so, it also keeps us from the magic of our own unfolding.
It’s the voice that tells you your dreams are too big, that the risk is too great, that you are not enough for the life you want. But let’s look at what’s really happening here. The Block isn’t inherently evil or malicious—it’s a gatekeeper, trying to shield you from the unknown. But sometimes, in its attempt to protect us, it also keeps us from stepping into our fullest, most brilliant selves. And the price we pay for that protection? It’s our joy, our growth, our very aliveness.
The Gentle Protector
Imagine this for a moment: What if The Block wasn’t just an abstract force, but a character? A being that has been with you for years, always standing between you and the horizon. If it could speak—and believe me, it has a lot to say—what would it tell you? Maybe it would say, “I’m here to keep you safe from heartbreak, from failure, from embarrassment.” Maybe it has the shape of an old friend, worn out but familiar. Or perhaps it’s a shadow, always hovering just out of reach. What name would you give it? The Protector? The Gatekeeper? The Loyal Soldier?
How long has this companion been with you? Perhaps since you were a child, when you first learned that being quiet was safer than being bold, or that pleasing others was the way to survive. The Block took root in those moments, and it grew with every experience that taught you it’s better to stay small. Every time you doubted yourself because someone else doubted you first, The Block grew stronger.
The Cost of Safety
What do you gain by keeping The Block around? Let’s be honest with ourselves—sometimes staying stuck feels easier. The familiar is comfortable. It’s cozy. It doesn’t demand much from us. The Block provides a safe, predictable cocoon. But at what cost? What dreams are we postponing because The Block tells us, “Not yet”?
If The Block were to step aside, what would you face? The terrifying possibility of failure? The dizzying vulnerability of putting your whole heart out there? The weight of others’ opinions as you step into your truth? Yes—all of those things. But what’s on the other side of that fear? Imagine the thrill of living fully alive. Imagine the joy of seeing yourself truly unleashed.
I remember when I first felt The Block in my own life—it was when I decided to write my first book. The whispers of doubt were deafening: “Who are you to think you can do this? What if no one reads it? What if it’s not good enough?” I spent months trapped in those questions, avoiding the blank page like it was my greatest enemy. But one day, I decided to write one sentence. Just one. And that small act of courage cracked the armour The Block had built around me. That single sentence turned into a paragraph, then a chapter, then an entire book. The fear didn’t disappear—but I chose to keep going anyway. And in doing so, I discovered a part of myself that had been waiting to emerge.
Looking back, I can laugh at how dramatic The Block made everything seem. It’s almost endearing, in a way—like a child insisting the monsters under the bed are real. But what The Block didn’t know was this: the life I wanted was far more powerful than the fears it conjured up to keep me safe. And so, I let The Block stay, but only as a spectator—not a decision-maker.
Understanding and Reframing The Block
Let’s not demonise The Block. Instead, let’s sit down with it. Let’s have a heart-to-heart. Ask it: “What is your purpose?” and “What are you trying to protect me from?” Often, The Block is shielding us from discomfort—from the fear of failing, from being seen too much, from the vulnerability of stepping into the unknown. It wants to keep us from hurt, but in doing so, it also keeps us from everything else: from love, from success, from wonder.
Ask yourself: Has The Block ever served you? Maybe it has. Maybe there were times when keeping a low profile was exactly what you needed. Perhaps there were moments when avoiding risk genuinely kept you safe. The Block’s intentions aren’t evil. It’s like an overprotective parent, wanting you to stay small because small feels safe. But now… now you’re ready for more, aren’t you? And the question is: Does The Block still serve you today?
If The Block were a teacher, what lesson might it be offering you? Maybe it’s telling you to trust yourself more. Maybe it’s reminding you that the greatest acts of courage aren’t about erasing fear—they’re about stepping forward in spite of it. The Block isn’t here to ruin your life. It’s here because it thinks you need protecting. But what if you told it, “Thank you. I see you. But I don’t need you in this way anymore”?
You could transform that energy—turn it into fuel. Instead of seeing The Block as a barrier, see it as a nudge that you’re on the edge of something meaningful. The Block appears when something matters. Let it remind you that what lies beyond the fear is something you truly want.
Imagining a Dialogue with The Block
Take a moment now. Close your eyes. Imagine sitting across from The Block as if it were a person. What would you say to it? What would it say in return? Could you thank it for its years of service and then gently let it know that its services are no longer required in the same way?
Tune into where The Block resides in your body. Is it a lump in your throat? A heaviness in your heart? What would happen if you breathed into that space, allowed it to be there, and simply acknowledged it without trying to push it away? Sometimes, just acknowledging the presence of fear makes it loosen its grip.
Now, imagine yourself without it. Picture your life if The Block no longer weighed you down. Who would you be if you were not held back by this invisible force? If you stepped into that uncharted territory, what version of yourself would emerge? Would you be braver? Softer? More alive?
Imagine yourself walking forward—light, free. No more weight on your chest, no more tightness in your throat. What would you do if you weren’t afraid of failing? If you weren’t afraid of being seen fully? If you weren’t afraid of your own brilliance? Picture it—feel the rush of possibility.
Perhaps try drawing The Block—give it a shape, a colour. See it outside of yourself. Externalise it so that it becomes something you can hold, inspect, and ultimately release. Turning The Block into something tangible makes it easier to release its grip.
The Journey Beyond The Block
The truth is the journey beyond The Block isn’t about eliminating fear. It’s about embracing courage. It’s about stepping forward even while your heart races, even when your voice shakes, because you know that the life you want—the full, rich, meaningful life—is waiting on the other side.
The Block has served you, protected you, loved you. But now, it’s time to love yourself enough to say goodbye. It’s time to step beyond the confines of what is safe and familiar and into the glorious unknown. That’s where your truest self lives—on the other side of fear, in a place where courage and possibility dance together.
And so, my friend, I invite you to take that step. Not without fear, but with it. Hand in hand. Because the only way to get to the life you want is to move through the fear—to acknowledge it, to honour it, and then to keep going. With all your heart.
