The Courage to disappoint: Breaking free from expectation to live your truth out loud

Click here for the audio and video version - read by the author herself.

I walked my bicycle through the iron gate into the front yard, the metal chain ticking with each step. I was 14 years old. It was 8 p.m., and the night felt unusually heavy.

In the living room, my dad sat in front of the TV as always. But this time, his face was clouded. Something in the air told me I was in trouble.

"Hi, Dad!" I tried to slip past him toward the stairs, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

"Where have you been?" His voice cut through the room.

My stomach sank. He knew.

Instead of attending my after-school physics class, I had spent the afternoon playing computer games at the Internet cafe. I had no idea how he found out, but he did.

I stood frozen at the bottom of the stairs, unsure of what to say. My dad rose from his chair and walked toward me.

BAP!

The slap stung, then burned. I could handle that—I’d been slapped before. But what came next broke me.

“I am very disappointed in you.” His voice was ice.

Those words cut deeper than the slap ever could. I panicked.

"I’m sorry.” A whisper.

“I’m sorry.” Louder now.

“I’m sorry!” Over and over, as if I could stitch the wound shut with repetition.

In my family, being ngoan - the Vietnamese word for obedient - was everything. A good girl was pleasant, respectful, helpful, and earned good grades at school.

Being ngoan earned me Dad’s smiles, Mom’s pride when she boasted about me to our relatives, and trips to the DVD store for a minted copy of The Lords of The Rings.

The opposite of ngoan was hư - stubborn, rebellious, and disappointing. And the cost of being hư wasn’t just the slap; it was the withdrawal of love. Love became something I had to earn, and when I failed, it felt like it was taken away.

That’s how the fear of disappointing others planted itself deep in my heart.

Years later, I found myself haunted by that same fear—just in a different disguise.

*We carry our childhood wounds like invisible luggage and project them onto everyone around us.*

At 23, I was working in Rotterdam, The Netherlands. A Vietnamese woman with a seat at the global leadership table of AIESEC, the world’s largest youth-led organization for leadership development of young people.

From the outside, I was making history. But inside, I was barely holding it together.

Rotterdam's sky mirrored my inner world—gray, heavy, relentless. I felt like an imposter in one of the most democratic, open-minded workplaces imaginable.

Nobody explicitly put pressure on me—my teammates were kind, thoughtful, and supportive—yet every day felt like The Hunger Games. One wrong step, and it’d be over. I’d disappoint someone, prove myself unworthy, and crumble.

Thousands of AIESEC members around the world would have given anything for that role. It could have been the most incredible year of my life. But my fear turned it into one of the most stressful years I’ve ever lived.

We carry our childhood wounds like invisible luggage and project them onto everyone around us. That’s exactly what I did.

Most of us want to do good work and meet others' expectations. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that.

But when the fear of disappointing others comes at the cost of our well-being, our mental health, and our truth, we have to pause and ask ourselves why.

Why do we say "yes" when we mean "no"?
Why do we choose a career that drains us instead of lights us up?
Why do we twist ourselves into knots, making life a living hell, just to avoid letting someone down?

Tania, a coaching client, once told me about the night she sat in her bedroom, sobbing, with a job offer letter in her hands. It was a prestigious role that made her parents proud—but it wasn’t her dream. She felt trapped between obligation and authenticity.

That night, she sat with the letter in one hand and her dream in the other, realizing she couldn’t have both.

Tania’s deeper struggle wasn’t just indecision; it was that she’d spent years living up to others’ expectations and lost access to her own inner compass—that quiet, intuitive voice that whispers answers to questions like:

"What do I really want?"
"What is my purpose?"

Part of my work as her coach was helping Tania reconnect with that compass. Her guiding affirmation became: I give myself permission to disappoint others.

Not out of cruelty or selfishness, but out of kindness to herself.

The more Tania practiced this, the more freedom and lightness she felt. That spaciousness allowed her to explore work that lit up her soul. She went on to create a career aligned with her strengths and passions.
Here’s the truth: You cannot live your purpose, speak your truth, and build something meaningful without disappointing people. It’s part of the journey.

And no, giving yourself permission to disappoint others does not make you selfish. The fact that you’re even asking that question shows how much you care.

Sacrificing your truth to earn someone’s approval? That’s selfish—to your inner child, to your soul, to your highest self.

*We need to remember that the right people—the people who love us for who we are—can handle disappointment. And they will still love us.*

It was 9 p.m. I was lying in bed, pinned down by my 5-month-old daughter, her cheek warm against my breast. If I moved, she’d stir. So I stayed still, eyes open in the dark.

Earlier that day, I’d been pushing myself to finish an online course I had convinced myself was the next step for my business. My partner had helped me set up the tech because we’d agreed this was the right move.

But as I lay there, I couldn’t ignore the knot in my gut. I knew this wasn’t the right course. My intuition had been whispering that for weeks, but I had shoved it down because I didn’t want to disappoint my partner.

I had a choice to make: betray myself to please him or stay true to myself and risk his disappointment.

I chose to stay true.

When I told him, I could see the disappointment on his face. It was uncomfortable—but I didn’t die. And guess what? Neither did he. He processed his feelings and moved on. He continued to support me as I found a topic that genuinely lit me up.

We need to remember that the right people—the people who love us for who we are—can handle disappointment. And they will still love us.

Now, as a coach who helps other heart-centered coaches build financially sustainable and soul-fulfilling businesses, I see this fear show up all the time.

Many aspiring coaches hesitate to show up online, share their unique story, or charge fair rates for their life-changing work. Why? Because they’re afraid of disappointing their family, their peers, a potential client, or even strangers on the internet.

But the world doesn’t need another coach hiding behind a facade of perfection.

The world needs you in your fullest, most truthful expression.

Building a soul-aligned coaching business means being willing to stand tall in your truth, even if it shakes the ground beneath others’ feet. It means risking the discomfort of disappointing someone else so you don’t abandon yourself.

When you give yourself permission to disappoint others, you finally let yourself thrive.

And different from that evening at 14 when I walked through the iron gate, I realize now that my worth isn’t tied to obedience anymore. I no longer hear the metal chain ticking with fear - I hear the hum of my purpose.

No more being a good girl by someone else's definition—I am a woman who belongs only to herself.

And now a gift to you.

The poem is titled “When the golden cage crumbles”. I wrote this poem back in 2018 and it has gone through several rounds of edit.

As you’re reading and listening through it, you’ll find it very fitting with the theme that I mentioned in the article; breaking free from fear and owning who you’re meant to be.

When the golden cage crumbles
You’re trapped in a golden cage.
Handcrafted by your culture
Each bar a decree:
Your mother wants you to be a doctor
Your father, an engineer
Your friends want you to blend in,
Your leaders want you to bend.
They all want you to be someone.
You forget how to be you -
the girl who wants to dance beneath shooting stars,
the boy who longs to run barefoot with wolves in moonlight
You’re trapped in a golden cage.
Made by your own hands,
With your beak and claws, you collect gilded straws
Weaving neat little rows -
Because they said that’s what birds need.
Because they said that’s where birds belong.
You stay in the golden cage.
Dreaming of flight but fearing the fall.
"It’s too vast," you whisper. "Too wild."
So you make yourself small.
Fold your wings until they crack.
"It hurts," you say,
"But it’s safe -
like a cocoon that forgot how to open."

One morning, an eagle cuts through the clouds -
its shadow long and holy.
It cries out:
“Child, remember who you are.
The cage is not real.
It will crumble.
The moment you choose to leave it.
Trust your wings,
Trust the wind and the sky.”
You inhale.
Once. Twice.
Seven deep breaths.
Your wings unfurl—
A blazing storm of red and gold,
Like a sunrise that cannot be caged.
With wings of fire, you torch
the black-and-white polaroids of “must” and “should”:
You, wearing a perfect apron,
standing in a perfect kitchen,
holding a perfect pie,
smiling a perfect lie.
You, lying awake,
counting your mistakes
instead of stars.
You, sweeping your dreams
under the rug where you stand,
Behind the lives of others.
Let them burn to ashes.
And rise.
Rise - a phoenix reborn.
Can you see it now?
The sky - painted wild with your name.
You, dancing beneath shooting stars
You, running barefoot with wolves in moonlight.
You, casting off shame like a torn veil - your beauty, bare and unbreakable.
You, glowing in the center of your truth - a wildfire untamed.
You, softening into love - the kind you don’t need to earn.
You -
Claiming the sky that was always yours.
You -
Let the golden cage dissolve into smoke.
You -
Set yourself free.

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P.S: follow your calling

Once you’re free from the fear of disappointing others, you’ll have more space to follow your calling and create a soul-filling career or business. Clarity of purpose is essential here.

Which is why the Zero to Launch Manual is here to help you with the 5-step framework for starting your coaching business and winning your first soulful client.

Download the full manual below.

SHARING = LOVING

The freedom you want is possible!

Hey, fellow purpose-driven human!

I’m Milena. When I was 24, I said no to corporate job offers to “do my own thing.”

9 years, some major fumbles, 3 TEDx Talks, 1 published book, 50,000 followers, and hundreds of clients (from 15+ countries) later…

I make a multi-six-figure living as a coach while spending most of my time walking barefoot in my apartment. #introvertgoal

I know you want to make a difference.

I’m here to help you turn that calling into a financially sustainable coaching business — while staying away from the hustle, and skipping the pitfalls that trip up most new coaches.

Quit your 9-to-5. Move to a paradise island. Slow yoga every morning. Work from sunlit cafes. Make time for loved ones (including yourself). Grow your influence. Wake up excited about your day. And serve only the clients who light you up…

All of that (and more!) is possible, once you have the right support.

Let me help you shine.

that’s not enough, tell me more!