The leap

There’s a moment when thinking ends and doing begins.
For me, that moment came the day I decided to leave my corporate job and give everything to a dream called MadeComfy.

I didn’t have a safety net, a plan B, or certainty, only a feeling that I was meant to do more than play it safe. It was terrifying, liberating, and, in hindsight, one of the most defining choices of my life.

Growing up, entrepreneurship was part of my DNA. Both my parents ran their own businesses, and my father’s side of the family was full of entrepreneurs, some quite successful. It shaped how I saw possibility. Still, like many of us, I followed the “responsible” path: study, career, promotions, stability.

In Venezuela, I’d already made two small attempts to build something of my own, an accounting firm and a children’s entertainment business;  but both remained side projects. My corporate work always took precedence. I was good at it. I thrived in it. And it became my comfort zone.

When the idea for MadeComfy first appeared, something inside me shifted. I felt a spark that I hadn’t felt in years. At the time, I was working at Kellogg,  a great company with wonderful people;  but the role itself had become mechanical. Nine to five. Predictable. Uninspiring. I used to lie in bed some mornings struggling to find a reason to get up, and that scared me.

I hadn’t migrated across the world to feel safe. I had come to grow.

Around that time, I was watching Homeland. There’s a scene where Carrie Mathison’s sister tells her: “Go and do what you were born to do. I’ll take care of your daughter.”
That line landed deep. It made me think about purpose, about the fire that keeps some people moving even when there’s no paycheck, no applause, no guarantee.

Soon after, I went out for dinner with a close friend, a successful Australian entrepreneur. I told him about my idea for MadeComfy, the vision, the potential I saw. He listened, then looked at me and asked, “Have you left your job yet?”

When I said no, that I was waiting for the right moment; he smiled and said, “there is no big risk Sabrina, if it doesn’t work, you’ll find another job. But you have to give it a go.”

It was so simple. But that conversation felt like someone handing me the permission I didn’t know I was waiting for.

The very next day, I resigned.

No investors, no backup. Just conviction.
And truthfully, it was much harder than I imagined. There were days of fear, doubt, and exhaustion. But that leap, that single act of choosing possibility over security, became the foundation for everything that followed.

I’ve never regretted it. Not once.

Sometimes we wait for courage to appear before we act, when in reality, courage is born in the act itself.
You become brave by doing the thing that scares you.

What’s the leap you’ve been waiting too long to take, and what might happen if you stopped waiting?

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