Back in October, I circled today’s date on the calendar. Knowing that the next few months would be incredibly intense, I decided to opt-out of the traditional New Year’s planning process, deferring it until I reached a natural pause in my schedule.
In fact, I had no idea how true that would be.
From Halloween through to February, the rest days were few and far between. I justified my growing addiction to Monster Rehab and the spaced-out hours of television that creeped back into my schedule. And then my body simply gave out.
Even after I grasped yesterday’s revelation that action leads to motivation (not the other way around), I still wasn’t out of the “mud.” I knew I needed to take action, but I often couldn’t bring myself to do it. Often, I was literally stuck.
Then something very odd happened yesterday morning.
My alarm went off at 5:15 am, as normal. I turned it off and snuggled underneath the covers, convincing myself that I needed an extra hour of sleep more than I needed to workout. After all, I was tired. (It’s been a brutal few months by any standards, and I’ve got at least another 30 days of this pace.)
Then I found myself in the kitchen at 5:35, getting a spoonful of almond butter and a banana. I don’t even remember the minutes in between. Getting in the car at 5:40, it dawned on me what really happened.
Falling down sucks, particularly if you’ve climbed a little higher since the last time you fell down. It hurts more. The bruises and scrapes are little deeper.
Then the mental games begin. And they’re far worse than the physical ones.
It feels like being stuck in mud as far as you can see. It takes all your strength to simply stand up, and then there’s no clear path out. It’s frustrating and exhausting.
What to do?
For most of my twenties, I had horrible pain in my hands and forearms. Sometimes it was a steady ache, sometimes a shooting pain, and sometimes it just felt like I was on fire from the elbows down. I’ve had all the tests and lived on Celebrex for a while. (Whoever invented the test for Carpal Tunnel Syndrome deserves a special episode of Alias just for them.) It really was never diagnosed as anything specific, and I eventually quit seeking traditional medical care for it.
Once I started working out regularly and eating better, it mostly went away.
Until the last ten days or so.
I used to think that there was an “it” to figure out, that one day everything would snap into place and make sense. I’d know my purpose and exactly how to fulfill it.
In search of that, I’d dip a toe, or maybe a calf, into something new, and then move on when it wasn’t perfect. I was committed, but there was always a part of me that held back. At the time, I wasn’t even aware that I was shielding myself, but it’s clear as day looking back. I wanted the certainty first.
Somewhere in the last couple of months, I’ve realized that it’s not likely to happen that way. But I’m not the least bit disappointed.
It’s hard to believe this day is here already.
On November 1, I threw down a challenge to myself. It went like this:
“I can memorize verses and inspirational quotes. I can write down my goals and action lists every week. But none of that matters if I don’t live it out. I’ve realized that every day is a test. It’s an opportunity to demonstrate my faith and my priorities – mainly to myself. If I let anxiety or worry or busyness distract me too much, I’ve failed my test for that day. This month, I’m setting the bar low. My test for each day is to post a complete thought or observation to this blog, sometime before midnight.”
I wouldn’t be telling the truth if I said that I was 100% confident that I could do it. History wasn’t in my favor.
But the results surprised me, and they might surprise you too.
When we’re just getting started, focusing on the trivial details is often just another name for procrastination. Instead of doing work that matters, we worry about stuff that doesn’t.
Before this month, this was a huge obstacle for me when it came to writing. I would worry about having the perfect environment with just the right amount of background noise. I’d doubt my ability to write at the end of the day. I’d even research the best software for facilitating writing or go to “meetups” with other writers to learn helpful tips.
I don’t think beginning matters anymore.
Starting a blog or new website project. Planning to write a book. Deciding to work out more or eat healthier. Sketching the outline of a new masterpiece. Opening the spreadsheet for next month’s budget. Reading Genesis 1.
I dare say that none of these matter. On most things, the barriers to starting are so low that they require very little forethought or commitment.
Yet we celebrate as if it were a significant milestone. We feel great. And what’s really been accomplished? Nothing.
Maybe not completely. But almost.
I’ve talked with several people lately that want to make changes in their life before the year ends. They’re all changes that they’ve attempted in the past. What’s different this time?
They are going to try harder. That’s it. That’s the plan.
And it’s pretty much guaranteed to fail – like it has every other time before.
Pretend the goal is trying to bowl a strike. Using willpower means you’ll end up in the gutter nearly every time. Here’s what to do instead.
I have this debate with myself all the time, and I’m guessing you probably do too.
Should I think and plan and research until I find perfection? Quality. Or should I just get started and plan on needing a few tries? Quantity.
I’ve decided that the debate is over.
