I Can Only Take Action When It’s Easy
I’ve spent a lot of time imagining what I’ll do once everything lines up, once the timing’s right, once I feel ready, once the pieces are in place. It’s not even that I believe success should be easy. Just that, somehow, I’ve always expected it to feel easy when it’s time. Like I’ll know. Like I’ll slide right into it without resistance. But that day never comes. Not really. There’s a part of me that only wants to move when things are smooth and light and exciting. As soon as effort or uncertainty shows up, I feel myself pulling away. I try for a bit, just enough to say I tried. Then I quit. I reframe. I tell myself that wasn’t the right path anyway. It’s not that I don’t want things. I do. But the moment they start to cost something - time, pride, focus - they stop feeling like a dream and start feeling like a burden. And that’s when I start rationalising my way out. Sometimes I don’t even realise I’m doing it. I’ll blame my circumstances, the people around me, the structure of the world. Sometimes the excuses can even sound logical, like I’m just waiting for a better opportunity or trying to do things “the right way.” But underneath all of it is just fear. I don’t want to commit to something unless I know it’ll work and I want proof before I begin. I can't put a part of myself at risk without some kind of guaranteed reward. So instead I cycle through plans. I talk about them. I make notes. I fantasise about the moment when everything clicks, usually in some dramatic way, like being thrown into a situation where I have to act. Where it’s sink or swim. Where failure would at least be honest. Imagining how well I would do in a world that forces my hand, like a zombie apocalypse, because then I wouldn’t have to choose - then I wouldn’t have to feel like I was the one stopping me this whole time. There’s a part of me that finds comfort in that idea, the fantasy of being forced to rise to the occasion, because if I die, at least I die trying, and if I win, I prove something to myself. But real life doesn’t work like that. No one’s coming to force my hand.