I’m stagnating.
That thought terrifies me.
It’s almost April. I’m almost to the deadline I gave myself for finishing my first draft. And I won’t meet it.
A part of me is really frustrated about this. I can tell this is a younger part, one that formed in my late teens or early 20s. But she’s right. I used to be able to push myself with these kinds of goals. To white-knuckle my way to the finish line. It worked really well for me for a long time.
I tell her that I understand why she’s frustrated. I remind her that this used to be her job and she was good at it and it worked.
But then, for some reason, it stopped working.
I don’t white knuckle my way through much of anything these days.
I don’t like how it feels. It’s okay for the 3-minute cardio finisher at the gym. I can will-power my way through three minutes.
But willpower as a life stance? Eww.
At some point the scale tipped. I started believing that my experience–my enjoyment– of my life was important.
How did I start believing that? It certainly wasn’t something I internalized as a youth in Christian works culture. But in the last decade, slowly, weight shifting gram by gram, my belief moved in that direction. And I noticed that willpower feels bad when stretched out over time.
So a few years ago I did an experiment. I decided, I’m not going to white-knuckle anything. As much as I can, I will not call upon willpower for task completion. It was nice. I needed a break.
I cut back on my work hours. I made simpler meals. I exercised when I felt like it and cleaned when I felt like it. I relaxed.
That sounds nice, right? It was, and it wasn’t.
For that willpower part, the task master that ruled me for so many years, it was extremely uncomfortable.
She would lash out in starts and fits, suddenly declaring that I would track macros to lose weight. Or start a daily writing practice at six in the morning.
Sometimes I would catch her and remind her that this was not her job anymore. But sometimes she was sneaky. She would slip one by me, and I’d find myself counting grams of protein and carbs religiously for a week.
Sometimes she would negotiate with the rest of my system and she’s persuasive. She got us through PA school, and a very task-intensive marriage relationship. She got us through the divorce and separation from a high-demand religion. She got us through years of not having children and then the birth and raising of our son.
Her resume is impressive.
So the rest of the system would relent from time to time, like we did in late December. “Let’s try this goal she wants to do. Let’s finish the manuscript by April.”
My January was quiet. I rose at 6am most days and wrote for an hour. I kind-of enjoyed it. Being a writer is great when your writing is done and the worst when it’s not.
But then February hit and all of the planets moved into my first house. I was pulled from the quiet of winter into a harsh spotlight. Too soon! Not ready! My system protested.
This is when willpower really needed to shine. And she did for about a week. Like a sparkler she dazzled us with her glow and then sizzled to darkness.
“What’s wrong with me?” I asked. The obvious first question. But life was moving along so swiftly there wasn’t quite time to answer.
Then the question shifted. “What’s wrong with this?” I started to wonder if I should even be writing a book in this phase of life. It’s ridiculous, I told myself. No one sane chooses to write a book, or tries so hard to write a good book in their 40s as a single parent. Obviously I should give up and choose a different dream. Or just be happy, not doing this right now. What about that? Why do I even want this?
I watched myself work through this process as I added shifts to my schedule to cover my income taxes and planned PTA events and took my kid camping. Basically I let myself be in the flow of my life, flailing at times, even swimming for the shore some days.
It wasn’t pretty.
But rooted, lasting behavior change never is.
It’s a conversation between parts of myself. An embodied, living experiment where I keep showing up with compassion as I notice what works and what doesn’t.
So I’m blogging again. It’s part of the experiment. Let’s see what I become in the process.
If this resonated…
I offer one-on-one coaching for women navigating burnout, transition, or the slow realization that the life they’ve built no longer quite fits. My approach is thoughtful, grounded, and designed to support meaningful change that can actually hold in real life.