Resistance Will Bury You
Let’s talk about fear.
Specifically, a little something Steven Pressfield calls Resistance. (Better believe that’s capitalized for a reason.)
Right this very moment Resistance is making a compelling case for me to… *opens phone to check nothing in particularly before realizing the irony of the situation, sighs loudly, turns phone on airplane mode and banishes it to the crumb graveyard that is the bottom on my bag, reminding me that I should really wash that out toni—OH MY EFF KATE FOCUS*
The Resistance is real.
So very, very real.
And endless. The excuses. The distractions. They’re endless.
Resistance, as Pressfield says, will bury you.
I want out.
I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I don’t want to be this person anymore. The person that says to themselves every night (with conviction), “I’ll start tomorrow.”
The idea of facing another New Year and being in this place (rut?) makes me literally sick to my stomach. It makes me want to crawl into bed and eat all-the-things and hide forever. (See! Right there. Resistance wins again.)
So what is this thing you want to start, Kate? What’s this big dream of yours?
Well, that’s kind of the problem…
It’s not like there’s one specific thing. It’s not like I have this crystal clear vision of, “I want to be a fashion designer. Yes! That’s it.”
I don’t know, exactly-entirely-specificlly, what I want to do or what I see myself doing in five years. Something “creative” for sure but that’s a pretty wide net…
However I do know what I want my life to look like. And I have a sense of the kinds of things I’ll be doing.
I just don’t know… The specifics. How it’s going to work. Or where to start.
And that’s what I’ve been using as my excuse. “Once I know what I want to be the rest will be easy.”
(Resistance you hilarious beast you…)
I may not know the specifics, but I know the direction.
It’s time to start paddling in that direction.
That’s the only way we get clarity, right? Through action?
Time for action. Time to put my paddle in the water. One stroke after another. (Time to find a better metaphor…)
I’m terrified. But that’s how I know it’s right.
Notes to self and you.