Lying in bed this morning, listening to the birds outside and watching daylight creep into my bedroom, I had a realization. I have a lot. I freak out occasionally about being broke, but in this moment, I am utterly content with life. More importantly, God will only trust me with more if I use what I already have—for His glory and in the right way.
I have this writing talent. I’m just not consistent with it. I have to start somewhere. I have to start over. I have to start again. And I think that’s the part that’s annoying. That’s the part that’s aggravating—the fact that I actually stopped at some point. And now, I need to restart. Re-engage. Just start.
It’s so simple and, at the same time, so difficult. I’ve had to restart working out—and I did that. I’m doing that. I’m working. I’m just going. I stopped trying with working out and just trained.
Don’t get me wrong, the reasons for the writing hiatus this month were legion. From courthouse appearances, to embracing the fact that I am cannon fodder in a battle not of my own making, life has been… taxing.
A few weeks ago, I took a message from my pastor to heart—maybe a little too literally. But I figured if I stopped trying in one area of my life and just trained, then other areas would begin to fall into place. And I guess this is the third week of me not trying but training. Disciplining my body to get up at a certain time is now allowing my brain to click: with my writing, I need to do the same thing. Stop trying and just train.
I have to start. I just have to start. Because starting is always the hardest part of finishing. Some people never start.
I started—and then I stopped.
And I had the audacity to ask one of my closest girlfriends yesterday to help me start something else, to keep me in check for something new. Then I mentally slapped myself, because she encouraged me instead of saying no. Instead of telling me to start something new, she challenged me: Prove to me—and to the world—that you can restart and keep going with what you already started.
I hate that I’ve inherited this trait, but I am determined to break this cycle. I am determined to start and not stop.
And this is the first step.
This first step started as a voice note, but it will be transcribed, then edited and refined, and eventually published. That is the catalyst. I’ll just have to take things one day at a time—not think about the big picture. Because when I think about the big picture, regardless of what it’s about, my brain shuts down.
So—baby steps. Just start. Even if it’s just one step.
Don’t think about the entire marathon. Sprint.
Thanks, Kaylis. If you ever read this, thank you. No more marathons—just short sprints.
Awesome.
Not sure if anybody else will read this, but—whatever you’re doing, or whatever you stopped doing—just start.
If it was something bad, stop. Definitely stop.
But if it was something good—if it’s something you think will help someone else—just start.
It’s not going to hurt anybody.
It’s not gonna hurt you.
Just take that first step and start.
Even if it means you’re starting again.
—
Song: Three Little Birds
Artist: Bob Marley & The Wailers
Album: Exodus
Release Date: 1980
