You don’t have to feel ready to be a successful writer to pick up a pen or open a document and write today.
In fact, you’ll probably never feel ready to be a successful writer unless you write today.
This means, strangely enough, that despite how you feel in this very moment, you are entirely ready.
Ready to take the first step.
Sometimes I ask myself if you are asking yourself why I write you a short note every day, my friend.
Maybe I’m giving myself too much credit, and you’ve never asked yourself that question.
But I will answer it anyway, so let’s pretend you have.
Here’s the socially acceptable answer: for more than 200 days, I’ve been writing you a short note every day to remind you to make intelligent decisions about your life and who you want to be.
But as so often with us humans, the honest answer is more self-centered: I write you a short note every day to remind myself to make intelligent decisions about my life and who I want to be.
The fact that some insights are helpful to you is a nice bonus. But I would also write them if you have yet to read a single one of these insights.
Because to me, writing every day is a rallying cry for myself in an invisible battle that nobody might ever see – because it only exists in my head.
A battle against frustration, giving up, limiting beliefs, and a cage of social conditioning from which it’s hard to break free.
A battle to become who I’ve always wanted to be.
Yes, every note I write to you, my friend, is outward proof of a tiny inner victory, taking tiny steps towards more self-trust and fulfillment.
You may tell me I don’t have anything to prove to anyone, especially not myself.
And you may be right.
But I also know that we all have our battles to fight.
Battles about what we believe we deserve or not.
What we think we can do or not.
What we believe is possible for us or not.
What we desire.
Who we can be.
So while you might not be asking yourself why I write you something every day, I am asking myself which battles you are fighting.
I am looking for outward proof of your inner victories.
Whatever they are, when you shine a light on your invisible battles, I’ll be here to cheer you on.
Must your writing get read?
Or is it important to write, just because?
Must you win the races you run?
Or is it important to run, just because?
Must you get recognition for showing loyalty and love?
Or is it important to show loyalty and love, just because?
Just because it aligns with the person you want to be, and the principles to which you want to adhere?
I am tired today.
But I’ll write you something either way, my friend.
Maybe not a full essay.
Maybe just a little wordplay.
But I’ll write you either way.
Why, you say?
Simple.
Because I want this, I want us to be one of those habits that are here to stay.
What are you doing either way because you want it to be one of those habits that are here to stay?
Learning often implies discovering what you can’t do.
I can’t write and convey what I want to say. I can’t speak Spanish fluently. I can’t do this yoga pose.
For many people that’s also the final destination, when in fact, it’s only the start.
We’re missing a word: Learning is discovering what you can’t do yet.
Or, even better:
Learning is discovering what, through diligent practice, you’ll soon be able to do.
After all, actions overrule thoughts.
I can’t write and find the right words… yet. But with diligent practice, soon, I’ll be able to convey what I want to say.
I’m not able to do this yoga pose… yet. But with diligent practice, soon I will.
I can’t speak Spanish fluently… yet. But with diligent practice, soon I will.
That’s all there is to it.
Discover your current limit. Realize that through diligent practice, you’ll overcome it.
Then you’ll find a new limit. And through diligent practice, you’ll overcome it.
Until you find a new limit, which you’ll overcome… through diligent practice.
Where do you let the discovery of your current limit be your end station?
I’ll never believe I can write until I allow myself to write.
I’ll never believe I can grow my body stronger until I allow myself to do do something consistently to grow my body stronger.
I’ll never believe I can mend a mistreated mind until I allow my mind to be mended.
I’ll never believe I can heal a broken heart until I allow myself to start loving again.
You don’t start doing something because you believe you can do it.
You do it because you find leverage to allow yourself to do it, even if it feels outside your comfort zone.
Until here, and no further.
Every time I commit to do something and then follow through, I’m building self-trust in my ability to persevere (because actions overrule thoughts).
Now here’s the pitfall: the action you commit to doesn’t have to be grand or impressive for you to build trust.
There’s only one thing that matters: commit, then follow through.
I set out to meditate 30 seconds today – and I follow through? I’m building self-trust. I’m a meditator now.
I set out to write one sentence – and I actually write one sentence? I’m building self-trust. I’m a writer now.
I set out to do one push-up – and I do one push-up? I’m building self-trust. I’m an exerciser now.
Such tiny actions might not make a huge difference in your skill level, but that’s irrelevant. You’re not building skill (yet). You’re building self-trust by making commitments, then following through.
Once you trust yourself to follow through, you can start thinking about skill. That’s the flow of skill- and habit-building.
So… first things first. Commit to a tiny action. Follow through. Build self-trust and self-esteem.
The magic is in the Tiny Trust Builders.
