Tunnel Vision
Yesterday, I could feel myself slipping, hanging off the edge of that familiar slope. If I lost my grip, I’d tumble straight into the chasm of apathy and depression. The feeling was heavy, hopeless. That quiet kind of glum that creeps in when you’ve been stuck too long; for me it’s been personally, professionally, spiritually. Limbo fatigue.
There’s a weird shame that surfaces when you try something new and it doesn’t stick. That shame piles on top of the usual feelings of failure and colors everything darker. You buy the gear. Make the plan. Feel the excitement at what’s possible. Then life happens. You miss a day. And suddenly, it’s easier to not go back.
It used to end there for me. I’d drop the habit and move onto the next shiny thing. I once heard a doctor explain that people with ADHD aren’t driven by reward or punishment, but by interest and urgency. That couldn’t ring more true.
So now, I try to reframe it: false starts aren’t failures. They’re part of the process. Sometimes you need to test the motion before you’re fully ready for the leap.
That first spark doesn’t need to become a lifelong habit. But it might plant a seed. The fact that you started at all still matters, even if the follow-through takes a few more tries.
Yesterday, I didn’t make it on the bike ride I planned. But I walked up and down 22 flights of stairs. And that’s good enough for me.