My life develops at a glacially slow pace. It used to be a big source of frustration for me, but I’ve come to accept it. Maybe that’s the curse of being a multi-passionate person—your attention goes to so many things that finishing anything takes way more time than it’s “supposed to”.
It took you six months to heal your gut? It took me three years. Three months to quit your job to pursue your side hustle? It’s been three years and I don’t feel any closer than when I started.
It took me three years to start a podcast (maybe things just take three years for me?). I decided it was something I wanted to do in 2021—I even started working for a podcaster in hopes it would give me some sort of boost or leg up.
Spoiler: it didn’t. I was now just spending my time helping someone else live their dream while (conveniently) putting mine on the back burner.
But all the while, I was “working on it”. I made cover art, an Instagram page, and a Spotify for Podcasters account. I spent I-don’t-know-how-much time making Pinterest boards and collages on Canva for how I wanted to turn my office into a podcast studio. I made lists of potential guests and sponsors and bought (after two years of saving) $1,000 worth of professional-grade podcasting equipment.
But did I have a podcast?
No.
But I did learn a valuable lesson:
There’s a huge difference between motion and action.
Sometimes, you hear a phrase or learn a concept and think you understand it, but it’s not until the 3rd, 5th, or 10th time it enters your sphere that it really sinks in.
That’s this concept for me.
I’ve heard it several times and either thought I understood it or it wasn’t for me. After all, I was starting a podcast. Just look at all of the stuff I had done!
All of the stuff that ultimately did not bear any podcast fruit.
It wasn’t until I heard it phrased differently that I actually understood (side note, this is a strong case for doing that thing you want to do, even if you think it’s “too saturated”—there are never too many voices). Not just that—I was also simultaneously watching my husband start a podcast with no hemming, nor hawing, and virtually zero prep. He just… did it. And it was working out.
And it hit me.
All of the things I had been doing were just motion.
Motion is the ideation, planning, and learning stage. The stage where you’re scrolling Pinterest, making vision boards, watching YouTube, listening to podcasts, reading books, etc.
Motion, as I well know, is a dangerous place to be. It feels like you’re doing something, but all the while, the needle isn’t moving an inch. Motion doesn’t produce any results. But it spikes your dopamine just as if it had, which is why it’s so easy to stay there: it feels good without any of the risk.
Action is scary. There’s real risk involved. What if people laugh? What if I fall flat on my face? What if it wasn’t what I thought it would be? What if I lose all of my money and end up destitute and have to resort to a life of crime?
So many variables. So many unknowns.
And it’s made me, possibly, the most stuck person in the world. Over the last few years, I’ve gotten so tired of my own shit. Like a broken record, or a dog that won’t stop barking. The delta between who I think I am in my head and my actually physical reality is as wide as ever, never closing.
I have this habit of always getting ready to live but never really living. Of getting high off of what I’m going to do, of how amazing it will be, but being too petrified to make it a reality. It’s a hard thing to navigate because it doesn’t really feel like fear until you look at it under a microscope. What you’re feeling is the warm-fuzzies of motion.
Here’s probably the most important thing I’ve learned during this process:
You’re going to have to do it scared.
Being scared is better than being in the same place year after year, always saying you’re going to do this-or-that.
Motion is what happens when you let fear into the driver’s seat. Action takes an insane amount of courage. Not courage to do anything in particular, but the courage to be yourself. To know who you are, and to be so secure in that that no matter what happens, you’ll be alright. The fear comes from attaching your identity and worth to an outcome. The courage comes from knowing you’ll still be you, no matter the outcome.
Don’t be me. Don’t put your life on hold. Stop researching. The only way to get good something is by doing it. Not thinking about the theory of it or shopping for what outfit you’re going to wear while you do it.
Let yourself be messy. Do something that makes you think you might puke from anxiety. These are moments where your life begins to expand dramatically. Feel the fear and do it anyway—fear is how you know you’re doing it right.
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This was fantastic. Never have I read something so eloquently elaborated on than this. I deeply resonate with being trapped in the motion stage, I’m just now leaning in to action, and writing a weekly substack has helped in a way… but wow. I’m saving this post to come back to when I need a reminder! Thank you
Erin what a beautiful way you just went into my spirit & articulated my whole entire being! Thank you! This has been me too stuck in that Delta between who i think I am & who I’m being. Spoiler alert it’s not the same person. I love the idea of motion & being a Virgo (Stellium at that! ) yes motion is the lotion for me! Hahaha. But action is scary anxiety inducing but what even more scarier being stuck in motion with nothing to show for it but a depleted energy battery.