The First Thought That Tried to Pull Me Backward

As I geared up to take the next step toward something important, the first thought that tried to pull me backward was painfully familiar:

“This is going to take longer than expected…

I’m going to get frustrated…

The interface won’t cooperate…

And then I’ll lose the umph to finish.”

That micro-moment of dread came with an old narrative attached—one shaped by the years I survived IPV, learned to people-please as protection, and lived with the lingering echoes of PTSD symptoms like shrinking myself, dissociating, or abandoning my needs to keep the peace.

And tucked inside that annoyance was a deeper layer:

“If you had stayed small, quiet, agreeable—you wouldn’t be dealing with this today.”

But to honor my growth, I had to face the truth:

I’m not that version of myself anymore.

I don’t shrink to survive.

I don’t silence my needs.

I don’t abandon myself to make others comfortable.

Still, the mind loves its old loops. And so the self-punishment creeps in around whatever situation is activating the spiral—whether it’s money, paperwork, a tough conversation, a decision you keep avoiding, or anything that feels heavy.

For this moment in my life, it surfaced as frustration around being __________ (fill in your own blank—whatever your catastrophizing voice insists on using as evidence against your worth or progress).

What’s the Smallest Step I Can Take in the Next 60 Seconds?

Not finish the whole task.

Not solve the entire situation.

Not rearrange my life in one breath.

Just a micro-move. The tiniest spark of momentum.

For me, the smallest step was:

“Just open the page.”

Just begin the thing.

Break the seal of resistance so my nervous system can exhale.

Because small steps shift timelines.

What Am I Actually Feeling?

A little restlessness.

A vibration in my throat chakra.

A soreness across the left side of my chest that stretching hasn’t quite soothed. And a surprising ease—because writing my truth down always creates spaciousness.

This is how the body speaks.

Not as an enemy…

But as a messenger.

What Is the Actual Fact?

There is nothing in my immediate environment—

no email, no person, no physical threat—

that is causing my frustration or fear.

What I’m feeling is simply the body remembering old survival strategies.

And rooting into the facts helps my nervous system return to the present moment.

What Is the Opposite of What Fear Wants Right Now?

Fear wants paralysis.

Fear wants me procrastinating under the illusion of protection.

Fear wants me convinced that taking action will hurt or overwhelm me.

But the opposite is:

Move with faith that the support, clarity, and alignment I need are already on their way to me.

Even if today’s action is tiny.

Even if I pause halfway and come back.

Even if the very act of starting is the win.

Faith is an action.

Action is self-trust.

Self-trust is the sacred undoing of fear.

Does This Voice Sound Like My Truth—or Someone Else’s Fear?

When I sit with it, I know:

This voice is my truth.

The voice that is resilient, forward-thinking, hopeful, and rooted in my own divine evolution.

The voice that knows I am worthy of support, expansion, and ease.

The voice that refuses to abandon me ever again.

This is me choosing myself.

This is me honoring my healing.

This is me taking the next aligned step—even if it's small.

Because sometimes spiritual growth looks like prayer, journaling, or meditation…And sometimes it looks like simply opening the page.

My question to you is this: What is the smallest possible step you can take right now to move toward the life you’re calling in?

Drop it in the comments, DM me on Instagram, or write it in your journal—declare it somewhere your spirit can see it.