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I’m not ready for the thing, so I chase the object
I wanted to make soup. Instead, I spent the day chasing a pen. I wasn’t distracted – I was avoiding. The object wasn’t the want. It was the detour I took because I wasn’t ready to start the real work yet. Avoidance always finds something beautiful to hide behind.
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Satisfaction is a loop, not a destination
I rush toward satisfaction with everything I have. And then I get there – and the hunger dies. I used to think the goal was to finally feel satisfied. Now I think satisfaction was never meant to be permanent. It’s a reset, not an arrival. You have to want something new to keep creating.
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The belief was: I’m not consistent. So I didn’t commit.
If I never officially started, I couldn’t officially fail. Testing was the workaround. It let me do the thing without feeding the old belief about myself.
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Seeing it is sometimes enough
I don’t always know what to do with what I notice about myself. But sometimes just seeing and naming the thing helps. Not every insight requires action. Sometimes the awareness is the action.
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The shame isn’t about the spending
I don’t accept my spending habits as okay. I carry shame about how I like to spend money. But the shame was never about the money. It was about the gap between who I am and who I thought I’d be by now.
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We buy what we haven’t become yet
I wasn’t shopping. I was making promises to a future self I hadn’t yet shown up as. The object feels like a commitment. But objects can’t keep promises. Only you can.
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Your body knows when to stop. Do you?
My fingers went numb and I kept writing. The body sent a clear signal – the mind overrode it. Sometimes the block isn’t resistance. It’s exhaustion wearing the mask of laziness.
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Desire is telling you something – but not what you think
I kept chasing the next notebook, the better leather, the perfect tool. A pattern I find myself in constantly. That wanting isn’t about the object. It is restless energy with nowhere useful to go. When emotion has no direction, it shops.
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“Not good enough,” is a feeling, not a fact
I caught myself mid-entry: I don’t think the things I create are good enough. That belief exposed a lie I’ve accepted as fact. The work exists. The feeling was the only thing saying it doesn’t.
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Preparation is sometimes just dressed-up avoidance
I spent more time choosing the right notebook than writing in one. The emotion underneath was resistance – and I let it wear the costume of readiness. The container was never the problem. The fear of filling it was.









