You don't always have to feel ready to begin

We often imagine that at some point we'll feel ready. Ready to have the conversation, apply for the job, make the change, put ourselves forward, set the boundary or start something new.

We tell ourselves we're waiting for the right time, or until we feel a little more confident, have more clarity or know exactly what we're doing. And sometimes that is exactly what we need. There are times when waiting is wise, when we need more information, more support or simply more time.

But there are other times when we're waiting for a feeling of readiness that may not come first.

Because confidence, clarity and readiness aren't always things we find before we begin. Quite often, they're things we build by beginning.

We like certainty

It makes sense that we do. There's comfort in knowing how something will turn out, that we'll be able to cope, that we won't make a fool of ourselves, disappoint someone, make the wrong decision or discover we're not as capable as we hoped.

So we think some more. We prepare a little longer. We tell ourselves we'll do it when we feel more confident or when the doubts have settled down.

The problem is that our minds can usually find another question. What if I get it wrong? What if they say no? What if I'm not good enough? What if I regret it?

We can spend a long time trying to think our way into certainty about something we can only really learn by experiencing it.

Sometimes the next step gives us the information

I see this particularly around change. We often want to know how the whole thing is going to work before we're willing to take the first step, but sometimes we simply can't know.

You might not know whether a new career direction is right for you until you speak to someone doing the work, take a course, try a small project or put yourself in a different environment. You might not know exactly how you want a relationship to change until you begin saying some of the things you've been keeping to yourself. You might not feel confident speaking up at work until you've had a few experiences of speaking while not feeling particularly confident.

Sometimes action comes from clarity, but sometimes the action itself is what helps us find it.

And our body is part of this too

We tend to talk about readiness as though it's something we decide in our heads, but our bodies are very much part of the experience.

Think about something that stretches you a little. You might notice a tightening in your chest, butterflies in your stomach, heat in your face or an urge to pull back. Your thoughts may speed up and suddenly there are several very sensible reasons why today isn't the day.

That doesn't automatically mean don't do it. But it doesn't mean we should ignore all of that and push through either.

It's information, and we can learn to stay with it for long enough to understand what's happening.

Can I notice the nerves and feel my feet on the ground at the same time? Can I notice what's happening with my breathing? Can I feel the urge to retreat without immediately having to retreat? Can I stay connected to myself while taking one small step towards something that matters to me?

For me, this is quite different from forcing ourselves through fear or overriding what we're feeling. We're including the whole experience rather than waiting for the uncomfortable parts of it to disappear before we're allowed to move.

And we're beginning to experience something important: I can feel discomfort and still have choice.

We build capacity through experience

This connects with something I wrote about in my last blog: what we practise matters.

If I always wait until I feel completely confident before stepping forward, I don't get many opportunities to discover that I can step forward while feeling uncertain. If I avoid difficult conversations until I know exactly what to say, I don't get to practise staying present when a conversation doesn't go exactly as planned. If I only speak when I'm fairly sure nobody will disagree with me, I don't get to experience myself staying with it when somebody does.

The experience itself teaches us something that thinking about it can't.

Maybe I was nervous and I did it anyway. Maybe the conversation was uncomfortable and I stayed present. Maybe I didn't say it perfectly, but I said it. Maybe someone was disappointed with me and I was able to tolerate that. Maybe I didn't know exactly what I was doing and I found my way as I went.

These experiences build on each other. Over time, we're not just telling ourselves that we can cope with uncertainty, discomfort or being seen. We're having an experience of ourselves doing it.

Our body gets to know that experience too.

This isn't about always pushing ourselves

I think this distinction really matters. Not every hesitation is something we need to overcome.

Sometimes the answer genuinely is not yet. We might need rest, support, more information or better conditions. Sometimes our reluctance is telling us something that deserves our attention.

So I don't think the useful question is, How do I make myself do this?

I'm much more interested in: What is stopping me, and what do I notice when I hesitate and what do I notice when I imagine taking the next step?

There may be something there that needs listening to. But we may also discover that what we're waiting for is certainty, or for all the nerves and doubts to go away.

And that might be a very long wait.

Maybe 'ready enough' is enough

Perhaps readiness doesn't have to mean feeling completely confident or knowing how everything will turn out.

Maybe I'm ready enough to send the email. Ready enough to ask the question. Ready enough to say, "Can I come back to you on that?" Ready enough to have the first conversation, try something and see what I learn, or allow myself to be seen before I've perfected it.

We don't have to convince ourselves that we're not nervous, uncertain or afraid. We can notice what's happening in our thoughts and in our body, include all of that in the conversation, and ask:

What is one step I am willing and able to take from here?

Because often we don't become ready and then begin.

Sometimes beginning is part of how we become ready.

Go gently