It hit me one day, sitting at a red light. My brain was buzzing with everything I had to do, every goal I thought I should be chasing, every imaginary deadline I’d made up to convince myself I was getting somewhere. And in the middle of it all, I thought, Why am I even driving this car?
Not literally. I mean, I was driving, yes, but that wasn’t the point. I had this sudden, uncomfortable realization that I’d been racing toward something, but I couldn’t tell you what. Just motion for the sake of motion, as if staying busy was the same as making progress.
You ever feel that way? Like you’re flooring it on a road trip, but you forgot to pick a destination? It’s not fun. It’s exhausting. And worse, it’s empty. You’re doing so much, but nothing about it feels good.
I used to think the problem was motivation. If I could just get fired up, find the right system, wake up earlier, or start eating kale or something, it would all click. I’d suddenly have the energy to go faster, be better, hit the goals I kept vaguely sketching in my mind.
But here’s the thing I learned after years of hustling and spinning my wheels: motivation isn’t the problem. It’s never been the problem.
I’ve been plenty motivated in the wrong direction. I’ve put my heart and soul into projects that didn’t matter, goals I didn’t even want, and routines that made me feel like I was accomplishing something just because I was tired at the end of the day.
That’s the lie we tell ourselves: If I just try harder, I’ll get there. But “there” doesn’t mean anything when you don’t know what you want.
I remember one particularly bad stretch in my twenties where I convinced myself I was “building my future.” Nights at coffee shops, headphones on, looking busy. I’d sit there, tinkering, tweaking, researching, but I wasn’t making anything real. It was just activity, a way to trick myself into thinking I was making progress when all I was really doing was avoiding the hard question: What do I actually want?
And that’s the question most people don’t want to face. It’s easier to stay busy, to chase vague ideas of success or freedom or fulfillment, than to sit down and figure out what those words mean to you. I mean, how often do we really stop and think, What does “success” even look like for me?
For a long time, I thought success was money. More money meant more freedom, more fun, more… everything, right? But then I started asking myself why. Why did I want the money? What did I think it would give me? And the answer wasn’t some big house or fancy car. It was time. I wanted time to work on the things that mattered to me, to explore ideas, to be with the people I cared about.
The funny thing is, once I realized that, it completely changed how I approached everything. Suddenly, money wasn’t the goal anymore—it was just a tool. And if time was what I really wanted, there were a million ways to get there that didn’t involve running myself into the ground chasing a paycheck.
It’s amazing how much clarity shifts things. Once you know what you want, really want, everything else starts to line up. Motivation? It’s automatic. You don’t need a pep talk to go after something you care about. Productivity? It stops being about apps and systems and becomes about doing what actually matters.
But here’s the tricky part: clarity doesn’t come from running faster. It comes from stopping. Pulling over. Sitting with yourself and asking the hard questions, even if you don’t like the answers.
It’s uncomfortable. Trust me, I know. When I finally stopped driving for the sake of driving, I had to admit how much time I’d wasted. But you know what? That moment, that pause, was the first real step forward I’d taken in years.
So, if you’re feeling stuck, like you’re spinning your wheels or running full speed toward… nothing, maybe it’s time to pull over. Find a quiet place, grab a notebook, and start writing. What do you want? Why do you want it? Keep digging until you hit something real.
It won’t happen overnight. You might circle the same ideas for weeks before something clicks. But when it does, it’ll feel like finally unfolding the map you’ve been driving without.
And then, when you get back in the car, you’ll actually know where you’re going.
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