The Truth About Motivation: What Actually Keeps You Going
People talk about motivation like it’s something that just shows up out of nowhere — like you can sit on the couch watching Netflix and suddenly feel ready to change your life.
To be honest, sure—I have those days or a few days in a row where I feel amazing. I’ve had sleep, work has gone well, life has been quiet, and I feel like I can conquer the world. But that’s not motivation. That is circumstance, hormones, and alignment.
When I’m overwhelmed, burned out, or depressed, motivation is usually the last thing I feel. There have been mornings where it is all I can do to drag myself out of bed, get the kids to school, and get to work. Not because I don’t care, but because my brain is tired and overloaded.
Many people aren’t unmotivated—they’re exhausted. They’re stretched thin. They’re trying to hold everything together, and there’s not much left to push with. Their nervous system is fried. And some people were simply never taught how to begin, or they’re stuck in trauma and need support. It’s not a character flaw. It’s overwhelm.
Waiting to “feel ready and worthy” kept me stuck for a long time. If I’m honest, it still tries to pull me back.
How My Brain Works (and Why it Matters)
I’m not someone who remembers every quote or detail. I take in ideas in pieces. I am a “big picture thinker”—how does this fit the bigger purpose or get me from point A to B? I remember the feeling of something, the impression, the meaning, the purpose. My brain pulls pieces together and finds the point.
For years, I thought this was a weakness. Like if I couldn’t repeat something word-for-word, or tell you exactly where I heard it or who said it, it didn’t count. Like I was a liar or inauthentic.
But healing taught me something else: you don’t need perfect detail to understand the truth of something. A lot of my growth has come from small moments I can’t fully quote—just things that hit at the right time and stayed with me.
And when something hits me, I don’t just think “that’s a good idea.” I try it. Like when my therapist told me to do something alone, and I went dancing. That moment changed me because I acted on it—not because it sounded nice.
The Moment Motivation Shifted
One of those moments happened while I was driving home listening to Mel Robbins.
I had started her podcast from the beginning. Early on, there was an episode about reimagining your future. She had a business creator on, and they talked about exploring what you’re naturally good at, what lights you up, and what the “next right step” might look like.
Nothing dramatic. Just honest questions.
A few days later, another episode about confidence landed in a way I can still feel. Confidence comes from taking action, not the other way around.
And somewhere in those early episodes—I don’t remember which one—I heard a line that hit hard:
“Why not you?”
I felt that in my chest. It wasn’t some dramatic movie moment. It was just a simple question that connected all the small things I’d been noticing for years. All the tiny shifts stacking into one clear thought:
I just have to start. The rest will come.
That moment pushed me toward creating The Held Edge.
Not motivation. Not confidence.
Just honesty.
What Motivation Actually Is
Motivation isn’t a feeling that shows up first. It usually comes after you start—like turning the key before the engine can move.
Sometimes motivation does hit—a spark, a moment, a good week or two where everything feels lighter. That’s how my blog started. Something clicked, and I made a decision to move forward. Those moments matter. But they don’t carry you long-term. What lasts is the action you take after the spark fades.
When you take even a small action, your brain releases dopamine—the chemical that says, “Okay, this feels doable.” But when your nervous system is overwhelmed, burned out, or depressed, that spark gets muted. You don’t feel the reward. You don’t feel anything.
That’s where my depression kicks in. Sometimes I need a day or two of grace. But if I stay there too long, everything sinks. Stillness becomes a shutdown. And the longer I wait for motivation, the heavier it gets.
For me, “action before motivation” isn’t inspiration.
It’s survival.
Why Perfectionism Makes It Worse
There’s another part of this: perfectionism.
My perfectionism comes from fear—fear of being judged or dismissed. If I can make something perfect, then no one can criticize it. That’s the lie I tell myself.
Perfection is often fear in disguise.
I’ve spent way too long adjusting the spacing on a graphic or rewriting a sentence because I’m scared to move forward. And I’ve almost not posted something simply because I missed the time of day I usually share.
Perfectionism convinces you that if it isn’t perfect, it isn’t worth doing. But really, it steals your momentum.
I’ve had to learn to say,
“This is fear talking. Get the thing out.
It doesn’t have to be perfect to matter.”
Your Why Matters
Part of motivation is knowing what you’re moving toward.
My original “why” was my kids.
I want better for them.
I want to break cycles, not repeat them.
But I’m also learning that my “why” can’t only be them.
Someday they’ll grow up and live their own lives.
I want to be mentally and physically healthy enough to enjoy my life too. I want to travel, experience things, and not be limited by preventable problems—whether that’s physical health or financial stability. Prevention matters to me, even when I struggle to execute it.
My kids started my why.
But I’m becoming part of it too.
Five Things That Help When Motivation Is Gone
1. Start smaller than feels necessary.
Get up off the couch. Turn off the TV. Write one sentence. Check one email.
Take a walk around the block.
Small steps tell your brain, “This is safe.”
2. Anchor your actions to care.
Drink water. Eat something real. Step outside.
These small things steady me enough to take the next step.
3. Keep discipline gentle.
“I’ll try for five minutes” works better for me than pushing hard.
Sometimes I set a timer and surprise myself with how much I can get done.
It feels like a small game I play with my brain, and it works. I usually want to keep going.
This even works with my daughter—I’ll set a timer for her to clean her room, and twenty minutes later she’s still going.
4. Create visual proof of progress.
Track the fact that you showed up.
Even one line—“I did the dishes” or “I did the laundry”—reminds you that you can and you did.
5. Rest without disappearing.
When depression hits, I give myself a day or two.
But I also set a boundary:
“I can pause, but I can’t check out completely.”
Gentle Momentum: How Small Steps Keep You Going
Gentle momentum is how I live now.
Small steps. Honest effort. No drama.
It’s not glamorous, but it’s real.
It’s how I rebuild after setbacks.
It’s how I keep going when motivation is nowhere to be found.
One Small Step
You don’t have to do everything today.
Pick one thing.
That’s how momentum starts.
