This is not an essay about motivation or productivity. It's about survival and what it means to keep going when your best barely exists. When you feel like you barely want to exist.
"Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly."
I've had this saying in my head for a long time. I can't even remember where I first heard it. Today I googled it and learned it's often attributed to G.K. Chesterton.
The original idea is simple; take action and start. It's better to begin imperfectly than to never begin at all out of fear.
That said, this is not quite the context I remember hearing it in.
I may not recall where I first came across the phrase, but I vividly remember the mindset I was in at the time. I was, as Anne of Green Gables would say, "in the depths of despair." I was romantically involved with my depression. It owned me. I felt utterly worthless and useless. Even getting out of bed or taking a shower felt like an overwhelming task.
Most days, I did only what was absolutely necessary and then retreated back into bed. Hours of my life disappeared into doom scrolling. It was during this time that this phrase found me.
The context was not productivity or ambition. It was survival.
The question wasn't how do I succeed but how do I keep going?
Anything worth doing WAS worth doing poorly.
If all I could manage was using a face wipe instead of taking a full shower, that was good enough. If I brushed my teeth for twenty seconds instead of two minutes, that counted. It was better to have a small, imperfect achievement than to do nothing at all.
I don't know whether I found this phrase and assigned my own meaning to it during that difficult period, or whether it was meant to be interpreted this way. What I do know is that it stayed with me.
Even today, when I don't feel like doing something I know I should, I return to it.
This phrase helped me through one of the most trying periods of my life. A face wipe turned into a washcloth, which eventually turned into a full shower. It may not have happened quickly but the point is it happened. Those small wins helped me begin to find my worth again. It helped quiet the voices in my head that kept me trapped in a dark place.
I still hear those voices sometimes, but they are not as loud as they once were. They do not have full control over me anymore. Yes there are moments when I am tired and they win a battle. Overall I am winning the war.
I am still learning how much grace I have withheld from myself. For a long time, I defaulted to the belief that something must be wrong with me, I am weak, I lack self-control. It has been a journey replacing this try harder mentality with I deserve to have compassion for myself.
Being kind to yourself is not a sign of weakness. I have become stronger and more capable since I began treating myself with compassion. I still struggle to treat myself with respect, but the small wins matter. I cannot undo thirty-plus years of self-criticism overnight. The relationship I have with myself was build over decades, and changing it will take time.
Even showing up imperfectly and acknowledging when I am being hard on myself is a step in the right direction. I have years of shaky foundation to repair before something beautiful can stand securely.
We are not broken just because things feel hard. It is okay to go through periods where we shut down. All it takes to return to ourselves is small steps. A seed does not become a flower overnight. Sometimes we need small amounts of water and some sunshine before we can emerge from the darkness of the soil.
We just need to start.
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