I Don’t Have a Big Plan, I’m Just Moving

I don’t have a five-year plan.
I barely have a plan for next week, and for the longest time, that bothered me more than I like to admit.

We’re told that direction equals certainty, that knowing exactly where you’re headed is a prerequisite for starting. So when I couldn’t answer questions about where I see myself in a few years, I assumed something was wrong. That I was late, or behind, or just not trying hard enough to figure things out.

But most of my confusion didn’t come from a lack of options. It came from standing still for too long, waiting to feel ready.

I treated motivation like a signal, something that would arrive and tell me it was finally time to begin. It rarely did. What did show up was restlessness. A quiet urge to do something, anything, without overanalyzing whether it would matter in the long run.

So I started paying attention to movement instead of meaning.

I’ve always been good at starting things. I have half-written notes, abandoned folders, and ideas that made sense only in a specific mood on a specific day. New ideas feel clean and full of possibility, but somewhere between starting and continuing, I usually drift away. Not because I stop caring, but because something newer shows up and demands my attention.

Over time, that adds up. Not dramatically, just enough to leave me feeling like a lot of my thinking passes through without leaving a mark.

Write on Medium
This is me trying to change that, gently.

Not by forcing discipline or setting rules for myself, but by writing things down before they disappear. By documenting instead of declaring. By letting the act of showing up be enough, without asking where it’s all going.

I’m not starting a challenge.
I’m not committing to a streak.
I’m not promising consistency.

I’m choosing momentum over hesitation, even when it feels a little aimless. I don’t trust motivation to carry me anymore, so I’m acting without waiting for it.

There’s something freeing about admitting that you don’t know where something leads. It takes the pressure off needing every step to justify itself. Some things are worth doing simply because they keep you moving, because they teach you something in the process, even if that lesson only becomes clear later.

Maybe this turns into a habit.
Maybe it doesn’t.

Maybe this space becomes a place where ideas grow.
Or maybe it just becomes a record of who I was while figuring things out.

Either way, I don’t want to keep waiting for clarity to arrive before I begin. I’d rather let clarity catch up to me while I’m already in motion.

For now, this is enough.
Not a plan. Just a refusal to keep disappearing.