Trying to Get Organized
— a wandering reflection on chaos, self-direction, and the quiet work of showing up
I’d like to say I’m “trying to get organized,” but let’s be honest: it’s hard to find order with my phone lighting up beside me, ads screaming for attention, kids in the next room asking for food, and screens buzzing in every corner of the house like neon cicadas. The day pulls me in seven directions before I even name the first one. I’m not really sure where this morning is taking me, but I do know why.
Because I didn’t plan it.
And anything without intention drifts.
No plan, no destination, no path to follow or blaze. Just pure reaction—like a leaf in wind, but not in the poetic Taoist way… more like a receipt loose in a parking lot.
Truth is, I already know what needs to be done. We all do.
We know the chores, the goals, the dreams, the unfinished projects, the things that would make our lives smoother, quieter, stronger. But the beginning—oh, that beginning—slows us down more than anything else. Not the work. Not the learning curve. Not the lack of time.
Just the act of starting.
Why?
Fear of failing?
Fear of succeeding?
Fear of changing?
Fear that once we begin, we’ll have to keep going?
Or maybe it’s simpler: maybe staying exactly where we are—even in frustration—is more familiar than stepping into the unknown. The pain of not being where we want to be can feel strangely comfortable compared to the effort required to get there.
But I’m learning something: the starting line is always closer than it looks. And we cross it not with grand gestures, but with small, stubborn decisions in moments just like this.
We All Know What Needs to Be Done
There’s a universal truth that quietly threads through every household, every job site, every home office, every cluttered kitchen:
We know.
We already know.
We know the habits that would make us healthier.
We know the systems that would make us organized.
We know the boundaries that would protect our time.
We know the steps that would move us closer to the life we keep imagining.
And yet, something in us hesitates.
Starting is vulnerable. Beginning means confronting the gap between “where I want to be” and “where I am.” That gap can be intimidating—it holds our expectations, our insecurities, our unfinished stories, and our excuses.
Maybe we’re afraid of succeeding because success requires responsibility.
Maybe we’re afraid of failing because failure threatens our identity.
Or maybe we’re just tired—tired from life, from obligations, from a world wired to distract and overstimulate us.
But here’s the thing:
Motivation isn’t what we think it is.
It’s not a spark. It’s not a burst of inspiration. It’s not a fire from the heavens hitting you on a random Tuesday.
Motivation is motion.
It’s momentum.
It’s a side effect of doing the thing—not the cause.
Which means waiting to “feel motivated” is a trap.
Find Strength in Motivating Yourself
Motivation is fake—or at least, not what most people think it is.
People talk about motivation like it’s some mystical energy that descends from the sky, lands on your shoulder, and says, “Alright buddy, time to change your life now.” But that’s not how it works.
Motivation is a phase.
A moment.
A brief gust of energy.
It’s not the engine.
It’s the exhaust.
The real engine is commitment.
Commitment is quiet.
Commitment is unromantic.
Commitment happens on the days you’d rather do anything else.
Motivation doesn’t drive you.
You drive you.
What people call “motivation” is just the outward description of someone following through on their own commitments. It’s how others interpret your movement in contrast to their stagnation.
But the truth is: motivation is an inside job.
It’s personal.
It’s private.
It’s built in the dark, not under a spotlight.
Here’s the real secret:
You don’t need motivation.
You need reasons.
Reasons survive bad days.
Reasons survive low energy.
Reasons survive self-doubt.
Motivation whispers.
Reasons anchor.
Your reasons are the roots beneath the surface—the things that hold when the winds of life shake everything else loose.
Get clear on your reasons, then act.
Even when you don’t want to.
Even when everyone else is asleep.
Even when you’ve failed fifty times before.
It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been saying you’ll start.
It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve quit.
It doesn’t matter how often you’ve set a goal and ignored it.
Today can be the first day.
The day you stand up.
The day you choose your future self over your present comfort.
Figure out your destination—your true destination, not just the convenient one—and work backwards.
Plan Your Path—Even If It’s Messy at First
A plan doesn’t need to be perfect.
It doesn’t need to be beautiful.
It doesn’t need to be color-coded with stickers and pastel markers.
It just needs to exist.
A simple list in a notebook.
A few bullet points on a scrap of paper.
A note typed in your phone.
A thought spoken out loud to yourself as you make your morning coffee.
Plans evolve once you start walking.
You don’t need clarity to begin—beginning creates clarity.
The most powerful plans aren’t rigid.
They’re flexible, alive, responsive.
They bend without breaking.
Your plan is not a cage.
Your plan is a compass.
And once you have a compass, even the chaotic days have direction.
Look Back and Congratulate Yourself
This is where most people fail themselves: they do the work, but they never witness the work.
They show up day after day, make progress they can’t see, and then feel like they haven’t accomplished anything. The mind plays tricks like that. It’s excellent at forgetting how far we’ve come.
That’s why journaling matters.
That’s why documenting your life matters.
That’s why taking pictures—even of mundane things—matters.
You’re not just recording memories.
You’re creating a map of who you are becoming.
Write down what you feel.
Write down what you overcame.
Write down what you built today—even if it’s small.
Especially if it’s small.
Progress is made of tiny victories stacked quietly over time.
Your journal becomes the bird’s-eye view of your life—the forest above the trees, the long arc of growth that’s impossible to see from the ground.
So celebrate yourself.
You deserve congratulations for every step you’ve taken, even the shaky ones. Especially the shaky ones. Those are usually the most important.
You are doing better than you give yourself credit for.
Document Your Journey Like It Matters—Because It Does
Take more pictures.
Record your voice when a thought hits you.
Save little notes, ideas, reflections.
Give yourself a personal archive—your own private museum of becoming.
Set up folders.
Set up a server if you want to go deeper.
Build a place where your life lives that isn’t dependent on algorithms or memories alone.
You are not static.
You are evolving.
And your future self will want to see how far you’ve come.
Not with regret.
Not with shame.
But with pride.
The Hidden Gift of Getting Organized
Getting organized isn’t about Pinterest boards, minimalist desk setups, or becoming some perfect version of yourself.
It’s about peace.
It’s about clarity.
It’s about creating a life that feels intentional instead of accidental.
Being organized is a kindness you give to your future self.
It’s the quiet art of removing friction from your life.
It’s the steady practice of choosing direction over drift.
It’s the humble acknowledgment that your time matters.
You don’t organize your life to control it.
You organize it so it can breathe.
Where Do You Go From Here?
Not to perfection.
Not to some impossible standard.
Not to anyone else’s idea of success.
You go forward.
One small commitment at a time.
Close a few tabs.
Turn down the noise.
Pick one thing—one—and begin there.
The rest will follow.
Because once you start moving, even slowly, you create a rhythm.
And a rhythm becomes momentum.
And momentum becomes transformation.
Not overnight.
But inevitably.
You are already on the path.
Now keep walking.