It is Not the Mountain We Conquer But Ourselves

A few weeks ago, I found an old notebook where I’d scribbled down a list of ideas: dreams, really.

Passion projects I once wanted to start.
Things I was genuinely excited about.
But page after page was full of things I never followed through on.

Not because I stopped caring.
But because I kept telling myself I wasn’t ready.
That I needed to learn more, be more, prepare more.

That moment hit me hard. Because for the first time, I saw it clearly:
It wasn’t time, money, or other people that were stopping me. It was me.

I had been waiting for some imaginary green light to begin.
And in doing so, I was delaying my own joy.

I don’t know when exactly I started putting myself on hold.

Maybe it was when I thought I had to "deserve" rest.
Or when I convinced myself that joy came after everything else was done.
Or when dreams quietly became “distractions,” tucked away for a more “realistic” version of me.

But somewhere along the way, I built walls.
Invisible ones, made of rules I never questioned:
“Not now.”
“Not good enough yet.”
“Later, when you’ve earned it.”

It was hurtful to learn that I was stopping myself - my own hesitation, my own fear, my own delay.

So recently, I’ve started asking myself softer questions:
What if it’s okay to feel good today?
What if I don’t need a reason to take a break?
What if this version of me: imperfect, unfinished is already allowed to take up space?

I’m learning that I don’t have to wait for permission.
To rest. To play. To begin again.
To dream out loud, even if it’s messy and no one claps right away.

I am realising that getting out of my own way doesn’t mean doing everything perfectly.
It means showing up even when it’s scary.
Letting go of the guilt that tags along with rest.
Laughing out loud when the moment is beautiful.

I am learning it’s not always the world that holds me back. Sometimes, it’s just me: overthinking, second-guessing, waiting for the perfect moment. But lately, I’ve been trying to notice those moments when I can step aside and let something small and true move forward.

I’m learning to give myself that space. And now, more consciously than ever, I’m giving myself permission: to rest, to try, to begin again. And maybe this time, those ideas I scribbled back in my old notebook might come alive not because I’m finally ‘ready,’ but because I’ve finally stopped standing in my own way.