The island is quiet. The uncomfortable quiet where it feels like the very air is waiting, waiting, waiting. For what, one isn’t particularly sure.

She stands at the edge of the beach that is as devoid of life as the rest of the island, staring across the water. The mainland. Within eyesight. Maybe half a mile away. A tiring swim, but by no means an impossible one. 

So often, for those who have something they want to build (a business, a book, a family, a trained service dog) life can feel like that beach. The goal is right there; within sight, but there’s too much going on in life for the swim to feel safe, right now. So the decision is made, “I’ll wait until life calms down.” And you’re left on that silent island, where even the air is waiting.

Here’s the thing; there’s a valid reason you’re holding back. Personally, it’s very easy to look around at others who are building what I want to and feel like I’m a high school athlete that somehow got dropped in the Olympics. Yeah, I may be good at what I do, but these people are far and away better than I am. Who thought this was a good idea? If I try, I’m just going to embarrass myself and burn all potential credibility the next time I say I’m building something.

But. Here’s the scary truth: nobody has had a perfect square one to start from. They just start. And yeah, that sounds cliche, but here’s the reason that can be so scary for me to look at straight on: it means my reason for not starting isn’t good enough. The thing I could hide behind is revealed to be paper thin. Either I start, or I don’t. Moreover, that limitation being so obvious? That’s more advantage than disadvantage. It means I know the crazy I should expect. I know how to work with the tired, with the high-seizure days, the POTS flareups, with the punky dog or limited time, or whatever else I could point to as a reason to stay on that island, waiting, waiting, waiting. I’ve already built around the crazy that may blindside someone else, because I’ve had no choice but to live with it. This new thing I’m building? Not all that different.

Additional good news for those looking to get off that island? 

“There’s nothing new under the sun.”

While that comes across as more than a little depressing in Ecclesiastes, it also means there’s someone out there who has built this boat, before.

They’ve written a book
They’ve built a business
They’ve grown a family
They’ve trained the dog
They’ve done it with limited time, energy, and varying abilities

How do I know? Because I’ve found those people to learn from. I’m doing it, myself. They may not be the loudest “influencer,” but they’re out there. And happy to help the next person along. And the first thing we’ll tell you? The building starts in the mess, because “calmed down” isn’t a season any of us are promised. In fact, when you’re dealing with shifting health situations, you’re more often promised a lack of that season.

Here are a couple other bits we’d tell you.

We would all like things to get to “calm” before starting, but sometimes we get to settle for “stable enough.” Ask yourself, what would a calm situation look like? When would I feel comfortable to start this project? 

• Write down the parameters. Yes, really.
• Look at them again. What is the likelihood that situation will happen?
• Start to cross off what things on your list you could likely do without.

And here’s the thing about this: the answers and how far you pare down the list are completely subjective. I might be able to pare down my “want to start a family” list far more than my “want to write a book” list. I may have more things on it than you do, or different things. It’s also worth noting that no amount of things on that list is worth feeling bad about, and there are some very valid reasons to hold off on something. As an example, “wanting to be financially stable” before you stop working to start a family or start homesteading is likely a wise choice rather than a self-imposed limitation. On the flip side of the coin, the more that remains on that list, the longer you’re likely to be on that beach.

Why do we suggest this? Because, in short, if you can’t put concrete signs on what is “stable enough,” no moment will feel stable enough, because you’re looking to do a new thing that’s out of your comfort zone. An undefined goalpost won’t, and can’t, be reached. Waiting for it to arrive will leave you stranded on that island forever.

Starting when life is crazy, admittedly, feels counterproductive. Here’s the trick of it, though. If you’re building in the crazy, the system is already stress-tested. If you build in a calm season, you may not know what you need to build into it to keep it managing when stuff hits the fan. 

• The systems I’ve built can stay afloat on the hard days because they were built embracing those days, not in fear of them.
• The stories I’m writing can keep going in the seasons of chaos where I only get a hundred words in, every week, because I’ve been writing them so long that I’ve learned how to keep the momentum going, even in those seasons.
• My family has gone through crazy seasons before, so it’s old hat to fall back into supporting each other, managing resources dynamically, and keeping things going when another one hits.

It’s scary to build in the crazy, and that’s exactly why you need to. The dream or system that doesn’t know what a hard day feels like can’t flex to meet it.

Sure, I hear you saying, that sounds good, but when I try and think of how to do that, my mind comes up with absolutely nothing, and I’m left on that beach. So what does it look like to actually start in the chaos?

• Write a hundred [bad] words; not a thousand. I referenced this, above. I used to participate in something called National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). It was the thought that in the month of November you write 50,000 words. And, I’d do it. Because I had planned and prepared and had a support system that allowed me to. But that pace didn’t hold in February, or when I was sick, postpartum, or on a deadline for another project. Sometimes, all I could do was a hundred words a week. Ten words a night before I fell asleep, exhausted. But that was ten more words on the page than there had been. That was progress. That was right, even if the words felt all wrong, and were deleted later.
• One business step each week. You hear a lot of business gurus talk about speed, and going fast, and outpacing the competition. And they have a point: if they’re doing five things to my every one, yes, they’re going to find out what works through trail-and-error five times faster.
  But I’m outpacing anyone who’s not doing anything because the time isn’t perfect. And, sometimes, that’s the victory. Because when the week is full or the energy is low, and I can’t emphasize speed, I have to emphasize doing it at all. I write the blog post in between stirring dinner (right now.) I get three crochet stitches into that order. I write the copy on my phone, nap-trapped, rather than on my computer. And, at the end of the week, the question isn’t “did I finish XYZ big project?” it’s “did this progress, even a little?” And if the answer is yes, that was a win.
• Five minutes of training, and a brain puzzle. When it comes to training a dog (especially a service dog), consistency is key. When a dog is smart, you have to keep them mentally stimulated. With a service dog, three fifteen-minute training sessions is a good baseline. When you don’t feel good, that becomes harder. When you have a lot on your plate, that becomes harder. That’s where knowing your “easy level” is immensely helpful. For me, that’s an evening walk with distractions. Sometimes a morning walk. Other times, it’s five minutes of training and then a brain puzzle. The goal is keeping the dog mentally stimulated. If that’s done, that’s a win. It doesn’t have to be pretty; it gets to be done.

Small and unsatisfying. Wrong. That’s how “starting in the mess” feels. You’re not starting on January 1st with a clean calendar that’s never been touched; you’re starting on July 23rd, because you can’t wait five more months. It’s not a fresh Monday, it’s a Tuesday evening, a Thursday afternoon. But the important part is that it’s started. Progress has been made. And progress beats perfect. Every time.

Consistency isn’t showing up the same every day of the week. It’s not unshakable. It’s simply showing up. And the crazy thing is, showing up, even partially, even if it’s a mess, accumulates. Yes, even for people whose brains, like mine, struggle to do the “brainless habit,” thing. There’s a system I’ve been trying to put into practice for over a month and a half. It’s still sometimes a struggle – this morning it was a struggle – but showing up consistently, even imperfectly, does make it easier on the harder days. One imperfect start lowers the barrier to entry of the next one.

Standing on that beach, each of us has a choice. The fins aren’t likely to disperse just because we want them to. Shore is within sight. There is nothing for you or I on this island. And, in all reality, the time will pass regardless of what we do. So how do you start to move? To get off the island? The answer, like starting in the mess, feels small and unsatisfying. 

What’s the most realistic version of starting that I could do today, in this mess, with what I actually have?

• Start an outline for your story.
• Get out of the house for a five minute walk in the park (and no, the ride there being longer than the actual walk isn’t any reason not to go.)
• Start looking into what a service dog may mean
• Add one more chore to your day, this week.
• Write out your list of services. Maybe make it pretty, maybe don’t.

It may feel wrong. Let it. You’re doing a new thing; it’s not going to be comfortable. The good news is that trees that grow in a state of mild drought it can better cope with that situation down the line. The ones grown in more ideal circumstances have a harder time. True science!

The other good news is that there are, as I mentioned earlier, people who have done this, before. People who have built in the midst of crazy, who know what it’s like to shift pace mid-race or stop to catch your breath. People who have learned some of the tips and tricks to making this work. Come and join us in The Able Life Community to surround yourself with these people, to spur each other on, to show up when life happens; to build in the crazy.