BECOMING YOUR OWN WAY | PART ONE

When the First Step Feels Like the Hardest

BecomingYourOwnWayPt1

When I know what needs to happen, getting started feels impossible.

At 4:38 on a Thursday afternoon, I was standing in the kitchen holding a sock.

Just one.

I had no idea where the other one was.

I wasn't entirely sure why I was holding this one.

Oh. Right.

Laundry.

I'd come home with a plan: start the laundry, finish a job application, clean the kitchen, and answer an email from my college advisor.

Four things.

I'd even made a color-coded list.

At the top, in bright green ink, I'd written:

GET MY LIFE TOGETHER.

A little ambitious for a Thursday.

My phone buzzed.

Mom: Did you finish the application?

I glanced at my laptop.

The application had been open since Tuesday.

I'd gotten through my name and address. Then came Previous Work Experience.

I'd volunteered at an animal shelter. Did that count? How should I describe it?

I'd looked up examples, watched a résumé video, and somehow ended up cleaning my desk.

The desk looked fantastic.

The application was still unfinished.

I typed back:

Working on it.

I wanted that job. I wanted my own money, a little independence, maybe even a car someday.

I could picture all of it.

I just couldn't seem to get through the application.

Why can't I just do this?

I looked down.

Still holding the sock.

Perfect.

The Things Nobody Sees

People had always told me I was capable.

You have so much potential.

You just need to apply yourself.

Try being more organized.

But I was organized at the animal shelter.

I remembered which dogs needed medication, which ones were nervous around strangers, and which one would steal your lunch if you blinked.

I noticed things other people missed.

My supervisor trusted me.

So why could I handle all of that but struggle to finish an application or start my laundry?

I was beginning to wonder whether there was something wrong with me.

A Different Question

The next afternoon, I stopped by the shelter to return a leash I'd accidentally brought home.

My supervisor, Mara, was surrounded by boxes.

"Perfect timing. Can you put these supplies away?"

I looked at the food, towels, and cleaning products.

"Where do I start?"

"Food in storage, towels on the shelves, cleaning supplies in the cabinet."

I stood there.

Mara glanced up.

"Too much at once?"

I laughed. "A little."

"Okay. Towels first. That box."

I picked it up.

Ten minutes later, everything was put away.

Done.

I stared at the empty floor.

"How come I can do all this here, but at home I can't even start my laundry?"

Mara shrugged gently.

"What feels different?"

I thought about it.

Here, she'd pointed to one box.

I knew where the towels belonged.

When I finished, I knew what came next.

At home, my list just reminded me of everything I hadn't done.

"I guess I know where to start here," I said.

Mara nodded.

"That's worth knowing."

She went back to work.

No lecture.

No speech about responsibility.

Just something to think about.

And I did.

All the way home.

What I Hadn't Noticed

I'd heard the term executive functioning before.

It describes skills that help us plan, organize, start tasks, manage attention, remember steps, and follow through.

I'd never really connected it to my own afternoons.

At the shelter, the task had a clear beginning. The supplies had a place. Someone was there if I needed clarification.

At home, I had to figure out all those things myself.

I wasn't a different person in those two places.

The conditions were different.

Maybe I didn't need another lecture about trying harder.

Maybe I needed to understand what helped me begin.

The Sock, Again

That evening, I looked at my list.

GET MY LIFE TOGETHER.

I crossed it out.

Underneath, I wrote:

What first?

Laundry.

Just laundry.

I carried the basket to the washing machine.

Then stopped.

Where was the detergent?

Seriously?

I found it, started the washer, and set a reminder on my phone.

The application still needed attention.

So did the email.

I hadn't figured out my entire life.

But I'd noticed something.

A clear first step helped me at the shelter.

A reminder might help me at home.

Maybe understanding what worked for me was a better place to begin than wondering what was wrong with me.

My phone buzzed.

Laundry finished.

"Oh. Right."

I went to move it to the dryer.

This time, I remembered.

🌱 Pause Where You Are

Think about something you've been having trouble starting.

You don't need to solve it right now. Just notice:

  • Which part feels hardest: knowing where to begin, remembering the steps, making decisions, or something else?
  • Where does getting started feel easier? What's different there?
  • What support could make your first step clearer?

You don't need every answer today.

Sometimes noticing one pattern is enough.

Something to Carry With You

The next time you catch yourself thinking, Why can't I just do this? try asking:

What would make the first step clearer?

Maybe it's one written instruction, a reminder, or someone helping you identify where to begin.

Support doesn't take away your independence.

Learning what works for you can help you build it.

Becoming Continues

I've begun to notice that I function differently in different situations.

Now I'm wondering what happens when the way I'm expected to do something doesn't match the way I work best.

Next in Becoming Your Own Way

02 | Discovering What Works for Me

When the usual way isn't necessarily my way.

→ Continue to Story Two

← Return to the Becoming Your Own Way Collection

Before You Go

Maybe you recognized a pattern. Maybe you remembered a place where things feel easier. Maybe you simply smiled at the sock.

That's enough.

You don't have to know exactly who you're becoming to begin understanding how you work.

Becoming Your Own Way is an original Still Point Clarity collection created by Cindy Carden.

© 2026 Cindy Carden. All rights reserved.