I miss the first days of school.
The new outfits laid out the night before. The excitement I could feel radiating off my boys before the sun even came up. Being a mom to little kids instead of a mom to grown men. There was a kind of anticipation in those mornings I haven’t felt in years, the same anticipation I remember from my own first days of school, decades ago. New shoes. New notebooks. A blank slate you could feel in your chest.
Here’s the thing about September: it acts like a reset button, even though nothing actually resets.
We treat January like the fresh start. New goals, new planners, new versions of ourselves we swear we’ll become. But by the time September rolls around, I find myself doing the same thing all over again, usually with a pumpkin spice chai latte in hand (yes, I know, it’s always too soon, and I don’t care).
September is when I stop and ask myself:
- What have I actually accomplished this year?
- What’s still sitting on the list?
- What’s realistic to finish?
- What’s getting in my way?
- What’s the one thing that, if I did it, I’d be genuinely proud of myself?
This year, my list looked like this:
- Write a new book: outlined, not written.
- Get my hormones in order: done.
- Build a corporate program: done, and I’m lit up about it.
- Speak more: started strong, lost steam.
- Create a group for women: done, and I’m so glad I did.
- Deepen my relationship with my boys: in progress, and I love it.
- Go another layer with my husband: in progress. Not always easy. Worth it.
- Take my mom to Hungary, back to our roots: done.
- Have fun with my dad: done.
- Get closer to my sister: done.
Look at that list and one thing stands out immediately: the book.
I have an outline and not much else. And when I sit with why, the truth isn’t flattering. I tell myself it feels hard. That no one needs another book from me. That it’s not worth the effort. But none of that is really it, because if it truly didn’t matter, I would have taken it off the list months ago. I haven’t.
So here’s what’s actually true: I want to write it. I don’t want it enough to give up something else for it. Not my time. Not my creative energy. Not the thinking-it-through it would take to actually start. I could tell you all the reasons it should matter, more corporate visibility, more credibility, another tool in my arsenal. But if those reasons mattered enough, I’d already be writing.
That’s the difference between a should and a want. A should sits on the list and makes you feel guilty. A want gets your time even when you don’t have any to spare.
Compare that to a leadership training program I’m building right now, a partnership to create curriculum and train the trainers. It landed in my lap a few months ago, and from the first conversation, I felt it. I’ve taken meetings. I’ve given it my creative energy. I’ve made room for it in a calendar that had no room. Nobody had to convince me. I convinced myself, immediately, without trying.
That’s motivation. And you can’t fake it.
You can should yourself into starting something. You cannot should yourself into finishing it.
Maybe that’s the real lesson of September. Not the reset. Not the latte. It’s the chance to lay your goals out the night before, the way I used to lay out those first-day outfits and ask yourself honestly which ones you’re actually excited to wear.
Much love,
Gretchen
