Confusion Isn't About Knowing Where to Start, It’s a Symptom of Not Starting.
It’s mid February and I haven’t published anything in 2026 so far.
Not because I don’t know what to write about. Not because I lack ideas. Not because the business isn’t there.
Because I’ve fallen into a familiar trap: needing to chart the course before setting sail.
But if life has taught me anything, it’s taught me that things rarely go to plan.
And life has been complex.
A house move. A rebrand. A baby. It’s all been happening all at once. And I began to think that if I could optimise my approach, I could go some way to making the writing feel effortless when I finally got back to it.
Except here’s what actually happened: my remaining time became saturated by thinking about the doing rather than doing it. And the more I planned, the bigger the task felt, and the more confused I became about where to start.
And that confusion? It felt so legitimate. So reasonable. It even has a weird sense of nobility about getting started in the ‘right’ way.
But my confusion wasn’t about where to start. It was the symptom of not starting.
You can’t be an explorer with out exploring, you can’t be a designer without designing, you can’t be an inventor without inventing.
The adjective requires the action.
What words do you use to describe yourself? Writer who doesn’t write? Leader who doesn’t lead? Entrepreneur who never ships?
You’re not the thing if you don’t do the thing.
The Planning Trap Looks Like Progress
A few months ago, I wrote an article diagnosing this exact trap. I called it out clearly, with the confidence of someone who understood the pattern.
Then I walked straight into it anyway.
Planning feels safe. Planning feels like you’re doing something. Planning lets you believe you’re getting closer to launch without risking anything - not your ego, not your reputation, not the possibility that what you create might not work.
It’s why so many of us get stuck in this phase.
And look, I’m not saying ‘don’t plan’. You wouldn’t take a holiday without checking flight times, the weather forecast, etc. But you couldn’t claim to love travelling if you never go anywhere.
I’ve spent the last seven weeks raising new tent-poles to support the canopy of life. My son is now six and a half months old. We’ve moved house. I’ve been present for my family in ways that matter deeply.
Those things are real. Important. Non-negotiable.
But I also stopped working. And confusion rushed in to fill the space it created.
I don’t feel guilty about it. I think we rarely have the capacity to manage multiple big projects simultaneously, a house move, a six-month-old son, and running a business just didn’t all fit. Hats off to those who can make it work - you should come on the podcast and tell me how it’s done.
But I did experience a sense of anxiety about where to re-start from. Should I rebuild the ecosystem first? Redesign the offer? Map out the next six months? Plan the community I’ve been thinking about?
The more questions I asked, the heavier the confusion became.
The Mirror I Needed
So I started with who (not with why) and talked it through with a friend who reflected back some Unremarkable truths I needed to remember:
“You don’t have a capability problem. You have a consistency problem combined with new-parent reality.
The business is there. The offer is solid. The positioning works. The proof is in your own results when you actually show up consistently.
But here’s the harder truth: you can’t serve two masters. Right now you’re trying to be present for your son AND build momentum AND maintain confidence AND not feel desperate about closing deals.
Something has to give. And what should give is the outcome obsession.”
That conversation was the turning point. Not because it gave me a new strategy, but because it named what I already knew: I wasn’t stuck because I lacked clarity. I was stuck because I’d stopped moving.
Crucially, I remembered I’d already been walking a path: I wasn’t about to take my first step, I didn’t need to feel unsteady, I was simply going to take the next one (and I’d quickly rediscover my cadence). So I set myself easy milestones to help me take action and mark my progress:
Return to what already works. Re-read the ‘50k Question’ article - I know the path, I just need to walk it again. The answers aren’t new, they’re just waiting to be practised.
Reclaim my starter cadence. Monday: write one article. Tuesday: one offer post. Wednesday: publish. That’s it. Not 27 things. Three. Simple enough to sustain with a six-month-old.
Make one clear ask every day for 30 days. My own challenge from the article. Time to live it, not just write about it.
Schedule five conversations this week. Past clients or people who engaged with my articles. Not to sell. To discover: “What’s actually needed here?” Contact creates clarity.
Stop measuring success in deals closed. Measure by: Did I practise today? Did I serve the work? Did I invite someone to the conversation? Those are the metrics that compound.
You Already Know Where to Start
Here’s the uncomfortable truth I had to face: I knew exactly where to start.
I always have.
The same place it always is: write one article. Publish it. Move forward.
But I was deep into a fortress of legitimate reasons not to start there. And as momentum stalled, it became easier and easier to get stuck pontificating on structures that need rebuilding, platforms that need organising, and offers needing refining.
All valid. All reasonable.
All completely beside the point.
Because none of those things actually stop me from writing. I stop me from writing when I spend my limited time, my constraint, on things that I’ve decided (albeit temporarily) matter more than the practice itself.
That’s when I stopped serving the work, and the confusion set in.
Confusion is what happens when you know what to do but don’t want to do it.
It’s the mind’s way of protecting you from the vulnerability of creating something that might not work. From making contact with the market and discovering that maybe no one cares. From risking another lost opportunity after you’ve already lost several.
Confusion feels like a problem to solve. But it might actually be signal that you’re avoiding the work.
I wonder what pressures you’ve wrapped in confusion, or decisions you’ve delayed because really you’re afraid of the mirror it might hold up?
The Ship You Can’t Steer
I’ve written before about the truth that you can’t steer a ship that isn’t moving.
You can plan the perfect route. Study the charts. Wait for ideal conditions. But until you actually push off from the dock and start moving, you have no idea what the water will actually demand of you.
The same is true for any creative work.
You can’t edit a blank page. You can’t refine an offer you haven’t articulated. You can’t discover what wants to happen through you if you never give it space to emerge.
The confusion I was feeling wasn’t about where to start. It was about the gap between what I knew I should do and what I was actually doing.
And the only way to close that gap is to start moving.
Not perfectly. Not with the whole journey mapped. Not when everything feels ready.
Just... start.
What Actually Works
Over the last eighteen months, I’ve built an audience of over 12,000 people and I’ve replaced my income.
None of that happened because I had perfect systems or flawless strategy.
It happened because I created consistently. Made contact with the market. Invited people into conversation. Served the work instead of worshipping outcomes.
The moment I stopped doing those things - even for legitimate reasons like having a new baby and moving house - the confusion crept back in.
Not because the business stopped working.
But because I stopped practising.
And when you stop practising, your brain starts trying to think its way back to confidence. It convinces you that if you just plan a bit more, structure a bit better, get everything aligned first, then you’ll feel ready.
But confidence doesn’t come from planning.
Confidence comes from doing.
It comes from publishing the imperfect article. Sending the uncertain invitation. Having the conversation you don’t feel ready for. Making contact when you’re not sure what will happen next.
The confusion starts to dissolve the moment you take action. Not because the action answered every question, but because action reveals what actually matters versus what your mind invented to keep you safe.
Action creates contact.
Contact creates friction.
Friction creates learning.
It’s the fulcrum of everything else.
This is what I call Action in The PEACE Practice.
And here’s what I know from lived experience: momentum reveals what planning obscures. The confusion lifts not because the path becomes clear, but because you’re finally in conversation with reality instead of wrestling with your mind’s protective stories about why now isn’t the time.
The Practice Starts Monday
So here’s what I’m re-committing to: a weekly starter cadence that feels doable with a six-month-old.
One article every Monday. One offer post every Tuesday. Publish and move forward.
Not because I’ve figured everything out. Not because the structure is perfect. Not because I feel completely ready.
But because I know (from lived experience, from watching this pattern repeat) that momentum comes from movement, not planning.
Consistent contact. Regular invitation. Showing up weekly to serve the work.
That’s not glamorous. It’s not a breakthrough strategy. It’s not what the quick-fix merchants and system sellers are promising.
But I promise you, it is the secret sauce that everyone’s looking for, but everyone overlooks, and it’s the only thing that’s ever actually worked for me.
Your Invitation
If you’re feeling confused about where to start, on your business, your writing, your next move, I want you to consider something:
What if the confusion isn’t the problem? What if it’s just the signal that you already know what to do, but you’re not doing it yet?
What’s the one thing you could do this week that would create momentum? Not the perfect thing. Not the complete thing. Not the thing that solves everything.
Just the one next thing that moves you forward.
For me, it’s this article.
For you, it might be sending that email. Making that call. Publishing that post. Booking that session.
Whatever it is, I promise you this: the confusion will start to lift the moment you start moving.
You can’t steer a ship that isn’t moving.
So push off from the dock.
And see what the water actually asks of you.
I’m returning to weekly practice. If you want to build differently - with depth over reach, practice over performance, and patience over hustle - subscribe and join the journey. Or if you’re ready for 1:1 work, drop me a message and let’s talk about The Authority Lab.