Last week I asked, would she do this? This week, I realized knowing the answer was not the hard part. Starting was.
I could picture her clearly. Rested. Grounded. Doing things imperfectly. And still, I would sit there not moving, because the gap between where I actually was and where she already was felt too wide to cross.
That is the part people rarely warn us about. We get clear on who we want to become, and then the size of the gap becomes the reason we do nothing at all.
I used to think that meant something was wrong with me. That I was lazy, or inconsistent, or just not disciplined enough. But the more I paid attention, especially in postpartum, the more I saw that it was not really about discipline. It was about resistance.
When a change feels too big, our brain treats it like a threat. It doesn’t pause to ask whether the change is good for us. It only notices that it’s unfamiliar, and unfamiliar usually means work. That’s why “becoming her” can feel inspiring one minute and completely paralyzing the next. Becoming her all at once is too much. But one small thing? That’s different.
One glass of water paired with my morning supplement. One minute of movement, usually a YouTube video or a plain stretch, while my baby was still asleep. One real meal sitting down instead of standing at the kitchen counter. One small action that matched the woman I wanted to become, even if the rest of the day was messy.
That is how I started. Not with the full routine. Not with a perfect version of motherhood. Just one thing she would do. And then another. And then another.
Last week, I asked you to picture her and let her decide what you’d do. But I want to be clear about something, because I got this wrong for a while too. Doing what she’d do doesn’t mean copying her exactly, all at once.
She might stretch for twenty minutes. I could barely do one. She might read for an hour. Some days I had one page. That doesn’t mean I’m doing a smaller, sadder version of her. It means I’m doing her, just earlier. She’s not stretching for twenty minutes because she’s stronger than me. She’s stretching for twenty minutes because she’s had two hundred days of practice. I’m on day one of that same road. Same direction, same choice, just small enough to survive my worst days.
She’s not stretching for twenty minutes because she’s stronger than me. She’s stretching for twenty minutes because she’s had two hundred days of practice.
And that first small thing does something worth noticing. It makes the rest of the day feel a little less heavy. Not easy. Just lighter. More possible. You barely register it happening in the moment, but do it enough mornings in a row, and it stops being a choice you have to talk yourself into. It just becomes the thing you do now.
That’s what I wish someone had told me sooner. You don’t start from some perfect future version of yourself, the one who has it all figured out. You start from exactly where you are right now. On the tired days. On the days the baby won’t settle. On the days your own thoughts feel scattered before you’ve even had coffee.
Not where the ideal mom in your head lives. Not where the woman on your feed seems to live, with her calm mornings and matching sets. Where you actually are.
So if you are trying to become her, do not wait for the big moment. Do not wait until you feel ready. Do not wait until you have more time, more energy, or more clarity. Pick the smallest possible version of the thing. So small it almost feels too simple to count. Then do that. And do it again tomorrow.
That is how becoming her actually works, at least for me. Not all at once. Just one small choice at a time.
I started this by asking who I wanted to become. Then why she matter enough to chase. Then whether she’d do the thing in front of me. And now I know the last piece: you don’t wait to become her. You start today, exactly where you are, with whatever small thing you can actually do.
Most days, she’s not far away. She’s just one step ahead of me.
With love,
Kristen
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