Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.”
- George Bernard Shaw

The sky over Nottingham pressed low and heavy, the kind of gray that you feel in your bones.

A light rain fell over the town square as six drunk Santas in costume stumbled across the cobblestones, heading to a holiday party, presumably.

That evening, I called a Senior Partner who ran the West Coast to tell her I was leaving BCG. She couldn’t believe it, convinced I was burned out and just needed a break.

I appreciated her concern.

The truth was, I’d been in therapy for years, trying to reconcile the weight of a life that looked right on paper with the internal reality that it wasn’t, and I knew this decision was almost certainly the best thing for me.

She wasn’t wrong. She was just looking through a different lens, with only part of the picture.

To her, the move looked reckless.
To me, it finally felt honest. The moment I stopped mistaking pressure for purpose.

A few days later, back in the U.S., I sat in the office of another partner I respected deeply.

When I told him I was joining a six-person start-up, the color drained from his face.
He looked panicked, genuinely alarmed that the start-up’s entire monthly revenue was less than his travel expenses for the previous week. (tbh, I took a big *gulp* when he told me that and almost rethought everything.)

He reminded me of how many people would give anything for that seat.

And he was right.
It was a good place, filled with smart people.
I was on a fantastic trajectory.
But something in me needed to shift.

Even without a perfect answer, the cost of staying had grown heavier than the risk of leaving.

So I left.

I didn’t leave because I was fearless.
I left because I was tired of being stuck between knowing and doing.
Sometimes, what looks unstable to others is the only thing that steadies you once you try it.

That night in Nottingham, after I got off the phone, the weight finally lifted.
It wasn’t just rest, it was the deepest sleep of my life.
My body surrendered to the exhaustion it had been fighting for months, maybe years, and accepted that it was over. That whatever came next would at least be mine to build.
I woke up re-energized in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

You probably know that kind of exhaustion. The one that comes not from overwork, but from staying in something you’ve already outgrown.

Change often looks chaotic from the outside and calm from the inside when it’s finally aligned.
I’d spent years mistaking deliberation for progress.
But reflection without movement just circles the same stone.

Readiness never comes first.
You move first.
Then, somehow, readiness follows.

At the start-up, nothing was perfect.
But perfection is just fear wearing a nice suit.

My top-tier consulting lifestyle was quickly humbled by economy travel and Holiday Inns across the country, often solo, as I tried to find growth for the start-up and in the process, grow myself.

I had to learn my worth without the big-company badge.
I had to lead without the name, the safety net, or the scaffolding I’d always leaned against.
And that was the point.

We stumbled, laughed, built something real, and learned how much lighter life feels when you’re fully engaged in creating and building.

I wish I had made the jump sooner, but take peace that everything happens when it’s meant to.

Maybe your version of that isn’t a new job.
Maybe it’s finally saying the thing you’ve avoided saying, or trying the thing that’s been waiting on the shelf.

Looking back, I realize how many mentors taught me to plan perfectly before acting.
They weren’t wrong, it’s just that sometimes the plan becomes the cage.

I think about that whenever I hear someone say,
“I’m not happy with my job, I just don’t know what I’d do next.”
Or,
“I think I’d like to start a company, I just don’t have the big idea yet.”

I get it. I’ve been there.
For years, I carried those same questions until they grew heavier than the work itself.

But clarity comes from movement.
The job, the idea, the relationships, the version of yourself you’re trying to find, they only take shape once you start.

You can’t lift off if you never push away from the ground.

I still wrestle with that advice because life is rarely simple.
There are families, mortgages, and competing priorities.
And I’ve watched friends who stayed, who kept their heads down, build real success, with some even retiring early.

My decision was the right decision for who I was then, and that’s enough.
We each have our own version of balance to find.

If you’re content, that’s beautiful.
If you’re not, do something.
Even a small shift changes more than you think.

I don’t have the blueprint, only the memory of what it felt like to finally move.
This isn’t about hustle but about agency.
The quiet power of movement, even when it’s messy.

The smallest lift starts a current.
That current builds momentum.
Momentum builds energy. The kind that carries you through uncertainty and lets you breathe a little easier.

Naturally, this isn’t only about changing jobs or starting companies.
The same truth applies everywhere—in relationships that have gone quiet, in health goals put off, in creative projects sitting half-finished.
Energy returns when we engage.
Clarity grows from participation, not distance.
Whatever the arena, stillness rarely gives us the answers.
Movement does.

Change doesn’t wait for certainty. It rewards movement with meaning.
Energy doesn’t just carry us forward; it frees us from waiting.

We don’t find ourselves by waiting.

We find ourselves reborn the moment we move in any part of life that’s gone still.
The moment the weight leaves the ground, and you realize you’re already moving.

Until next Sunday,
Eric

P.S. If someone you care about has been standing still for too long, pass this to them. Sometimes the smallest nudge is all it takes to start moving again.

Modern psychology shows that motion isn’t the reward for clarity; it’s the source of it. The brain builds belief after the body moves.