I Didn’t Want To—But I Did It Anyway…

Let’s talk about discipline, discomfort, and doing what needs to be done!

There was a time not too long ago—honestly, just a few years back—when I found myself in a constant tug-of-war between my responsibilities and my desire to rest, retreat, and disappear for a while. I was in a place in life where everything felt like a demand. Work, family, commitments, deadlines, even my own goals—things I once prayed for—started to feel more like burdens than blessings.

Every morning felt heavier than the last. Not because something catastrophic had happened, but because life had started to feel like one long to-do list. I’d wake up with that familiar pit in my stomach. You know the one—that uneasy swirl of pressure and fatigue mixed with a low hum of “I don’t want to do this today.”

But I did.

I got up.

Not because I was inspired.

Not because I was excited.

But because I had to.

I remember one morning in particular. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, holding my head in my hands, staring at the floor like it might offer answers. I had so much to do. Phone calls to return. Emails to send. A meeting I was leading. A promise I’d made to someone I didn’t have the energy to keep. And in that moment, I genuinely wanted to vanish. To cancel it all. To let everyone know, “I’m just not feeling it today.”

But then something in me whispered—quietly but firmly—“Do it anyway.”

I’d heard that voice before. Not my loud, optimistic voice, but the still, small one that shows up when you hit a wall. The one that’s rooted in character, not comfort. It didn’t sound heroic. It didn’t promise glory. It just reminded me of who I said I wanted to be: a woman of my word, a builder, a finisher.

So I got up. I moved. I completed that one task. Then another. Then another.

There were no big breakthroughs that day. No surprise phone calls changing my life. No sudden burst of motivation from the heavens. But there was something else: a subtle shift. A reclaiming of power. I hadn’t let my emotions drive the day—I let my discipline lead.

That’s when I realized something that changed my relationship with responsibility forever: your feelings are valid, but they don’t get to lead.

And more than that, I learned that success, growth, healing, and transformation don’t happen in the moments when we’re fired up and fueled with inspiration. They happen in the quiet, gritty, often unseen moments when we push through the resistance and choose to show up anyway.

It’s not about ignoring your feelings. It’s about not being ruled by them.

Because truth be told, I didn’t want to write that proposal. I didn’t want to return that difficult phone call. I didn’t want to go to that event where I’d have to smile and network when I really wanted to be alone.

But I did it. Because I had to.

And here’s the part that’s hard to describe unless you’ve lived it: when you do the thing anyway, even when it’s uncomfortable or draining or unglamorous, something in you strengthens. Your confidence grows—not from being perfect or passionate—but from being consistent. Your self-respect deepens. Your trust in yourself expands. You become someone who keeps promises—to others, but more importantly, to yourself.

That’s how you build integrity. That’s how you build momentum.

That’s how you win. Quietly, day by day, decision by decision.

So if you’re in a season like the one I walked through—where your joy feels distant, your tasks feel overwhelming, and your energy is inconsistent—I want to encourage you: Do it anyway.

Even if your hands are shaking. Even if your voice is trembling. Even if you’re tired or scared or unsure. Do it.

Not because it feels good in the moment, but because it’s aligned with the future you’re building.

Discipline won’t always be loud. Sometimes it shows up as a whisper, a nudge, a deep sigh followed by action.

But every time you follow through when you don’t want to—you’re laying bricks.

Brick by brick, you’re building a foundation for a life you can be proud of.

And when you look back, you’ll realize those hard days didn’t break you.

They built you.