top of page

The Fallacy of Waiting Until You’re Ready

  • Deevo Tindall
  • Feb 6
  • 4 min read

Why This Is Worth Reading


This is for the people who keep telling themselves they are being responsible, while quietly knowing they are postponing something that wants to be lived.


Read Time: 3 minutes


The Lie That Dresses Itself as Responsibility


There is a story so familiar it rarely gets questioned. It says the sensible thing to do is stay put, collect credentials, build security, and defer ownership until confidence feels solid enough to stand on. It sounds grown up. It sounds measured. It sounds like wisdom.


For many people, that structure provides rhythm and meaning, and it does exactly what it is designed to do.


But for some of us, something else keeps tapping.


It does not arrive as a business plan or a five-year vision. It shows up at three in the morning while you stare at the ceiling and replay the same thought you have been shelving for years.


It drifts through conference rooms while someone explains slides you will never think about again.


It creeps in around four thirty in the afternoon when you are already watching the clock and wondering how this became the shape of your days.


It keeps resurfacing in the quiet moments too, less like a fully formed idea and more like a persistent awareness that something else wants your participation.


“If this were going to disappear, it would have by now.”


Most people file that feeling under a familiar phrase that sounds responsible enough to end the conversation.


“I’ll start when I’m ready.”


Readiness Is a Result, Not a Requirement


Here is the part that rarely gets said plainly: readiness does not usually arrive before action.


Psychology has shown this repeatedly. The brain organizes itself through engagement, not repeated contemplation.


Skill, confidence, and clarity develop through contact with real situations, real feedback, and real consequence. Research on identity-based motivation supports this pattern, showing that people step more fully into capability by acting their way forward, letting identity take shape through use rather than waiting for certainty to appear.


“Motion teaches the nervous system what it can carry.”


When I stepped away from corporate life, I did not do it with a pristine plan or a fully articulated future. I had experience, curiosity, and a willingness to stay close to the work instead of circling it from a safe distance. Coherence showed up through proximity, through real decisions, real constraints and failures, and the steady pressure of ownership asking me to pay attention.


That engagement changed how I thought, how I worked, and how I trusted myself.


The Swimming Pool Problem


Most people approach change the way adults approach a cold swimming pool.

They stand at the edge, toe-testing, running scenarios, bracing for shock, telling themselves they just need a little more time to acclimate. They wait for the moment it feels just comfortable enough to step in.


It never does.


The people who actually swim are the ones who jump right in. The cold slaps you awake, steals your breath, and sends your arms and legs into a brief, uncoordinated protest, like a hatchling taking its first steps. For a moment it feels chaotic, even dramatic, then your breathing settles, your body recalibrates, and you realize you are fine. The water stayed cold… you just learned how to be in it.


Starting something meaningful works the same way. There is no gentle on-ramp. You acclimate through immersion, through the initial shock, and through the quiet realization that your capacity shows up only after you stop hovering at the edge.


What Freedom Quietly Rearranges


Freedom makes life unmistakably more yours.


When you step out of someone else’s rules and begin carrying your own decisions, effort finds a new home. Energy that once went toward sounding competent, staying safe, and reading the room starts flowing into choices that actually shape your days. Attention shifts from managing perception to engaging with reality. The work becomes tangible and the stakes become personal.


It feels like the first week after the training wheels come off. Wobbly. A little electric. Every crack in the pavement suddenly matters because balance belongs to you now. And then, without ceremony, balance arrives. The road did not change, your body just learned the rhythm.


Confidence settles into behavior. Decisions gain clarity because ownership is clear. Capacity stretches through repetition. You learn what you can carry by carrying it, and that knowledge sticks in a way theory never does.


That is the quiet payoff. Freedom introduces you to yourself, up close, in motion, and fully engaged.


“Freedom is less about escape and more about authorship.”


The work stops rattling around in your head like an overcaffeinated idea and starts showing up in your hands, where direction gets clearer through doing, and a quiet, durable sense of agency takes root without needing any applause.


The Only Question That Actually Matters


This moment is rarely about intelligence, talent, or timing. It centers on whether you are willing to begin before certainty feels complete and allow the work itself to shape you.


Momentum tends to meet people who move with intention, not those who wait for confidence to arrive fully formed.


If something in you has been circling an idea, a direction, or a different way of working, the most informative step is often the smallest one taken seriously.

From there, the path reveals itself through action. It always has.


“Readiness lives on the other side of engagement.”


About Deevo


Deevo is a brand strategist, keynote speaker, and professional pattern-noticer who helps leaders and founders make sense of identity, alignment, and the patterns shaping their work and lives. His writing tends to explore the spaces beneath the obvious questions, where clarity usually takes a little longer to show up.


If this resonated, feel free to reply and share what has been asking for your attention lately. I read every response.







 
 
 

Comments


bottom of page