Grounding goals in being AND doing

Ditch the crystal ball, and pick up a mirror.

Photo by Fares Hamouche on Unsplash

I’ve always been good at imagining things.

Not just idle daydreams. Full-color, high-definition visions of my future life.
Freedom. Space. Time. Creativity. Ease.

I feel the sand between my toes, the sea breezes. Feel the ease between my shoulders, in my breath.
A life where I make money on my terms, wake up without an alarm, and feel excited instead of resentful about what the day holds.

It’s not just a dream. It’s an entire world I’ve built in my head.
And that world is vivid, addictive, intoxicating.
It’s also a huge problem.

Because the more I visit it, the more painful it is to come back to this one.

The fantasy has stopped soothing me

Here’s the truth: I’m not new to self-help.
I’ve visualized. I’ve journaled. I’ve recited affirmations with candles lit and crystals charged.

I know what it feels like to connect with a vision so deeply it makes my chest ache.
But lately, that ache has started to feel less like motivation, and more like a slow burn of dissatisfaction.

The fantasy that once kept me inspired now feels like emotional quicksand.
Because I come back from it and realize…
I’m still sitting at the same desk.
Still in the same job.
Still answering emails I don’t care about, still staring at bills I want to destroy, still tolerating routines I’ve long since outgrown.

And here’s the kicker: the same woman who built this current life is the one doing all the dreaming.
But she’s not the one who’s going to get me out of it.

That realization hurt like hell.
But it also lit a fuse.

The daydream isn’t the problem. The lack of action is.

Let me be clear: I don’t hate my dreams.
I think they’re sacred.
That world I imagine? It’s a message. A signal. A map.

But I’ve been using it like a security blanket.
A way to dissociate from discomfort instead of move through it.

Fantasy is easy.
Action is not.

Because action means confronting the systems I’ve built around myself.
It means acknowledging the parts of me that are still scared, still small, still stuck in old stories.

But here’s what I’m finally ready to say:

I’m done being the version of me that keeps the dream alive without ever trying to live it.

The woman I dream of being is real…but she’s not me yet

This is the identity break no one wants to talk about.

When I picture the version of me living the life I want, she doesn’t look like me.
Not in the way she moves through the world.
Not in the way she manages her time, her energy, her money, her choices.

She’s freer.
Bolder.
More direct.
More willing to disappoint people.
Less willing to tolerate bullshit.

She’s not magical.
She’s just different.
She’s who I become when I stop defaulting to old behaviors.

And that means I can’t just manifest her.
I have to build her.

How I’m doing it: Building the bridge from fantasy to reality

Here’s how I’m starting: right now, while I’m still inside the old life, still paying the bills, still finding my way out:

1. I defined her

Not vaguely. Not poetically.
I wrote down exactly what my future self does every day.
How she thinks. What she prioritizes. What she stops apologizing for.
Now, I keep that list where I can see it.

2. I identified the conflict

There’s a gap between her and me.
I made a list of behaviors I still do that she would never tolerate.
Self-abandoning. Procrastinating. Waiting for permission. Overexplaining.
I didn’t shame myself, I just got clear and honest.

3. I pick one trait per week

Just one. That’s it.
This week? She’s consistent. So I’m practicing that.
Next week, maybe she’s brave. Or boundaried. Or focused.
Tiny habits. Daily choices. Steps in the direction of Her.

4. I rewrite the story

I started catching the voice in my head that says, “You’ve always been like this.”
And I started responding: “Okay, but I’m not staying like this.”
Belief shifts follow behavior. So I do the new thing, even when I feel like a fraud.

5. I take daily “jumps”

Each day, I ask: What would future me do today that I’ve been avoiding?
Then I do that one thing.
Create the product. Ask the question. Block the time. Make the plan.

Every jump counts.
Every action becomes a receipt.

I’m not fully her yet, but I’m not the old me either

I still dissociate sometimes.
I still fall back into fantasy.
But now I treat those moments as information.

If I’m desperate to escape my life, it means something’s off.
It’s data, a sign - not a sentence.

The gap between the life I dream of and the life I’m living isn’t fixed.
It’s fluid.

And every single action I take in her direction shortens the distance.

The frustration is sacred

I used to think I had to fix my mindset before I could act.
Now I know: action changes mindset. Not the other way around.

The frustration I feel when I land back in my old life isn’t a flaw.
It’s the fuel.
It’s proof that I’m outgrowing something.
It’s a demand for change.

So I’m not pushing it down anymore.
I’m using it.
I’m letting it shape my next move.
And the next.
And the next.

Because the dream was never the point.
Becoming the version of me who can live it: that’s the game.

And I’m playing to win. 🔥