It was about this time every year — late April, early May — that I’d pop my head up.
Take a deep breath. Anticipate the summer break coming. And look back at the first four months of the year to see how I was doing against the goals I’d set for myself in January.
Kind of project out what the rest of the year would look like.
And that’s when I’d notice: all those grand plans I’d identified in January — be a better leader, tackle the long-term projects, fix the things I knew were broken — had started off pretty good.
But I’d spent the last three months completely ignoring them.
The Pattern I Kept Missing
Every January I’d tell myself: This year is going to be different.
Making the resolution made me feel better. Like I was actually doing something about it.
It would last a couple of weeks.
Then I’d get busy. My ADHD brain would find something new and interesting. An urgent problem to solve. A client crisis. Someone else’s fire to put out.
Much easier to solve everyone else’s problems than my own.
And I’d push the important stuff — the stuff that was hard, the stuff that was FOR me — down the road. “I’ll get to that later.”
Later never came.
The Mid-May Recognition
So there I’d be in May, doing what I tell my clients to do: looking back at the first part of the year, checking progress.
And I’d realize: I’d made money. I’d solved problems. I’d worked my ass off. I was busy busy busy.
And I was exactly where I was in January on everything that actually mattered.
The succession planning I was going to start? Still just an idea.
The team development I was going to prioritize? Still on the list.
The systems I was going to fix? Still broken.
The long-term strategy I was going to map out? Still in my head.
What I’d Do Next
So I’d rededicate myself.
Get serious about it. Work on it for a little while. Make some progress.
Try to do it by myself because I didn’t want to admit I needed help.
Fall right back into the same pattern within a few weeks.
This happened for YEARS.
What I Was Actually Doing
I was stuck on interesting and urgent.
Important could wait. “I can do that later.”
The ADHD brain craves novelty. New problems. Fresh challenges. Things that feel productive RIGHT NOW.
The long-term uncomfortable work? The stuff that requires thinking, planning, sitting with ambiguity? The projects that are FOR me instead of FOR clients?
That stuff doesn’t trip the dopamine reward. So it gets pushed.
And I’d make myself feel better by resolving to do it “next year” or “when things slow down” or “when I have more bandwidth.”
None of those conditions ever arrived.
The Years That Went By
I ran this loop for years.
Every January: determination.
Every February: urgency kicks in.
Every May: recognition that nothing changed.
Every summer: “I’ll use the downtime to work on it.”
Every September: back to the grind.
Every December: exhaustion and the promise that NEXT year would be different.
Next year never was.
Because the problem wasn’t my intentions. The problem was I kept trying to solve it the same way.
Alone. In my head. Waiting for perfect conditions. Trying to do it between everything else.
The Thing I Finally Figured Out
The gap between where you are and where you want to be doesn’t close by accident.
It doesn’t close because you made a resolution in January.
It doesn’t close because you got busy and hoped you’d make progress anyway.
It closes through small, uncomfortable decisions made consistently over time.
Or it closes through one big, forced decision made under pressure when something interrupts the pattern and you don’t have a choice anymore.
For years I chose the second path. Made the money. Solved the problems. Pushed the uncomfortable stuff off.
Then something would force it, and I’d handle it in crisis mode instead of from a position of strength.
It’s May
So here’s the question worth asking:
How are you doing against what you said mattered in January?
If you’re in the same place you were four months ago, what makes you think September will be different?
What makes you think next year will be different?
The pattern doesn’t break itself.
You break it. Or something breaks it for you.
I’d recommend choosing the first option.
What Would It Take to Break This?
Small, uncomfortable decisions. Made consistently. Starting now.
Not in September. Not after summer. Now.
Pick one thing from your January list. The thing you’ve been pushing down the road.
Not the whole thing. One piece of it. Small enough that you can finish it this week.
What would it be like if you closed the gap on one thing before summer?
What would it be like if September started with momentum instead of rededication?
That’s what happens when you stop waiting for perfect conditions and start with what you can do right now.
Beyond the Practice Grind publishes most weeks. If this made you think about your own mid-year check-in — or the pattern you keep repeating — feel free to forward it.