Elysianara

Why the smallest step is the most powerful one

I was 38 years old and working a travel job doing disaster recovery, 70–90 hours per week. I had just hung up the phone after talking to my youngest daughter, who was extremely sad.

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” she said in her trembling voice.

She missed me.

Her words caused tears to well in my eyes, which stung from lack of sleep and the grit from the day’s work. I knew I needed to make a change — a big one. I didn’t know what, but I knew it had to happen soon.

The solution that implanted itself in my brain after that day was to go to college. I needed to earn a higher wage closer to home so I could be there for my girls. But I was 20 years out of high school and had never attended college. How could I sit in class when I traveled for work?

The words my daughter said that day ran through my head on repeat.

I had to find a way.

I just began.

I researched online colleges that offered degrees leading to higher-paying careers. I spoke to financial counselors. Once I felt like I had my ducks in a row, I decided to see what my parents thought of my plan.

They didn’t agree. They thought I should continue working in disaster recovery.

But the pain of staying the same had grown larger than the imagined pain of going back to school — so I enrolled.

I just began being a college student while traveling the country doing disaster recovery. With my laptop and phone internet card in tow, I moved from job to job and attended class.

My workdays were long. My assigned roommate and I would trade off who got the shower first. Some days I fell asleep waiting — completely exhausted, covered in grime, debris, and sweat.

There were many days I was too tired to log into my computer. But I logged in anyway. I’d just begin to read, post feedback in class, or work on an assignment.

I kept putting one foot in front of the other — one class at a time, one assignment at a time — frequently challenged by unreliable power for my laptop or a weak cell signal for my internet card to function. I did what I had to do, for me and for my girls.

I didn’t think about the long-term goal of earning a degree. I only thought about that day.

If anyone had asked me how I was doing it, I would have come undone. I couldn’t explain it. I just had to keep going.

Eventually, I earned my degree. I even carried a 4.0 GPA for quite some time. After graduation, I got the job I had dreamed of, and my life pivoted 180 degrees from where it had been.

Today, when I reflect on that pivotal phone call — my daughter sobbing on the other end — I see a thread that has carried me through many difficult and transformative moments since.

I just began.

I didn’t have all the answers when I signed up for college. I was scared shitless that I’d fail. I didn’t have the energy most days to do homework or attend class, but I just began and accepted the risk that I might not do my best work that day.

Years later, I realized that phone call brought me to something bigger than just earning a degree.

When I began writing my piece Breaking Free, my memories were foggy. I just began writing, and somehow the words found their way through the fog and onto the page.

When I was trying to leave one of many abusive relationships, I didn’t have a clear path out. I just began reaching out for help — telling a few trusted people what was happening. Through trial and error, breakups and going back, arrests and protective orders, I eventually got out.

Even now, I don’t always feel like working out. I bargain with myself: just begin. Work out for five minutes. If I want, I can stop.

But guess what always happens?

I finish a full workout — because once I begin, I don’t quit.

And this is why I encourage you to just begin.

Not every journey toward something new needs to be crystal clear or perfectly mapped. Not every day will be filled with motivation. Not every path up the mountain of self-discovery or healing is linear — it’s winding, with ups and downs.

Ask yourself this:

Is the pain of staying the same greater than the pain of change yet?

Life changes in big ways when you let your intuition be your compass, put one foot in front of the other… and just begin.

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