you’re not ‘starting over’ – you’re starting from data
There’s this sick little joke our brain loves to play on us every time life falls apart:
“ugh, here we go again. starting from scratch.”
New city, new job, new relationship status, new body, new diagnosis, new medication. Whatever the plot twist is, the narrative in your head stays the same:
everyone else is moving forward while I keep getting dropped back at square one.
But here’s the truth I wish someone had tattooed on my forehead years ago:
You are never starting from scratch. You are starting from data.
Every “failed” routine, abandoned habit tracker, messy season, and “I’ll do better on Monday” spiral is proof that you have information. You know what you don’t like. You know what breaks you. You know what your body says no to. You know which environments drain you. You know which people make you forget who you are.
That’s not a blank slate. That’s a lab full of experiments.
lesson 1: your life is not a before-and-after, it’s a research study
The self-help world loves a dramatic “before and after.”
The real world is more like: “before, during, during, during, during, after-ish.”
When you see yourself as a project that keeps failing, you start to believe you’re the problem.
When you see yourself as a researcher, everything shifts:
you’re allowed to try different inputs
you’re allowed to adjust the experiment
you’re allowed to say “that method wasn’t for me” without spiraling
Instead of: “I can’t stick to anything,”
you get to say: “I just learned that 5am workouts don’t fit my current life constraints. noted.”
Same situation. Different story. Completely different future.
lesson 2: the stories you tell yourself are the software running your life
Humans don’t run on willpower, we run on stories.
“I’m lazy.”
“I’m all or nothing.”
“I always fall off.”
“I just need someone to yell at me to get things done.”
“I never follow through.”
These sound like observations, but most of the time they’re just old code you installed when you were trying to make sense of pain.
When you’re in a rebuild era, one of the most powerful things you can do is pause and ask:
“who told me this story first?”
“who benefits from me believing this about myself?”
“what else could be true?”
No, you don’t have to stand in the mirror and chant “I am a disciplined queen” until your throat hurts.
But you can soften a story from:
“I never stick to anything.”
to:
“I haven’t yet found a way of doing this that fits my energy, my brain, and my life right now.”
That one word “yet” quietly keeps the door open.
lesson 3: the rebuild starts smaller than you think
When life has been on fire, it’s tempting to announce a dramatic rebirth:
new routine, new diet, new wardrobe, new personality, new era.
But your nervous system does not care about your era. It cares about safety and evidence.
Rebuilding looks way more like:
making one corner of your home feel calm
proving you can keep one promise to yourself for a week
choosing a bedtime that doesn’t make your brain hate you
texting one safe person back and saying, “hey, I’m in a weird season, but I’m here.”
It’s boring. It’s gentle. It’s slower than you want.
But this is the kind of boring that actually sticks.
okay but… where do you start?
If you’re reading this and thinking, “cool, but how do I actually do a rebuild without burning out again?” here’s a simple starting point:
name your season
literally write: “I’m in a rebuild era from __ to __.” Give it a container.write the old story you’re tired of living in
“I’m someone who ____.” Be brutally honest.write the updated story that’s 10% kinder and more useful
not delusional, just slightly softer and more empowering.pick one behavior that matches that new story
Something so stupidly small it almost feels insulting.
“future me goes on a 10-minute walk three times a week.”
“future me clears my surfaces for 5 minutes before bed.”
“future me checks in on myself every Sunday and adjusts.”
You don’t have to fix your whole life by Friday.
You just have to start collecting data for a better story.
