Nine years ago, my family spent 15 months living in an RV. It was an amazing adventure, but had plenty of what my husband grumblingly called the "somethings": the flat tires, the full black tanks, the unexpected snowstorms. Those experiences helped shape one of my core philosophies: intentionality isn’t about waiting for the road to be clear; it’s about learning to navigate while the "somethings" are happening.

Despite years of living and coaching this, I still find myself susceptible to the myth. Reflecting this month, I realized it was showing up in an unexpected place: my relationship with our rescue dog.

Benji is a wonderful companion, but struggles with deep anxiety whenever delivery people approach our house. For five years, I’ve delayed the necessary follow-up training. My excuse was always the same: I don't have the time right now to research the best methodology, find the right professional, and implement a complex plan.

The cost of my waiting? A dog living in a state of hyper-vigilance, a house filled with reactive barking, and tension rippling through our family every time a truck pulls into our driveway.

Last week, I finally let go of the idea that I had to be the one to figure it all out. I stopped waiting for a calm week to become an amateur dog trainer. Instead, I took the first small, incremental step: I made a phone call to a training service. The training isn't finished yet, but the behavior is finally being managed because I stopped waiting for the perfect moment to start.

The "perfect time" is a shadow we chase to avoid the discomfort of starting. I’ve written a deeper dive into why waiting actually sustains the chaos we are trying to escape. You can read the full article on The Compass.

Link: It’s Always Something – Why the Perfect Time Doesn't Exist