There are days when I wake up and the world feels heavy, as if someone slipped an invisible stone into my chest during the night. On those mornings, motivation doesn’t come easily.
I lie there, staring at the ceiling, asking myself how I’ll gather the strength to do the things I promised myself I would do. It’s in those moments that I realise motivation isn’t always a loud fire inside it’s often just a whisper, something you have to lean in and listen for.
When I need motivation, the first thing I do is go back to my “why.” I remind myself of the reason I started in the first place.
There was a time when the dream I now chase was just a fragile thought, an idea that made me smile at odd hours. Back then, before reality tested me, I believed with pure excitement.
I remember that version of myself the one who was hungry, eager, full of hope. I think of that younger me and I say, “Don’t let them down.” That memory alone often pushes me to sit up and take at least the first step of the day.
But sometimes memory is not enough. There are moments when I feel empty and drained, when I start doubting if I’m capable of carrying the weight of my own ambitions.
In those times, I lean on my past struggles. I think about the battles I’ve already survived. There was a season when life was so rough that quitting seemed like the easiest option.
I remember standing at the edge of giving up, tears burning in my eyes, my hands trembling with the exhaustion of trying and failing.
But somehow, I pushed through. I found a way. Looking back, I know that moment shaped me. So when I face new struggles, I remind myself, “You’ve been here before. You made it out then, you’ll make it out now.” That reminder works like a hidden well of strength.
There was one experience I can never forget. I had worked so hard to prepare for something important, but at the last moment, everything seemed to fall apart.
I felt like the ground had been pulled from under me. I wanted to throw everything away. But I told myself, “If you give up now, this pain will become permanent.
If you keep going, at least it can be temporary.” Those words carried me, shaky as they were, and in the end, I managed to rebuild what I had lost.
That experience taught me that motivation sometimes comes not from hope, but from the refusal to let pain define you.
When I need motivation, I also turn to people. Not always directly, but in the little ways their stories reach me. A friend who refused to give up after countless failures, a stranger whose courage shines through their scars, or even someone close to me who quietly keeps going despite their battles these lives remind me that I am not alone.
Their strength becomes a mirror, showing me that if they can endure, then maybe I can too. Sometimes I even recall the encouraging words people have spoken over me in the past.
A teacher once told me, “You don’t know how strong you are until you’re forced to be.” I keep those words tucked in my heart like a secret letter, and when the days are hard, I open that letter in my mind and let the words guide me forward.
There are also simple rituals I lean on. Music, for one. There’s something about the right song at the right time that feels like medicine for the soul.
When I’m low, I play songs that remind me of strength, of joy, of resilience. The melodies rise in me and stir emotions I thought were gone. Sometimes I take long walks, just me and the open air.
There’s a calm that nature gives, as though the trees and skies are whispering, “Keep going, life is bigger than this moment.” On other days, I just sit in silence, close my eyes, and picture the future I’m striving for.
I imagine the feeling of finally standing in the place I dream of. That picture, as unreal as it may seem in the moment, often gives me the push I need to start moving again.
But perhaps the most surprising thing I’ve learned is that motivation doesn’t always show up at the beginning. Sometimes it comes only after you’ve already started.
There have been days I dragged myself into doing something, reluctant and heavy, only to find that halfway through, the energy I was searching for suddenly appeared. It’s like motivation hides behind action, waiting to see if you’re serious enough to show up first. The first step is the hardest, but once it’s taken, the path doesn’t feel as impossible anymore.
There’s also the quiet power of gratitude. When I feel unmotivated, I take a moment to list the things I’m thankful for the people who love me, the opportunities I’ve been given, even the small things like the ability to breathe, to walk, to think.
Gratitude shifts my focus from what I lack to what I have. It reminds me that life itself is a gift worth showing up for, and that even on my weakest days, I still have reasons to keep going.
Of course, I don’t always get it right. There are days when I fail, when I let the heaviness win and I retreat into silence. But even then, I try not to stay down for long.
I remind myself that falling is human, but staying down is a choice. The beauty of life is that every new sunrise brings another chance to try again.
That thought alone can spark motivation the knowledge that as long as I wake up, I have another opportunity to fight, to learn, to grow.
Motivation is not always loud or dramatic. Sometimes it is just a quiet voice that says, “Try again.” And sometimes, that quiet voice is all you need to keep moving forward.
So what do I do when I need motivation? I remember my reasons, I lean on my past struggles, I draw from the stories of others, I create rituals that stir my spirit, I practice gratitude, and most importantly, I take the first step even when I don’t feel ready.