Progress: The Ache of Almost

There are days when I feel like I’m standing still, like the world is moving past me in fast-forward while I remain frozen in place. I watch others reach milestones, cross finish lines, step into the lives they dreamed of, and I can’t help but wonder—when will it be my turn? When will I finally break through the invisible barrier between where I am and where I know I’m meant to be?

I have big dreams. Big goals. A heart so full of love and ideas and stories that I know I am meant to pour into the world. I can see it all so clearly—the impact, the change, the life I know I can create. I hold it in my mind like something fragile, something precious. But getting there feels slow. Agonizingly slow. Like no matter how much I chip away at it, there’s always another obstacle, another delay, another reason to wonder if I’m doing enough, if I am enough.

I tell myself that progress is progress, no matter how small. That every step forward is still a step. But some days, it feels like I’m moving through water, like no matter how hard I push, the weight of everything around me slows me down. And the waiting—the waiting is the hardest part. Because I am not patient. I am not someone who enjoys the process. I want to arrive. I want to become. I want to look around and finally feel like I made it.

But here’s the truth that I’m learning, slowly, painfully—progress isn’t just about arriving. It isn’t just about the milestones or the moments of victory. Progress is in the days when I feel lost but keep going anyway. It’s in the nights when doubt whispers in my ear, but I still wake up and try again. It’s in the tiny, almost imperceptible ways I am growing, changing, becoming.

There is something so deeply frustrating about knowing you are meant for more but not being there yet. It makes the days feel heavy, the nights restless. It makes me question if I am doing enough, if I am working hard enough, if I am enough. And that’s the scariest question of all, isn’t it? The fear that maybe I am not enough. That maybe all of this trying, all of this effort, all of this waiting will never be enough.

But then I remember: the people I admire, the ones who have built lives and careers and stories that inspire me—they were here once too. They stood in this same place, in the ache of almost, in the uncertainty of waiting. And they kept going. They fought through the doubt, the fear, the exhaustion. They didn’t have a map, just a stubborn belief that they were meant for more. And so they pressed on.

And so will I.

I will keep showing up for myself, even when it feels pointless. I will keep pushing forward, even when progress feels invisible. I will keep believing in the life I am building, even on the days when it feels so far away that I can barely touch it. Because I know that every step, no matter how small, is leading me somewhere. That every failure, every setback, every moment of doubt is shaping me into the person I need to be.

Progress is slow. It is frustrating. It is lonely. But it is happening. Even when I can’t see it. Even when I don’t feel it. Even when it hurts. And one day, I will wake up and realize that I am no longer standing in the middle of my own life, watching it move forward without me. I will realize that I have arrived.

And all of this waiting, all of this aching, all of this trying will have been worth it.

Neta.