When the Fog Starts to Lift

Right now, the only thing holding me back… is me.

I know that. It isn’t a lack of tools or ideas. It’s headspace. And I’ve been working on it.

The blogging has helped more than I expected. Writing regularly has smoothed some edges. Slowed things down just enough for clarity to start creeping back in. What used to feel tangled now feels manageable.

It doesn’t feel like Soon™.

It feels like the fog is actually starting to lift.

That clarity showed up in a very practical way this week.

I spent five hours reworking my website the other night and continued well into morning. Not expanding it. Not adding new things. Just organizing. Refining. Finishing.

For the first time in a long while, it feels complete.

Not perfect.
But settled.

Like something that’s moved past preparation and into readiness. A space meant to be used, not endlessly tuned.

That matters.

There’s a mantra that’s been drilled into my head for years, and it’s finally landing the way it was meant to:

I’m refusing to let perfect be the enemy of good.

I’m realizing that clarity doesn’t come from endless preparation. At some point, you punch the button, see what breaks, and deal with it as you go.

A friend once put it plainly: most of what needs to change won’t even become obvious until you actually start. You notice it, write it down, and tackle things one by one. It’s never truly finished but at least it’s alive.

That idea is resonating hard right now.

Memento mori has been sitting quietly underneath all of this.

Not as a warning. As a reminder.

Time doesn’t wait for perfect conditions. Waiting doesn’t pause the clock; it just spends the moment without letting you live inside it.

And I don’t want to keep spending moments on hesitation.

Progress toward one day being a streaming science educator with a deep blog about fatherhood feels real now. Not because everything is ready, but because I’m willing to live with it being unfinished.

I’m ending this week aware of the tension, but not ruled by it.

Tonight is for family. For familiar voices. For time that doesn’t need to justify itself. For letting the week loosen its grip instead of fighting it.

The fog isn’t gone.

But I can see far enough ahead to take the next step.

And for now, that’s enough.

This is where I’m ending the week.

Still a dad. Still figuring it out.
Choosing presence over progress, at least for tonight.

Much love. Stay safe. Wash your damn hands.
I’ll see you next time.