I keep telling myself the problem is me. Motivation feels like a foreign language I never learned. Every time I face a challenge, I complain. If I somehow push past the first hurdle, the second one knocks me flat. And then I give up.

By the end of the day, I look back and realize I’ve made no progress on my goals. I think to myself, Tomorrow I will be different. But tomorrow’s me always ends up like today’s me. Hours slip away while I scroll through shopping sites, adding things to my cart, deleting them later when reality reminds me I can’t afford them—not if I want to education bills.

I don’t want to struggle. I want things to just happen. And for most of my life, they did. But now, for the first time, I’m staring at goals that demand effort, persistence, and grit. And I don’t know how to push myself to do it.

Sometimes a fleeting thought crosses my mind: What if I don’t live long enough to see the fruit of my efforts? And then the question creeps in—What’s the point?

I want so much out of life. Yet the moment I hit a barrier, my motivation evaporates. Today was another day of failure. Another day where I didn’t just stall—I took a step backward, even as my conscience kept nudging me not to.

I am praying to my one constant. My Father in heaven please help me I am failing, I am falling and I feel like I cannot get back up.