The Hidden Cost of Waiting

He kept telling himself he was waiting for the right moment. Waiting until life slowed down. Waiting until he had more money, more energy, more clarity.

But the right moment never came.

Weeks blurred into months. Months into years. He thought he was being smart, responsible, strategic — (translation: endlessly refreshing his calendar app while secretly scrolling Instagram).

Underneath it all, he wasn’t being strategic. He was afraid. Afraid of starting. Afraid of failing. Afraid of proving he wasn’t ready. And fear always disguises itself as logic.

That’s why the “not now” lie is so dangerous. It doesn’t feel like avoidance. It feels like maturity. But every time you say it, you quietly trade away the only resource you can’t get back: time.

Excuses Cut Both Ways

The thing about excuses is they’re elastic. You can stretch them into a cage that keeps you stuck — or into fuel that pushes you forward.

“I’m too tired to work out” → reason to quit.
“I’m too tired to skip — I need to move” → reason to push.

Same feeling. Two different choices.

Excuses don’t have to be lies to ruin your life.

Quitting vs. Becoming

I once heard someone say villains and heroes live through the same origin story: pain.

The villain says: “The world hurt me, so I’ll hurt it back.”
The hero says: “The world hurt me, so I won’t let it hurt others.”

Same script. Different permission slip.

That’s what Mike Posner discovered after his friend Avicii died. To remind himself life was short, he decided to walk across America.

Two-thirds through, a rattlesnake nearly killed him. Doctors said he might lose his leg. If he quit, no one would’ve blamed him.

But as soon as he could walk again, he went right back to the exact spot where he was bitten — and finished.

Because finishing wasn’t about walking. It was about proving who he was becoming.

Final Thought

There are no reasons. Only excuses.

And excuses are elastic — you stretch them to shrink, or you stretch them to grow.

So next time you catch yourself holding one, ask:

👉 Is this permission to stay small?
👉 Or permission to step forward?

Because once you see excuses for what they are, you get to decide: will this one keep me stuck — or push me forward?

As Eric Hoffer said: “The loudest lies we tell are to ourselves.”

— Linford