Quotes

There’s this quote from Lauren Bacall that’s been stuck in my head lately:

“Here is a test to find out whether your mission in life is complete. If you’re alive, it isn’t.”

Leave it to Bacall—cool, smoky-voiced, effortlessly sharp—to drop a line that makes you feel both inspired and vaguely guilty for not having written a Pulitzer-winning novel before lunch.

But the more I sit with it, the more I think she’s right. Life’s “mission” isn’t this tidy checklist you complete before retiring to a hammock somewhere. It’s more like a constantly shifting to-do list scribbled in pencil, with new tasks popping up just when you think you’re done. You know that moment when you finish cleaning your kitchen, take a breath, and then notice the smudge on the fridge door? Yeah. That’s life.

The Illusion of “Done”

When I was younger, I thought adults eventually arrived. Like, one day you wake up, and your career’s on autopilot, your houseplants thrive, your taxes are prepped early, and your inner world hums with zen-like peace.

Spoiler: that day never comes.

There’s always another project, another dream, another half-finished notebook staring you down. At first, I found that depressing. I wanted completion, closure, the proverbial “ta-da!” moment. But Bacall’s quote reframes it beautifully—being unfinished means you’re still alive. The moment you’re done, well… you’re really done.

So maybe the chaos of it all—the half-painted room, the book draft that won’t end, the emails breeding like rabbits—isn’t failure. It’s evidence of living. The mess means motion.

Purpose Isn’t a Single Thing

People talk about “finding your purpose” as if it’s a single golden key you stumble across one morning while sipping coffee. I’ve tried that approach. I’ve made vision boards, journaled until my pen dried out, even asked tarot cards for a hint (the cards, by the way, are great at sass but vague on specifics).

What I’ve learned is that your mission shapeshifts. It might start as “write that book,” then morph into “help others tell their stories,” and later, “take a long walk without checking email.”

Each stage feels complete until it isn’t. And that’s fine. The mission evolves because you evolve. The Bacall quote isn’t scolding us for not being there yet—it’s giving us permission to keep growing, to reinvent, to try again.

The Pressure Trap

That said, I sometimes resent this “never done” thing. It feels like an endless homework assignment from the universe. The pressure to constantly be doing can get exhausting.

But there’s a difference between having a mission and constantly performing productivity. Bacall wasn’t saying, “If you’re alive, hustle harder.” She was saying, “If you’re alive, there’s still something that matters to you.”

It could be something small—watering your plants, feeding your cat, writing a love letter to future-you. Your mission doesn’t have to be grand or Instagram-worthy. It just has to matter.

The Quiet Missions

Sometimes the most meaningful missions are quiet ones.
Forgiving someone.
Letting go of an old version of yourself.
Learning to cook something that doesn’t involve microwaving.
For me, it’s writing stories that let people feel a little less alone in their weirdness. That’s not a capital-M “Mission” in the hero’s-journey sense, but it’s mine.

And on the days when I feel like I’ve lost the thread completely, I remember Bacall’s quote and think, “Well, I’m still breathing. Guess there’s more to do.”

A Gentle Reminder

If you’re reading this and feeling behind, like everyone else figured out their mission and you’re still fumbling around with the instructions—congratulations, you’re alive. You’re still in it.

That half-formed idea in your head? That’s part of your mission. That rest day you keep guilting yourself over? That’s part of it too. Every unfinished project, every detour, every new beginning—all of it counts.

Maybe “complete” isn’t the goal. Maybe the goal is to stay curious enough to keep going.

So yeah, your mission’s not done. Mine isn’t either. But honestly? I’m kind of okay with that. I like knowing there’s always another sentence to write, another story to tell, another version of myself waiting around the corner.

So here’s to being unfinished, gloriously and stubbornly alive.

There’s a quote by J.P. Morgan that’s been running laps in my head lately:

“The first step towards getting somewhere is to decide that you are not going to stay where you are.”

On the surface, it sounds so obvious. But then I think about all the times I’ve known I wanted something different yet stayed exactly where I was. Why? Because staying put is easy. It’s safe. It doesn’t require packing up boxes, rewriting résumés, or admitting to myself that I might have wasted time in a less-than-great situation.

The Allure of Staying Comfortable

I once lived in this tiny apartment that I despised. I’m talking paper-thin walls (I could literally tell when my neighbor was watching Wheel of Fortune), a shower that trickled like a leaky faucet, and a heater that seemed to have only two settings: inferno or tundra. But I stayed there for years.

Why? Because moving was intimidating. Calling moving companies, hunting for new apartments, dealing with deposits—it all felt overwhelming. So instead, I told myself, “Eh, this is fine. It’s not that bad.” But here’s the secret truth: when you let yourself settle in one area of life, it starts bleeding into other areas too. The longer I told myself the apartment was fine, the easier it was to tell myself, “this job is fine,” or “this project can wait,” or “this relationship doesn’t really need to change.”

That kind of complacency is sneaky. You don’t even notice it until you look up and realize you’ve been treading water for years.

The Power of a Decision

That’s why J.P. Morgan’s quote hit me like a splash of cold water. Nothing changes until you decide it’s going to change. You don’t need the roadmap yet. You don’t need to know every step in the journey. You just need that moment of clarity where you say:

“I’m not going to stay here anymore.”

And that decision? That’s the hardest part. It’s like breaking up with your old self. The self that was okay with mediocrity, with delay, with endless “maybe laters.” Once you cut ties with that version of yourself, things start to shift in ways you couldn’t imagine before.

Momentum Feeds on Movement

Here’s something wild I’ve noticed: once you make the decision to move forward, doors start opening that you didn’t even know existed.

For example, when I finally decided to move out of that dreaded apartment, the perfect place seemed to “magically” appear in my price range. When I decided to finally self-publish my first novel, I suddenly found myself meeting other indie authors, stumbling into resources, and finding readers who’d been looking for exactly the kind of stories I wanted to write.

Was it magic? Not really. It was momentum. My focus shifted. My energy shifted. Instead of scanning for reasons to stay, I started scanning for opportunities to go. And wouldn’t you know it—opportunities were everywhere.

Asking the Tough Questions

Writing this post made me sit back and think about where I’m guilty of staying put right now. The honest answer? A few places. There are projects I keep circling around without fully committing. There are routines I know aren’t working for me anymore. There are even a couple of relationships in my life that feel more like dead plants than thriving gardens.

And that’s the scary but freeing part about Morgan’s quote: once you admit to yourself that you _don’t want to stay here,_the excuses lose their power.

Start Small, But Start

You don’t have to overhaul your whole life in a day. Change doesn’t need to be dramatic to be effective. Sometimes the most powerful decision is a small one.

Maybe it’s deciding you’re going to write one page of that novel you’ve been putting off. Or deciding that you won’t spend another Sunday night dreading Monday morning—so you update your résumé. Or even something tiny, like unsubscribing from emails you never read (trust me, the mental clarity from a clean inbox is underrated).

Each little decision builds your “I’m not staying here” muscle. And before you know it, you’re stronger than you realized.

Stuck = Undecided

Here’s the reframe that really hit me: feeling “stuck” doesn’t actually mean you’re stuck. It just means you haven’t decided yet.

The moment you decide—really decide—that you’re not going to stay put anymore, you’re already halfway out the door. You’ve chosen movement over inertia. And that, my friends, is the real first step toward “somewhere.”

So if you’re reading this and something in your gut is whispering that you’ve overstayed your welcome in your own life, maybe this is your sign. Maybe this is your J.P. Morgan moment.

Because “somewhere” won’t come find you. You’ve got to decide to go looking for it.

Until next time—here’s to the power of deciding not to stay where we are.