The Whole Collection
When I was a kid in the 80s, I was obsessed with Thundercats. The cartoon, the theme song (I can still sing most of it, and no, I won't be taking requests), and especially the toys. I had a handful of the figures, and they were great. Lion-O, Snarf, even the Thundertank. Good toys. Toys a kid could play with for hours.
And yet, every summer, I'd find myself sprawled on the floor announcing to my parents that I was bored.
They'd say the obvious thing: "Well, why don't you go play with your Thundercats?"
And I had an answer ready, the way only a kid can have an answer ready. "I can't, I need the whole collection first."
The whole collection. We were a low-income family, so the odds of me ever assembling the complete Thundercats lineup were somewhere between slim and none. But I didn't know that, and honestly it wouldn't have mattered if I had. Because what I was really waiting for wasn't actually more toys, although that would've been amazing at the time.
My childhood bedroom unfortunately didn't include jungle landscapes and a smoke machine.
I was waiting for the commercial.
If you remember 80s toy commercials, you remember they were insane. Rocks falling from the ceiling. Lasers. Sound effects. Kids playing in some elaborate fortress while the whole room seemed to come alive around them. That was the bar I had set, somewhere in my little kid brain. I wasn't going to enjoy the perfectly good toys I had until my bedroom could become that commercial. Until it was perfect. Until it was 100%.
So I sat there, bored, surrounded by toys I refused to play with and waiting for a version of "ready" that was never, ever coming. I wish I could tell you I grew out of it.
The Toys Just Changed
As much as I hate to admit it, even as an adult, I've caught myself in similar situations, albeit with more "grown up" goals.
I can't start exercising yet, because I need better shoes. I'll get going on the project once I have the right setup. I'll make the most of the weekend once I'm a little more rested. There's always a "once," and the "once" is always just out of reach. In the meantime, I'm sitting on the floor again, bored, surrounded by everything I'd need to actually start.
And it's not just me. Walk it into the professional world and you'll recognize it instantly.
It's the person who won't apply for the job until they hit every single bullet point in the job description. The listing will have ten "required qualifications," and they've got eight of them, but they won't put their name in until they've got all ten. They need the whole collection first. Meanwhile, someone with six of the ten applies, interviews well, and gets the role, because they understood that a job posting is often times just a wish list.
It's the person sitting on a great idea who won't pitch it until the deck is flawless and every possible objection has been pre-answered, while a colleague walks in with a rough, half-formed version of the same idea and gets the green light to go build it.
It's the person who keeps turning down the stretch role because they want one more year of experience first, not realizing that the role is how you get the experience.
Learning to climb is sometimes how you become qualified.
In every one of these, the story is the same, with the main character saying a version of "I'm just not ready yet." But strip it down and it's the same kid on the floor, refusing to play with perfectly good toys because the room doesn't look like the commercial.
Ready vs. Certain
I had spent my life treating two words like they both had to be true for the other to exist.
Certain is the commercial. It's every box checked, every qualification met, every doubt gone, the outcome guaranteed before you begin. Certain is the complete collection that never actually arrives, no matter how long you sit on the floor waiting for it.
Ready is just having enough to start and being willing to figure out the rest as you go. Ready is the handful of toys you already own.
When I say "I'm not ready," what I almost always mean is "I'm not certain." Sometimes that hesitancy is wisdom because caution is needed. However, in the every day life situations, I find myself using the gap between those two words as a perfectly respectable excuse to do nothing.
And to be clear, I'm talking about the big decisions and projects you really do want to start but haven't yet. I'm trying to push you out of that hesitancy. You don't get to feel certain before you start unfortunately. You start, and the confidence fills in behind you (experience). I know that's backwards from how it feels standing right at the edge of it, but I have never once thought my way into feeling ready.
This Week's Challenge: Make a Move
I don't want you to read this and go back to the same old you. So let's actually do something.
Pick the one thing you've been refusing move forward on until you were "ready." Maybe it's the job you won't apply for, the idea you won't pitch, or the workout you won't start without the right gear.
Now:
Name the "complete collection" you've been waiting for. Write down, honestly, the imaginary 100% you've been holding out for. Seeing it on paper usually reveals how much of it you don't actually need.
Start with the toys you've already got. Take one real action today using only what you currently have. Apply with the eight qualifications. Pitch the rough version. Do the workout in the old shoes.
You don't need the whole collection and you never did. Stop getting ready. Let's do this.
Need a Kickstart?
The Full Playbook: "I'm not ready" is just one of eight excuse personas I break down in The Excuse Index, including the difference between getting ready and just stalling, and a 30-day plan to finally get moving. Grab your copy.
The Future-Self Framework: Not sure what you should even be aiming at with the "toys" you've got? Access my free Future-Self Framework to map the big picture into something you can start on today.
Blog Archive: Looking for more no-nonsense tactics to stop stalling and start moving? Read past articles on my blog, The Excuse Breaker.
The Excuse Breaker on YouTube: Rather watch than read? I break this one down in about three minutes, the first in a series on all Eight Excuse Personas.
