I had a client tell me once that she was waiting for the moment she'd feel ready.
Ready to make a decision. Ready to move forward. Ready to stop feeling stuck. She'd been waiting for over a year.
I didn't correct her. I just asked: "What does ready feel like?"
She paused. "I don't know. It just… doesn't feel like this."
Most of the work I do with people isn't dramatic. There are no heroic breakthroughs in my calendar. No single session where everything clicks and the person walks out transformed.
What I see instead is Tuesday.
A client texts: "I went for a walk today and I didn't cry. That felt strange."
A man finally responds to an email he's been avoiding for three weeks. Just a two-line reply. But he sent it.
Someone makes a decision — a small one, the kind no one else would notice — and it turns out to be the hinge point. Not because it was dramatic. Because it was the first time in a long time they trusted themselves to choose.
We have this story about change. It's the therapy scene in the movies — the moment of catharsis, the tears, the revelation. And yes, that happens sometimes. But it's not the mechanism. It's the result.
The mechanism is Tuesday.
It's showing up on a Wednesday and doing the thing even though it feels pointless. It's calling the friend you've been avoiding. It's eating breakfast without forcing yourself to feel grateful about it. It's going to bed at a reasonable hour even though you have a lot on your mind.
Small. Steady. Ordinary.
This is what most people miss. The work happens between the sessions. The session gives you something — perspective, a reframe, a moment of being truly heard. But then you go home. You cook dinner. You lie awake at 3am. You face Tuesday.
And Tuesday is where the change either takes root or doesn't.
I've started asking different questions. Not "What do you want?" (important, but abstract). Not "How does that make you feel?" (important, but often a door that leads to more questions before it leads anywhere).
Instead: "What did you do on Tuesday?"
"What actually happened in the ordinary hours?"
Because that's where life happens. Not in the peak moments. In the unremarkable, unglamorous stretch between one week and the next.
If you've been waiting for a sign — a breakthrough, a moment of clarity, a feeling of finally being ready — I want to gently offer: that moment may not come the way you're expecting.
The clarity often comes after the action, not before.
The readiness comes from doing the thing, not from waiting until you're certain.
So here's what I'd offer: pick one small, ordinary thing. Not a life-changing thing. A Tuesday thing. And do it before you feel ready.
And if you need support in those ordinary days — someone in your corner between sessions, not just in them — I'd love to talk. You can find out more about how I work at /pricing. No pressure. Just here.
If that sounds like what you need, I'm here.
Send Jessica a message