Latest / In The Driver's Seat / Inspired Action vs Forcing: How to Know the Difference
Transcript
- Lisa French: To tell you about a decision I made once that on paper looked completely reckless. It was a choice born from a bad situation with no safety net. And that single decision led me to a $650 a month rental home that became my sanctuary for over six years. But I've also spent months, even years, trying to force a relationship to work, pouring every last drop. of my energy into it, only to end up exhausted, heartbroken, and even further from where I wanted to be. So what is the difference? How do you know if that urge you have, that impulse to make a move is a true divinely guided, inspired action that's leading you home? Or if it's just your anxiety grabbing the wheel and convincing you to push and shove. enforce something that wasn't meant for you. That's what we're getting to the heart of today. We're going to break down that feeling, that subtle but crucial difference. So you can stop fighting against the current and start trusting your next move with clarity and confidence. To really get to what inspired action feels like, let me tell you the story of how I found the $650 house. It all started at one of the most stressful and uncertain times of my life. I had just decided to leave my second husband. The marriage was broken by disrespect and infidelity. And I just knew with this certainty deep in my soul that I couldn't stay. But the reality of it was quite scary. I had kids, they weren't his, which meant once I walked out that door, there would be no financial support. And the first husband rarely paid his obligation. That meant there was zero cushion. Making paychecks, cover the bills, had already been a struggle with two incomes. Doing it alone felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff. Every logical part of my brain was worried about the risk and instability, which wasn't anything I wanted my children to have to suffer through. And yet, underneath all that real practical fear. There was this strange sense of calm. It was a quiet, solid belief that the universe didn't want me to stay in a situation that was crushing my spirit, that I deserved to be loved and respected fully. A deep knowing that even though I couldn't see the whole path, things would be taken care of. That feeling wasn't loud or frantic. It was a steady, quiet hum beneath the noise of my own fear. So I acted. The very first step was telling my soon to be ex that it was over and I was leaving. The next was to start looking for my new home for me and the kids. My logical brain went straight to what can I afford? But my intuition, that inner voice, was specific. It said, not an apartment, a peaceful house. A nice home where you can heal. It seemed completely delusional. I thought affording a three bedroom house in a good neighborhood would be out of reach, but I trusted the feeling. While I was figuring out my finances, I sat down and wrote out a budget day after day, like I was preparing for a test. And on the line for housing, without knowing a single thing about the local rental market at the time. I kept writing the same number rent six hundred and fifty dollars. I wrote it so many times it felt like a prayer. Each time I was finished writing all the monthly expenses, I knew in my heart everything was going to be okay. And then things started to happen. A coworker of mine who didn't even live in the town where we worked and I lived was running errands on her lunch break. For reasons she couldn't explain, she took an unusual route back to work and drove down a random residential street she had never been on. And there, in the yard of a cute, well kept house, she saw a sign that said for rent. As soon as she got back to the hospital where we worked, she came to my office and said I don't know why I drove a different way back to the world. to the hospital, but I saw a house that looks perfect for you and the kids. It didn't say how many bedrooms or how much the rent was. So I don't know for sure if it'll work. The other part she couldn't tell me was what street it was on. The only thing she could remember was that it was on a corner. So the next day we took lunch break together to go hunting for this house. It took a little bit of driving around, but eventually we found it and it was really cute. When I called the number The landlord told me the rent was exactly six hundred and fifty dollars. They also had three bedrooms. She showed me the house the next day, and it was perfect. Everything seemed just seemed surreal, how it was all happening for me. A friend who knew how important it was to me to find a house that was going to be a good fit for me and the kids accidentally found the house. The rent was the exact amount I had been writing down when I had no idea what rent was going for in three bedroom homes. And as I just said, it was three bedrooms. The added bonus was that it was close to both where I worked and where the kids were going to school. When I was looking at the house, walking around, I had butterflies. The owner told me she would Hold the house for a few days without letting anyone else look at it while I made the decision. So over those next few days, I absorbed it all and then I signed the lease. Days later, we were moved in. And I lived in that beautiful, safe, perfect for us home for six and a half years. And in all that time, my landlord never once raised the rent. You could call that a manifestation. And sure, it was. But here's the key part of the story. The thing that I really want you to understand, that house didn't just fall out of the sky. It showed up after I made the terrifying decision to leave. It showed up after I started taking the practical steps of looking for a place. I had to be the one to put the car and drive and hit the gas puddle. The universe could only Only reroute me and show me the next turn once I was already moving. Now let's compare that feeling of scary but right with total opposite forcing it. If the house story was about an intimidating choice that felt clear and spacious, my experiences in relationships have often been a masterclass in what it feels like to act from frantic. Pressure. We've all been there, right? For me, forcing it looked like chasing someone who was emotionally unavailable, thinking that if I just tried a little harder, I could make them see my worth. It looked like overexplaining myself, writing these long text paragraphs to justify my feelings or get them to understand my side of things when they were mad or distant. It looked like ignoring red flags and straight up bad behavior, telling myself that if I could just be more patient, more understanding, I could avoid a fight and keep the peace. At its heart, it was pure desperation, a desperate need to prove I was worthy, to lock down the connection, to control the outcome, and to stop my biggest fear, abandonment. From happening. And the feeling of forcing is so, so different from inspired action. When I was in that mode, my body was a roadmap of stress. My shoulders were always tight, practically glued to my ears. I'd often have an upset stomach, that low-level turn of anxiety that just won't quit. My breath was shallow, caught in my chest. It's a feeling of being trapped, wound up like a spring, full of tension and a frantic, buzzy energy. It's the opposite of carefree. It's heavy, it's a burden, and it's completely exhausting. Forcing something is trying to push a boulder uphill, and your body feels every single ounce of that struggle. So how do you break that cycle? How do you learn to tell the difference between that soft hum of inspiration and the loud, bluring of anxiety? I want you to think about your inner guidance, like a GPS in your car. Your intuition, your soul, your higher self, whatever you call it, always knows the way. But your car's GPS has one non-negotiable rule. The car has to be moving. To give you the next turn. You can't get directions from a car that's parked in the garage. You must be in motion. So when you feel that urge to act, but you're not sure where it's coming from, use this simple three-part checklist. First, check your body. Your body is the most honest tool you have. It doesn't lie. An inspired action can still feel scary. Leaving my marriage was one of the scariest things I've ever done, but underneath the fear was calm. There was a rightness to it, an inspired action, even a huge one, often feels expansive with an undercurrent of peace, excitement, or even relief. Forcing it feels frantic and chaotic in your body. It's tightness in your shoulders, the knot in your stomach, the clenched jaw. It's a feeling of pressure. Pressure, like being squeezed. That's your nervous system in fight or flight. Convinced you have to do something right now to stop the disaster. If the action you're thinking about makes your body feel tight and stressed, that's a huge red flag that you are forcing it. Second, check your motive. And this one requires some radical honesty. Ask yourself, why? Am I about to do this? Is it coming from a place of simple next step clarity? Or is it coming from a need to prove your worth or control the outcome? Inspired action comes from alignment. This feels like the next right thing to do. There's a curiosity to it. You aren't obsessed over the result. You're focused on the rightness of the step itself. It's a pull from your soul. Forcing it is almost always driven by fear or lack. Desperation. The motive is to control what happens next. If I send this one more text, they'll finally get it. If I take on this extra project, my boss will finally see my value. It's not about the action. It's about using the action to manipulate a future you're scared of. It comes from believing you are not enough as you are. Third, And this one might be the most important one. Distinguish the next turn from the full route. Your inner GPS, your intuition is designed to give you one piece of information at a time. The very next turn. It says turn left in 200 feet. It doesn't show you the entire 500-mile journey or the traffic jam that's three hours from now. Inspired action is about taking that clear, immediate next step. For me, it was tell him I'm leaving. Then it was look for a house. Then call the number. Each step was small and manageable. I couldn't see that six and a half years of stability ahead. I could only see the next turn. Forcing it is trying to control the entire map before you've even left the driveway. It's being paralyzed because you want a guarantee that every single traffic light for the whole trip will be green. You're not just trying to take the next step, you're trying to mastermind the whole journey. And that need for control comes from a deep distrust in yourself and in life. If this is starting to click for you, I want to invite you to do something after this is over. Grab a journal. Or just sit in a quiet space and ask yourself, where in my life right now am I feeling that tension of forcing something? Where am I trying to control the whole map instead of just looking for the next turn? Identifying it without judging yourself is the most powerful first step. The beautiful and yeah, sometimes frustrating truth is that the universe will conspire to help you. But it can only meet you halfway. You have to show up. You have to take the aligned steps. Inspired action isn't about sitting on your couch and waiting for a check to appear in the mail or for a your soulmate to come knocking on your door. That's just waiting. True inspired action is an active process. It's putting the car in drive and hitting the gas pedal. It's trusting that even if you only know the very next step, you take it. And when you take it, the GPS will update and give you the turn after that. My coworker driving down that random street was the universe conspiring, but it could only happen because I'd already put my own energy into motion by making the decision and starting the house search. And it's so important to remember that inspired action can feel scary. It often involves leaving something familiar, even if it's familiarly miserable, for something unknown, taking you completely out of your comfort zone. That's naturally scary for our brains, which are wired for safety and predictability. But the key is to feel what's underneath the fear. Is the feeling under the fear frantic, grasping pressure? That's forcing it. Or is the feeling under the fear a soft, solid inner sense of knowing? Is there a feeling of this is scary, but this is my path? That's the signature of inspired action. So the next time you're at a crossroads and you're not sure if you should push or let go, come back to this. Pause. Breathe. Put your hand on your heart and check in. First, check your body. Is it tight and squeezed or is it the sense of calm and space on the inside? Second, check your motive. Are you acting from fear and a need to control? Or from a clear sense of the next right thing? And third, check the scope. Are you trying to plan the entire trip or are you just letting yourself take the next visible turn? Forcing is anxious, heavy pressure born from the fear that you have to make things happen. Inspired action is clear, aligned movement born from a deep and quiet trust that you are being guided, even when it's scary. So I'll leave you with this. In the stillness of your own heart, what is the next turn your GPS is giving you? You don't have to know the whole route. You just must be willing to take that next step. I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments. Thank you for being here. Please subscribe. It helps my channel in reaching others too who might need to hear this message. You can find links to some free resources for you in the description. Until next time, remember, you are always in the driver's seat of your own life.