Latest / The Comeback Story: Real Stories of Resilience, Courage & Reinvention / The Tiny Wins That Change Everything: Momentum From Small Victories | The Comeback Story
Transcript
- You’re waiting for the lightning strike, the moment everything suddenly makes sense and the mountain moves on its own. But life doesn’t work like that; it works like a slow, stubborn tide that only lifts you when you stop holding your breath. I want you to think back to the last time you set a huge goal. Maybe it was quitting smoking, starting that business you’ve been dreaming about for years, or finally leaving a relationship that had been draining you for a decade. We love to talk about those moments as if they are singular events. We imagine them as dramatic scenes in a movie where the music swells, the camera zooms in, and just like that, we are transformed. But I need to tell you something that might feel disappointing at first, but is actually incredibly freeing: those big leaps rarely happen in a single bound. They are built out of tiny, almost invisible steps that feel too small to matter. We live in a culture that glorifies the overnight success story. We scroll through feeds filled with people who seem to have woken up one day and completely reinvented their lives. It creates this pressure, doesn’t it? This heavy expectation that if you aren’t making massive progress every single day, then you’re failing. And so we wait. We wait for motivation to hit us like a freight train. We wait for the fear to disappear completely before we take action. But here is the truth that no one tells you in the highlight reels: the fear never fully disappears. The motivation doesn’t always show up. What shows up, consistently and quietly, is the choice to do the small thing. Let’s sit with that for a second. Why do these small things matter so much more than the big dreams? It’s not just poetic advice; it’s how our brains are wired. When you achieve something, even something tiny, your brain releases dopamine. That’s the chemical of reward, of satisfaction. It’s the same chemical that lights up when you eat chocolate or get a compliment. But here is the key: dopamine isn’t just about pleasure; it’s about motivation. It’s the fuel that drives you to seek out the next reward. When you complete a small task—like making your bed, drinking a glass of water, or sending one difficult email—you trigger that reward cycle. You give your brain proof that you can follow through. You build a track record of self-trust. Over time, these small hits of dopamine stack up. They create what psychologists call momentum. It’s like pushing a heavy boulder up a hill. The first few feet are exhausting. Your muscles burn. You feel like you’re barely moving. But once you get past the initial resistance, the weight starts to help you. It becomes easier to keep going because you’ve already started the motion. Most of us try to push that boulder by aiming for the top of the hill in one go. We look at the peak and feel overwhelmed, so we stand still. But if you focus only on the next three feet, the boulder feels manageable. You move it. Then you move it again. And suddenly, you’re higher than you thought possible, not because you leaped, but because you refused to stop pushing. I remember a friend of mine, Sarah, who wanted to become a writer. She had this beautiful dream of publishing a novel. For five years, she talked about it. She bought notebooks. She wrote outlines. But she never finished a chapter. Why? Because the idea of writing a whole book felt like climbing Everest without gear. It was too big, too scary, too perfect. Every time she sat down to write, she would look at the blank page and see the entire unfinished book staring back at her. The weight of it paralyzed her. One day, she changed the rule. She told herself she didn’t have to write a chapter. She didn’t even have to write a page. Her only job was to write three sentences. Just three. If she stopped after three sentences, that was fine. No guilt, no shame. Most days, she didn’t stop. The momentum carried her forward. She wrote ten sentences. Then a paragraph. Then a page. But the permission to do the small thing was the key. She wasn’t trying to be a novelist yet; she was just being someone who wrote three sentences today. That small victory gave her the confidence to write four sentences tomorrow. And the next day, five. It wasn’t glamorous. There were no cheers from a crowd. There was just her, her keyboard, and the quiet pride of keeping a promise to herself. A year later, she had a draft. Two years later, she had a book. Not because she had superhuman willpower, but because she trusted the power of the small win. She let the small wins build the ladder that led her up. This brings me to something I touched on in an episode a while back, 'Folding Laundry After Crying.' You might remember that we talked about finding peace in the mundane. Well, this is another side of that coin. There is a profound dignity in the small, repetitive acts of showing up for yourself. When you choose to make your coffee slowly instead of gulping it down while rushing out the door, you are telling your nervous system that you are safe. You are telling yourself that you deserve a moment of care. When you choose to put on your running shoes even though you don’t feel like running, you are building identity. You are becoming the kind of person who keeps their word. These moments don’t look like much on paper. They don’t make for good social media posts. But they are the bricks that build the foundation of your new life. You cannot build a cathedral on a foundation of wishful thinking. You need the solid, unglamorous blocks of daily discipline. And let’s be honest, some days the small victory is just surviving. If you got out of bed today, that was a win. If you brushed your teeth, that was a win. If you drank water, that was a win. We often dismiss these as trivial. We say, 'Oh, anyone could do that.' But you weren’t feeling okay. You were carrying weight. And you did it anyway. That matters. Please hear me when I say that. Those small victories are not nothing. They are everything. They are the evidence that you are still here, still fighting, still choosing life. Now, I know what you’re thinking. What happens when you miss a day? What happens when you slip up? This is where most people quit. They see a missed day as a failure of character. They think, 'Well, I messed up, so I might as well give up.' But I want to invite you to see failure differently. Think of those small wins as data points. If you try to write three sentences and you write zero, that’s not a moral failing. That’s data. It tells you something about your environment, your energy, or your expectations. Maybe you tried to write at 6 a.m., but you’re not a morning person. Maybe you tried in a noisy room, but you need silence. The small win teaches you how to adjust. It’s not about perfection; it’s about iteration. When you focus on the small step, you can tweak it easily. If the big goal fails, it feels catastrophic. If the small step fails, it’s just a minor correction. You learn faster when the stakes are low. You experiment. You find what works for your unique body and mind. That wasn't just luck; that was your backbone. It’s the backbone of curiosity. Instead of beating yourself up, ask yourself gently, 'What do I need right now?' Maybe you need rest. Maybe you need to lower the bar even further. Maybe you need to celebrate the fact that you noticed you slipped, which means you’re paying attention. Awareness is the first step toward change. So be kind to yourself when the momentum stutters. It’s part of the process. The tide goes out before it comes back in. So, how do you start? How do you build this momentum in your own life? Start ridiculously small. I mean smaller than you think you should. If you want to read more, don’t aim for a chapter. Aim for one paragraph. If you want to exercise, don’t aim for an hour at the gym. Aim for putting on your sneakers. If you want to be more present with your family, don’t aim for a perfect weekend getaway. Aim for putting your phone in another room during dinner. Notice how these goals feel almost laughably easy. That’s the point. You want to make it impossible to fail. You want to create a streak of small wins that proves to your brain that you are capable. Once you have that streak, you can gradually increase the size of the win. But don’t rush it. Let the small wins breathe. Let them sink in. Feel the pride of saying, 'I did the thing.' Tell me about the day you decided to try again. Maybe it was yesterday. Maybe it was ten years ago. But today, you have the chance to pick one tiny thing. One small victory. And then another. And another. Before you know it, you’ll look up and realize you’ve moved mountains. Not because you lifted them all at once, but because you picked up the stones one by one, and laid them down in a path forward. Be gentle with yourself today. Celebrate the small stuff. I’m so proud of you for showing up. Until next time, keep moving forward, one tiny step at a time. I’m rooting for you.