Congratulations. You’re Still Figuring It Out.
Turns out, that’s what thriving looks like.
January 1 arrives quietly.
No fireworks. No clean slate.
Just a house that feels a little too still, coffee cooling on the counter, and the strange pressure that something was supposed to reset overnight.
It didn’t.
If you woke up today still unsure, still carrying questions you thought last year would answer, you’re not alone. The calendar flipped, but nothing inside you magically aligned. No clarity download. No sudden certainty about what comes next.
That doesn’t mean you failed the year.
It means you lived it.
We treat January 1 like a verdict.
As if the year that just ended either crowned us or exposed us.
As if clarity was owed to us for surviving twelve months.
That lie keeps a lot of good people quiet.
Last year didn’t hand me certainty either.
Some things moved. Some stalled. Some never became what I hoped they would.
I carried doubt longer than I wanted to admit. I questioned whether the work I was putting in would compound or just keep me busy.
There were days I wanted a cleaner signal.
A clearer yes.
Something that would make the next step obvious instead of earned.
But that was never how the year worked.
And it’s not how this one will either.
Tenacity gets mislabeled as toughness.
White-knuckle endurance. Pain as proof.
That’s not it.
Tenacity is staying in the work without pretending you know how it ends.
It’s building while unfinished.
Letting progress wobble without calling it failure.
Last year didn’t reward clean stories.
It rewarded people who didn’t disappear.
There were stretches where nothing clicked.
Effort outpaced results.
Quitting would have made sense if certainty was the price of admission.
But certainty was never the price.
Showing up was.
If you’re still here, still thinking, still taking imperfect steps instead of backing away, you’re not behind.
You’re practicing Tenacity.
Resolutions assume clarity.
They assume you know exactly what to fix, what to chase, and who you need to become next.
Most people don’t.
They wake up on January 1 with pressure instead of direction.
A quiet sense they should declare something bold, even though nothing inside them feels settled enough to declare anything.
So they fake it.
Lists. Pledges. Language about “this year being different.”
Then February arrives and the lie collapses.
The calendar never had the power we gave it.
Midnight didn’t reset judgment.
January didn’t deliver certainty.
And that’s not a failure of discipline.
It’s a misunderstanding of how real change works.
Change doesn’t start with declarations.
It starts with continuity.
With staying in motion when clarity is partial.
With continuing even when the story you’re living isn’t clean enough to post about yet.
So if today feels quieter than you expected, that’s not a warning sign.
It’s a release.
You don’t need a plan worth announcing.
You don’t need a word for the year.
You don’t need to convince anyone you’re back on track.
If you’re tired, that makes sense.
If you’re unsure, that’s honest.
If you’re still here, that matters.
Most real progress doesn’t announce itself.
It shows up quietly.
In work that doesn’t feel dramatic yet.
In decisions that don’t look impressive from the outside.
This is the part where nothing feels resolved.
And yet, something is still moving.
You don’t need a breakthrough today.
You don’t need proof you’re on the right path.
You don’t even need confidence.
You just need to stay in motion.
Still figuring it out isn’t a flaw.
It’s the condition of building something real.
So if you crossed into this year unfinished, uncertain, and a little worn down, congratulations.
You didn’t quit.
You didn’t disappear.
You stayed.
That’s Tenacity.
What does staying in motion look like for you today, without pretending you have it all figured out?
If this felt familiar, it’s probably because you’ve been carrying more than you’ve been allowed to shape.
CTRL Signals are written alone.
The CTRL-ALT-REINVENT room exists for people who want a place to think out loud with others who understand the cost of staying in motion.
No fixing. No posturing.
Just honest conversation, when you’re ready.
CTRL: T
CTRL by JP Bristol
Clarity. Tenacity. Reinvention. Legacy.
* Image created with Google Nano Banana Pro
I love the word tenacity. Many years ago, I worked at Auto Trader, prior to becoming a therapist, taking pictures of cars for the local car dealerships. A camera with film! Anyway one of the managers said I was tenacious and that word has stuck with me even through self doubt.
I love how you reframe Tenacity as staying in the work without knowing how it ends. Reading this makes me wish for that same tenacity in my own writing journey, especially here on Substack, so I can keep showing up even when clarity is only partial.