I was incredibly consistent.
That was the problem.
We are told that consistency is the secret to success: Show up. Work hard. Keep going. Don't quit.
Great advice.
Unless you are climbing the wrong mountain.
I was not just climbing the wrong mountain. I had set up practically permanent residence and decorated the place.
For years, I poured everything I had into nonprofit work, including a food pantry and clothing room for people in need.
Now, before anyone gets the wrong idea, food pantries do important work. They fill a need. I believed in what I was doing and gave it everything I had.
Unfortunately, what I had to give included things I could not afford.
My time. My career. My mental health. Too much of me.
And the worst part is that my family got what was leftover.
That is the part nobody wants to talk about -- those times when the most noble-seeming work from the outside is quietly eating you alive from the inside.
But I kept showing up.
Because I am consistent, remember?
And because something good feels a lot like something bad if you stop.
So I stayed long after I should have left.
I kept climbing, sure that if I worked a bit harder, something would change eventually.
Spoiler alert: It didn't.
The mountain was not getting any taller. I was just getting more exhausted.
Eventually, I had to admit something I really didn't want to admit:
I was on the wrong mountain, and no amount of dedication would make it the right one.
So I did a U-turn.
I wish I could tell you it was some glorious moment of clarity, with inspirational music and a breathtaking sunrise.
It wasn't.
It felt like failure.
It felt like throwing away years of work. Like deleting an entire chapter I spent forever writing because I finally realized it didn't belong in the book.
As a writer, you know exactly how painful that is.
But here is where things got interesting.
When I finally found the right mountain, I discovered something.
I had not been the problem.
I did not lose my work ethic, my leadership, or my desire to make a difference.
I had just spent years pouring all of those things into a place where there was no room for me to grow.
Almost immediately after changing direction, things started happening.
I went from an entry-level position to Director in three years, nearly doubling my salary.
And no, I did not get smarter or more talented overnight, nor did I discover some magical productivity hack. I was still the same ridiculously stubborn person who believed in giving 100%.
The difference?
I was finally giving 100% to something that had room for me, too.
That changed everything.
I will not pretend that those lost years on the wrong mountain did not cost me. They did. There are some things I cannot get back.
But I also refuse to believe that turning around meant starting from scratch.
I brought everything I learned with me, even the painful stuff. Especially the painful stuff.
Here is what I wish I had understood sooner:
Consistency is a beautiful thing. But an absence of direction can keep you stuck just as effectively as doing nothing at all.
Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is not to keep climbing.
It is to turn around.
A U-turn is not quitting. It is editing.
And sometimes, the chapter you have worked the hardest on is the very one that needs to go.
I still believe in hard work. I still believe in showing up. I still believe in momentum.
Just no longer in every mountain that needs to be climbed because I am already halfway up.
The proper mountain does not necessarily make the climb easier.
It makes the climb worth it.
So here is to the U-turns.
To the chapters we have finally had the courage to delete.
And to the realization, preferably long before we have wasted another decade, that being really good at climbing does not mean we are on the right mountain.
Sometimes, the most productive thing you can do is stop, turn around, and find something worth going to.
Momentum can never really be lost.
It can only be delayed.
And then it is paid back in full.