Starting. Restarting.
Someone recently asked me to share my thoughts on two words:
Starting. Restarting.
At first, they sound almost interchangeable.
Both involve beginning again.
But the more I thought about them, the more different they felt.
Starting is the beginning of a chapter.
Restarting usually means another one just ended.
And I think that distinction matters.
When you're starting something for the first time, there's a certain innocence to it.
You don't completely know what you're walking into yet.
The possibilities feel wide open.
There's excitement.
Curiosity.
Maybe some fear.
But there isn't much history attached to it yet.
Restarting is different.
You don't arrive empty-handed.
You bring the chapter that came before it with you.
The good parts.
The mistakes.
The relationships.
The disappointments.
The things you wish you'd done differently.
The things you'd do exactly the same way again.
The person you became while you were there.
And sometimes you're also carrying the weight of an ending you didn't ask for.
That's why I don't think restarting is simply starting again.
Starting looks forward into the unknown.
Restarting asks you to look backward and forward at the same time.
You're Not Starting From Zero
Recently, I closed an 18-year chapter of my life working in leadership in Corporate America.
For nearly two decades, I had something that provided a tremendous amount of security.
A paycheck.
Benefits.
Structure.
Predictability.
A safety net.
I traded a lot for that safety over the years, including some of my freedom.
Now I'm building My Disciplined Mind full-time.
And there's an interesting tension in that.
I'm starting.
But I'm also restarting.
I'm a beginner again in many ways.
For almost two decades, something else helped provide my safety net.
Now I have to build my own.
That's scary.
There are days when I feel incredibly confident about what I'm building.
There are other days when I wonder what the hell I'm doing.
But I'm not actually starting from zero.
Those 18 years gave me something.
They taught me how to lead people.
How to listen.
How to have difficult conversations.
How to understand behavior.
How to recognize that what someone says the problem is and what the actual problem is aren't always the same thing.
Those lessons show up in my coaching every day.
The chapter ended.
The education didn't.
And I think that's an important distinction whenever we start again.
Maybe you're walking back into a gym after five years away.
Maybe a relationship ended.
Maybe you're changing careers.
Maybe you're rebuilding financially.
Maybe you're starting a business.
Maybe life changed in a way you never asked it to.
You're probably not starting from nothing.
You're starting with information.
Stop Comparing Apples to Oranges
One of the easiest things to do during a restart is compare your current self to some previous version of you.
“I used to be able to lift this.”
“I used to make this much money.”
“I used to have this title.”
“I used to look like this.”
“I used to have my life figured out.”
But I think we're comparing apples to oranges.
You're not exactly who you were then.
And you're not yet whoever you're becoming.
You're somewhere in between.
I've written about this liminal space before because I think it's one of the most uncomfortable parts of change.
Psychologists actually study something called self-concept clarity; essentially, how clearly and confidently we understand who we are.
Major life transitions can disrupt that clarity.
That makes sense.
If you've spent years answering “Who am I?” partly through a career, relationship, role, community, or pursuit, and suddenly that thing changes or disappears, the answer can become a little less obvious.
Who am I without this?
What's next?
What am I supposed to do now?
I don't think we need to panic when we don't immediately have an answer.
Maybe some uncertainty is appropriate.
You're between chapters.
You don't have to know who you're becoming while you're still meeting that person.
You May Never Get the Closure You're Looking For
There's another idea I've been thinking about.
We're taught to seek closure.
We want to understand why something happened.
Why did the relationship end?
Why didn't the business work?
Why did I lose the opportunity?
Why did this person do what they did?
Why me?
Sometimes there are answers.
Sometimes there aren't.
And sometimes the answer exists, but you're never going to receive it.
That can be incredibly difficult to accept.
But I don't think understanding everything that happened in the previous chapter is a prerequisite for beginning another one.
You can spend years arguing with reality.
The argument doesn't change what happened.
Acceptance doesn't mean you approve of it.
It doesn't mean you wanted it.
And it certainly doesn't mean it didn't hurt.
Acceptance can simply mean:
This happened.
Now what information is available to me because it did?
That's agency.
You may not control the ending.
You still have some control over what you do with it.
The Other Person Doesn't Enter Your Next Chapter. You Do.
Relationships make this particularly difficult.
When something ends badly, our ego loves building a case.
Here's what they did wrong.
Here's where they failed me.
Here's why this happened.
And maybe you're right.
Maybe they did hurt you.
Maybe they handled things poorly.
Maybe they bear significant responsibility for what happened.
But eventually there's another question worth asking:
What can I learn about me?
Not because everything was your fault.
Because you're the person you get to bring forward.
If I'm entering another relationship someday, what did this one teach me about how I communicate?
What boundaries do I need?
Where could I have listened better?
What behavior am I unwilling to repeat?
What did I learn about what I need from another person?
What did I learn about what another person needs from me?
The other person may never enter another chapter of your life.
You will.
So take the information that's useful.
Be Careful How Quickly You Answer “Who Am I?”
There's another temptation that can happen when a chapter ends.
We want to fill the empty space.
Quickly.
A new relationship.
A new career.
A new physique goal.
A new business.
A new obsession.
Something that gives us another answer to:
Who am I now?
I want to be careful here.
There's nothing inherently wrong with finding something new quickly.
In fact, research on relationships suggests that new relationships after a breakup aren't automatically unhealthy and may even be associated with better adjustment for some people.
So I don't think the lesson is:
“Don't date.”
“Don't start something.”
“Spend a year alone figuring yourself out.”
Life isn't that simple.
I think the better lesson is:
Stay curious about what the new thing represents.
Imagine you've left a relationship where you haven't felt seen in years.
Then someone enters your life and listens to you.
They ask questions.
They make you feel interesting again.
They make you feel valued.
That person may genuinely be incredible.
But the intensity of what you're feeling may also contain information.
Maybe part of what you're experiencing isn't simply:
“Look how incredible this person is.”
Maybe it's also:
“I didn't realize how much I missed feeling this way.”
Those aren't mutually exclusive.
Understanding what something represents doesn't make it less real.
It helps you understand yourself more clearly.
The same applies to a career.
A business.
Training.
A new friendship.
Anything capable of filling the space left by an old identity.
Enjoy it.
Explore it.
Be open to it.
Just remain curious about why it feels as powerful as it does.
What You Give Isn't Guaranteed to Come Back
One of the hardest things about starting again is accepting that doing everything “right” doesn't guarantee the outcome you want.
You can be a great husband and your wife can still leave.
You can be a great wife and your husband can still leave.
You can work incredibly hard and the business can still fail.
You can take care of your body and still get injured.
You can give someone your best and discover they don't want what you're offering.
That's uncomfortable because we like the idea that the world operates like an equation.
Do good things and good things happen.
Work hard and you succeed.
Love well and you'll always be loved back.
Life doesn't make that promise.
But I've come to believe something else:
What you give isn't guaranteed to come back to you.
But what you give still says something about who you chose to be.
That's important.
Because if I only behave according to my values when I'm guaranteed the outcome I want, those aren't really values.
They're transactions.
Agency doesn't mean controlling the outcome.
Sometimes agency is deciding who you're going to be even when you can't.
Give Yourself Some Grace
Restarting isn't linear.
You're going to have good days.
And you're probably going to have some really dark ones.
One morning you may feel like the entire world has opened in front of you.
The next morning you might desperately miss what was behind you.
That doesn't necessarily mean you're moving backward.
Research on self-compassion is useful here.
Treating ourselves with some grace after failure or difficulty doesn't appear to make us complacent. Experimental research has actually found that self-compassion can increase motivation to improve.
I think that's important because we sometimes confuse being hard on ourselves with holding ourselves accountable.
They're not the same thing.
You can have compassion for the person navigating the transition while still expecting that person to keep moving.
Some days you'll move a mile.
Some days an inch.
Some days the accomplishment may simply be that you didn't run backward.
Keep collecting information.
Keep paying attention.
Remain Open
If you were sitting across from me at a coffee shop and said:
“Adam, I know this chapter of my life is over. I just have absolutely no idea what comes next.”
I don't think I'd give you a five-step plan.
I'd probably tell you to remain open.
Remain vulnerable.
Don't become so desperate for certainty that you close yourself off from something you couldn't have planned for.
Have the conversation.
Meet the person.
Try the thing.
Ask the question.
Walk into the gym.
Apply for the opportunity.
Sit across from someone over coffee and see where the conversation goes.
Not everything will become something.
It doesn't have to.
Some people will stay.
Some will leave.
Some opportunities will become careers.
Others will simply teach you something.
Some experiences may change your life.
Others may only change Tuesday afternoon.
Pay attention anyway.
Because when you don't know exactly where you're going, curiosity can sometimes take you farther than certainty.
Turn the Page
Starting over doesn't mean going backward.
It doesn't mean the chapter that ended was wasted.
And it doesn't mean you need to immediately know what the next one is going to look like.
You're not starting from nothing.
You're starting with information.
Experience.
Evidence.
Maybe some scars.
Hopefully some wisdom.
Take responsibility for what belongs to you.
Give yourself grace for what doesn't.
Stay open.
Stay curious.
Ask better questions.
There will be good days.
There will probably be dark ones too.
Let both teach you something.
You don't have to know exactly who you're becoming yet.
You're still meeting that person.
The chapter ended.
You didn't.
Turn the page.
Keep Building.
If this gave you something to think about, I write every week about fitness, behavior change, discipline, and what it takes to build a more intentional life.
No hype. No generic motivation. Just practical ideas for understanding yourself better, asking better questions, and continuing to move forward.
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