When Motivation Is Not There (And Life Still Needs to Happen)

Later this week, I had a personal realization. It was late. My house was finally quieting down for the next day, but my mind showed up the kind of quiet that comes after a long day of decisions, conversations, responsibilities, and emotional labor. I walked past the kitchen sink a couple of times, started loading the dishwasher, and then another thing grabbed my attention. After a while, I recall that I still had a kitchen sink full of pots and pans that needed my attention. Walked there and stood at the kitchen sink wearing bright pink gloves, asking why these dishes were heavier than they should have felt.

My brain was done.

Not tired in the “I could push through if I tried harder” way. Done in the way that only mental exhaustion brings. The kind that makes simple tasks feel loud, heavy, and almost personal. Motivation wasn’t coming. And yet… the dishes were still there.

The moment we think motivation should show up.

We’re taught (quietly, constantly) that motivation is what gets us started. That once we feel ready, energized, or inspired, we’ll finally take action. But standing at that sink, I wasn’t waiting for motivation. I knew better. Because motivation doesn't show up reliably when you're mentally drained, carrying the invisible weight of the day, managing decision fatigue, living with ADHD, anxiety, depression, or burnout. On hard days, motivation is the first thing to leave, and that doesn't mean anything is wrong with you.

Why “just do it” doesn’t work here

This is the part no one talks about. When our nervous system is overwhelmed, our brain isn’t resisting the task; rather, it’s protecting itself. That is a clear example of how everybody's executive function drops, and decision-making feels impossible. Even choosing where to start can feel like standing at the bottom of a mountain with tired legs. So when someone says “just get it done,” it can feel like failure layered on top of exhaustion.

That’s not laziness.

That’s a nervous system asking for less.

What actually happened at the sink

Task initiation was the magic potion I needed at that moment.

I didn’t suddenly feel inspired.

I didn’t talk myself into productivity.

I didn’t visualize a clean kitchen.

I put the gloves on.

That was it.

No promise to finish. No pressure to make it perfect. Just one small physical cue that told my body, “We’re doing something now.”

I turned on the water.

I washed one dish.

And then another, and I enjoyed the smell of my dish soap, which I truly encourage all of you to remove regular dish soap and make your dish task more pleasant with a scented dish soap.

Not because I wanted to, but because I stopped asking myself to want to.

Action doesn’t need motivation—just permission.

This is something I see over and over again in my work as a professional organizer supporting individuals and families navigating overwhelm.

People wait for motivation to arrive before they start. But motivation is often the result of action, not the requirement for it.

On hard days:

• We don’t clean the kitchen—we rinse one plate.

• We don’t organize the room—we clear one surface.

• We don’t finish—we begin.

The goal isn’t completion.

The goal is momentum without shame.

Organizing for hard days, not perfect ones

I came to realize in my work that we can all achieve a perfect rainbow like those from Home Edit or social media, but that rainbow will result from real organizing.

Real organizing doesn’t assume you’ll always have energy. It doesn’t rely on willpower. It doesn’t demand consistency from an inconsistent nervous system.

It creates systems that work when you’re tired, overwhelmed, overstimulated, or emotionally spent.

That’s what I believe in. That’s why I organize for real life, not highlight-reel homes.

Because the pink-glove nights matter just as much as the productive mornings.

If motivation isn’t there tonight…

You’re not broken.

You’re not behind.

You don’t need to try harder.

You just need permission to start small and compassion for the version of you standing at the sink, doing the best she can with what she has left.

Sometimes, that’s more than enough.