I talk about goals a lot.
Not only on this blog, but also in my practice. Because if you donât know where youâre going, itâs difficult to choose the right road.
Sometimes the goal is so far away that it doesnât give you direction anymore.
It just makes you feel like youâll never get there.
Iâm currently planning to build a house. About two months ago, I had my first proper conversation with the house planner. We talked. We planned. We turned my ideas into something a little more concrete.
Then I received the estimated cost.
It was way over my budget.
For a moment, I stumbled. Actually, I did more than stumble. I was almost ready to abandon the entire project.
I told myself it had been a stupid idea from the beginning. How could I, as a single person, possibly afford to build a house on my own? The goal seemed so far out of reach that there was no point in even trying.
After a few days of frustration, anxiety and disappointment, I began to ask myself a different question:
What if I donât need to work harder?
What if I simply need to bring the goal a little closer?
If youâve just started climbing mountains, you probably wonât begin with Mount Everest. Unless youâre a lunatic with an unusually relaxed attitude toward oxygen deprivation.
Usually, you begin with a smaller mountain.
Not because Everest is no longer allowed to be your dream, but because itâs not the mountain youâre ready to climb yet.
So instead of immediately trying to earn more, work more and somehow force the original plan into my budget, I took another look at the house itself.
Which parts do I actually need?
Which are necessities?
Which would merely be nice to have?
Thatâs when I noticed my real mistake:
I was designing the house for myself in 2035 with the money available to myself in 2027.
Of course those two versions didnât fit together.
The house I imagined for 2035 doesnât have to disappear. It can remain the vision. But the house I build in 2027 needs to match the resources, needs and life I actually have in 2027.
What does any of this have to do with physiotherapy?
Quite a lot, actually.
A patient recently asked me how long it had taken me to get rid of my neck pain. She wanted to know how long I had struggled, what I had done and how long it took until I could finally say that I was pain-free.
In hindsight, my answer wasnât particularly helpful.
I told her that it had taken me about four or five years until I felt okay with the painâand several more before I could say it was gone.
The problem with that answer is that she may now look at where I am today and believe that this has to be her current goal too.
She is trying to reach the goal I reached after years of adaptation, learning and gradual progress.
Just as I was trying to build the house for myself in 2035.
But being pain-free wasnât my original goal.
My original goal belonged to a woman in her late twenties who couldnât work properly, couldnât enjoy her hobbies and couldnât sleep because of her neck pain.
That woman wasnât trying to become pain-free.
At one point during my studies, I played a fictional patient in one of our lectures. I remember saying that I would be okay with living with the pain for the rest of my life.
I still remember the look on my lecturerâs face.
She heard the frustration behind that sentence. She gently suggested that there might be another possibilityâthat accepting my current situation didnât mean I had to stop believing it could improve.
Back then, I couldnât imagine a future without neck pain.
Today, that future is real.
But several years ago, pain-free would have been a useless goal for me. It was too far away. I had no evidence that it was possible, and focusing on it would only have reminded me of how far I still had to go.
My goal was much closer:
Have less pain.
Sleep better.
Work again.
Return to the things I enjoyed doing.
Once I could do those things again, another goal slowly became visible:
What if pain-free is an option after all?
Thatâs the strange thing about goals. Sometimes you canât see the next one until youâve reached the one in front of you.
When a goal feels impossibly far away, the answer isnât always to push harder.
Sometimes you need to bring it closer.
That doesnât mean settling for less. It doesnât mean abandoning the larger vision or convincing yourself that what you really want no longer matters.
It simply means choosing a current goal that fits the person you are todayâwith the capacity, resources, knowledge and evidence you have today.
The bigger goal can stay where it is.
My house for 2035 can remain a vision.
A pain-free life can remain a possibility (I proved myself it is).
But neither has to be built all at once.
Sometimes the best way to keep a distant goal alive is to stop demanding that you reach it next.
đ§Ș Letâs Experiment
Donât demand that todayâs version of you achieves tomorrowâs goal with yesterdayâs resources.
We often set goals for the person we hope to become without considering the capacity, knowledge and resources available to the person who has to begin.
đŻ Try This:
Think of one goal youâre currently pursuing and complete these sentences:
- My long-term vision is âŠ
- With my current resources, my realistic goal is âŠ
- Reaching that goal would allow me to âŠ
Maybe your vision is to become pain-free, while your current goal is to sleep through the night.
Maybe your vision is the house of 2035, while your current goal is building the house you can afford in 2027.
Both goals can exist at the same time. They simply serve different purposes.
đ§ Final Thought:
Your current goal doesnât define how far youâre allowed to go. It gives you somewhere possible to begin.