The House Of Pine

What’s in the way is the way.- Mary O’Malley

Obstacle (noun): a thing that blocks one’s way or prevents or hinders progress.

Hi, my name is Paini, and I am an elite procrastinator, fuelled by V cans and unrealised potential. Think Lewis Hamilton at the F1 start line, wheels revving… just not moving.

(Ergo, my pre-made intro for a support group for chronic procrastinators…
one I haven’t shown up to yet, if such a thing even exists.)

All that energy… and nowhere to put it.

After all this time, I realise I’ve confused preparation with true progress.

There’s a part of me that wants to be seen.

And another part that will do everything in its power to avoid it.

A psychological tug-of-war, caught somewhere between could be brilliant and completely stuck.

Because being seen means being judged. Misunderstood. Questioned. It means getting it wrong in front of people instead of safely in my own head.

So instead, I prepare. I plan. I refine.

I tell myself I’m getting ready. Mistaking busyness for movement. Activity for progress.

But really… I’m hiding.

Not in the lazy, avoid-everything sense, but in the ruminating, overthinking, perfectionist sense. The kind where I throw an idea into a mental blender and keep refining it, cutting away every impurity until it meets some impossible standard before it’s even had the chance to exist.

I’ll spend hours locked in like a professional chef in a flow state. What “let her cook” looks like, personified. Typing away like a mad woman in all her glory, spelling errors and typos flying, too afraid to slow down in case I lose my train of thought… because I’ve got the memory capacity of Dory.

I write it, rewrite it, reshape it, convince myself it’s getting better each time… only for it to disappear into the lost lands of saved drafts, quietly forgotten, like it was never that important to begin with.

It feels like progress, but that’s the illusion.

Because I’m doing something. But nothing actually changes.

The more self-aware I become, the more I start to realise why.

In psychology, there’s a concept called locus of control. It examines where we place power in our lives.

An internal locus of control is when you believe your life is shaped by your own actions, decisions, and willingness to show up. It sounds like:

“I know what I’m doing.”
“I can do hard things.”
“Nobody can stop me.”

But the moment it becomes external, something shifts.

An external locus of control is when that power gets handed over to everything outside of you, to people, opinions, circumstances, and outcomes you can’t fully control. It sounds like:

“They are going to judge me.”
“What if they don’t like it?”
“What if nobody agrees with me?”

The shift between the two is so subtle you almost gaslight yourself into believing it’s out of your control.

From I… to they.

And without even noticing, somewhere between the idea and the execution, I’ve handed the control over to an invisible audience that may not even exist.

Afraid of being seen… and how I’ll be perceived. And perception is unpredictable, which makes it safer not to act at all.

And that’s when it hit me.

The obstacle is not outside. The obstacle is me.

Or more specifically… the part of me that’s scared to be seen.

My own blockage was built from a fear I’m starting to recognise now is actually rooted in something deeper… shame.

Shame doesn’t just say, “you’re wrong.”
It says, “don’t let anyone see you be wrong.”
Or even worse, “everything about you is wrong.”
(More on how that ties back to childhood trauma in a future post.)

And I think that’s what I’ve been missing this whole time.

I’ve been treating that fear like something in the way, disguising busyness as progress while avoiding the very obstacle in front of me.

But what if that’s the whole point?

What if the thing I’m trying to avoid is the only thing that actually moves me?

You know that song we used to sing in kindy… the bear hunt? “We can’t go over it, we can’t go under it… we have to go through it.” And I think the most important part of that song isn’t even the going through it… it’s the quiet little line that comes after.

“I’m not scared.”

Maybe that’s it. Maybe I’m not actually stuck. Maybe I’ve just been standing at the edge, deciding whether I’m scared.

Because what’s in the way… is the way.

In creative writing, we’re taught that movement is what drives a character’s development. Nothing changes unless something happens. A decision. A disruption. A moment that forces them out of where they are and into something uncertain.

Without it, there’s no story. Just repeated scenes with different dialogue.

And yet, in our own lives, we resist that exact thing.

We have dreams. A version of us out there somewhere who’s already done the thing.

But instead of moving towards her, we sit back and analyse her. Plan for her.
Act like we need to become her first before we’re allowed to try, as if she exists somewhere ahead of us, instead of within us… waiting to be lived.

At some point, preparation stops being helpful and starts becoming a hiding place.

I saw a quote once, “Preparation is where dreams go to die.”
It annoyed me… because it felt a little too true.

Because all this time, I’ve been at the start line.
Engine revving. Loud. Impressive. Full of potential.

But not moving.

If I’m honest, nothing scares me more than looking back years from now and realising I never actually moved, just got really good at revving the engine, mistaking the noise for movement.

But I don’t think I’ve been stuck.
I think I’ve been avoiding the exact thing that would move me forward.

Might as well call me Sandra Bullock, fully Bird Box-ing my way through life, blindfold on, pretending if I don’t look at it, it can’t see me either.

And I think my bear hunt obstacle has always been shame, disguised as a fear of being seen.

Which is probably why I’ve stayed where I am.
It feels safe… but I’ve been acting like I don’t have a choice.
Like my locus of control sits somewhere outside of me.

But even that is a choice.

Because staying where you are isn’t neutral. It just feels safer, and safety comes at a cost. Nothing changes until something moves.

I don’t think I can move forward until I face the very thing that’s been stopping me. Until I give myself permission to be seen

So if you’ve found yourself in that same loop… preparing, planning, staying busy but not actually moving, maybe it’s worth asking why.

What’s really in your way?

Or better yet… what’s still within your control that you’ve been avoiding?

Sometimes the thing blocking you isn’t something to avoid or get around.

It’s something to go through…
holding onto a quiet I’m not scared, even if you don’t fully believe it yet.

Because what’s in the way… is the way.