Demolition Comes First

Why Your Old Self Fights So Hard to Stay and What That Has to Do with Building Anything Real

There are days when everything feels like resistance, not from the world, but from within.

I've been in that space lately where the mind spins in old patterns, where the heart feels like a worksite mid-demo: loud, scattered, dangerous. Self-destructive isn't always violent. Sometimes it's quiet.

A thousand tiny avoidances.

A stack of tools untouched.

An inbox unopened.

A whisper that says, Why bother?

And yet, I've come to recognize this fog like I recognize a crooked foundation line.

It is not a failure. It is the setup for something new.

In construction, we call it "gut rehab."

Strip it down.

Expose the bones.

Tear out what's no longer working, even if it once held things up. Especially if it did.

Before anything beautiful is built, something has to give.

In Zen, they say the self must be forgotten to be found.

And it never forgets without a fight. Your old self, the one that knew how to survive, hustle, hide and built walls that kept you safe.

Kept you small.

But you are not building walls anymore. You are building open space.

Here is the uncomfortable truth I keep returning to:

The version of me that built the last chapter cannot be trusted to build the next one. That version got me here. But here is not where I am meant to stay.

So today, I do what I and all other builders must do.

I demo with care.

I salvage what still serves.

I breathe through the dust.

And I remind myself,

even when nothing looks like progress,

This, too, is part of the build.

Field Note:

When the fog rolls in, don't panic.

That is just the old scaffolding coming loose.

Stay present. Pick up the broom.

Clear the space.

The new plans are already in you.