Why You’re Not Lazy—You’re Just Uninspired.

**Why You’re Not Lazy—You’re Just Uninspired (And That’s Fixable)**

For the longest time, I thought something was wrong with me.

I’d wake up with big plans—write that article, finish that course, finally clean out the closet—but by noon, I’d be deep into my third YouTube rabbit hole, still in my pajamas, vaguely annoyed with myself. I’d look around at my unfinished projects and sigh, *Why am I so lazy?*

But here’s the truth I wish someone had told me sooner: I wasn’t lazy. I was uninspired.

There’s a big difference between lacking work ethic and lacking *connection*. I didn’t mind working hard—I just didn’t care about *what* I was working on. I wasn’t excited. I wasn’t lit up. I was going through the motions of a life that no longer felt like mine.

That realization hit me one night after scrolling social media for hours, watching strangers chase dreams I didn’t dare speak out loud. I slammed my phone down and whispered, “I’m not lazy. I just don’t know why I’m doing any of this anymore.”

That moment cracked something open.

### Step One: Permission to Be Curious

Instead of forcing myself to be productive, I gave myself permission to be curious. I stopped asking, “What *should* I be doing?” and started asking, “What *pulls* me?”

I started reading again—not books about success or productivity, but novels and memoirs. I followed artists, not influencers. I watched interviews with people who built strange, meaningful lives doing things like designing board games, making bread, or teaching street photography in foreign countries. And slowly, I felt something stir.

### Step Two: Create Without Expectation

I decided to try things with no pressure to be “good” or “efficient.” I bought a cheap sketchpad and started doodling. I wrote little poems in my Notes app. I joined a free writing group that met every Saturday on Zoom. For ten minutes a week, I was fully *alive* again.

I wasn’t chasing productivity—I was chasing *aliveness*.

And you know what? Once I started feeling alive again, motivation followed. I began waking up with ideas. I wanted to create, not because I had to, but because I *got* to. I started treating inspiration like a muscle—something that gets stronger when used regularly.

### Step Three: Build Tiny Bridges

I still had low-energy days (I still do), but instead of shaming myself, I built tiny bridges to help me cross the gap.

If I didn’t want to write, I’d just open the document and reread the last paragraph. If I couldn’t clean the whole kitchen, I’d just do the dishes. I learned to honor momentum instead of chasing perfection. I started showing up for five minutes instead of disappearing for five hours.

Those tiny acts weren’t about discipline—they were about reestablishing trust with myself. Every time I showed up, even a little, I proved that I was capable of more than I gave myself credit for.

### The Shift

Today, I no longer label myself lazy. I’ve learned to listen. When I feel stuck, I ask better questions:

* *What am I avoiding because I’m afraid it won’t be perfect?*

* *What used to make me lose track of time?*

* *What do I need more of—rest or inspiration?*

Inspiration isn’t magic—it’s a pattern of paying attention. And once I stopped beating myself up and started listening to what I needed, my life changed. My energy returned. My spark came back. And slowly but surely, I started moving—not out of guilt, but out of *joy*.

So if you’ve been calling yourself lazy lately, I invite you to pause. You’re not broken. You’re likely just uninspired. And that, my friend, is absolutely fixable.

Start small. Follow your curiosity. Make room for wonder.

The spark is still there. You just have to stop smothering it with shame long enough to let it breathe.