On Starting Again (Again): How to Begin When You Feel Broken

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had to start again.

Not in the shiny, fresh-start, “new year, new me” way. Not with a vision board or a Spotify playlist full of hope. I’m talking about the quieter kind. The kind that happens when life brings you to your knees and the only thing left to do is crawl forward on instinct.

The kind of beginning that doesn’t look like a beginning at all. It just looks like surviving. Getting out of bed. Answering one email. Eating something. Not running.

That’s the kind of start I want to talk about.

This isn’t your first restart.

It might not be your second. And that’s okay.

The world loves a redemption arc. But it prefers the tidy ones—the kind that fit into a podcast episode or a three-minute reel. Nobody posts about the re-restarts. The “I was doing okay, then I wasn’t, and now I’m not sure where I am” kind of chapters. But they’re real. And they count.

Sometimes the bravest thing you do isn’t changing your life. It’s deciding not to give up on it.

What does it look like to begin again when you feel broken?

Sometimes it’s logistical. You make a list. You cancel something. You call your therapist. Other times, it’s entirely invisible. You soften your jaw. You let someone in. You say “I don’t know” without shame.

You stop pretending.

You stop holding your breath.

You admit to yourself, if no one else, that the version of you that’s been running the show is exhausted, and something gentler is asking for a turn.

And that’s a beginning, too.

You're not back at the start. You're just in a new season.

I work with so many people who are terrified of the repeat loop. Of ending up here again. But healing isn’t a straight line. It’s a spiral. You pass the same landmarks—but you’re not the same person walking the path.

You’re bringing new insight. New questions. New tenderness.

You’re starting again, yes. But you’re starting from here. From now. And that matters.

Begin with what's in reach

Start with a walk. A shower. A deep breath in the car before you go inside.A meal you didn’t cook, but ate anyway.

If that’s all you can manage, let that be enough.

Let the mess be part of it. Let the doubt be part of it. Let the awkwardness and the “this wasn’t supposed to happen again” be part of it.

Because life isn’t a before-and-after photo. It’s a constant becoming.

One more thing…

You don’t need to feel ready to begin. You just need to notice the part of you that’s still whispering: “Try again.”Even if the rest of you is screaming, “What’s the point?”

That whisper matters. That whisper is enough.

You’re not broken. You’re rebuilding. You’re not back at the start. You’re just at the edge of something real. And I’ll say it again, for the part of you that needs it loudest: You don’t need fixing. You just need space.

If you’re here, starting again (again), I see you. There’s no shame in the mess. Just courage. Just breath. Just this moment. And that’s enough.

With you on the trail, Sarah x