Trying: The Soft Language of Stagnation

Let’s stop playing nice with this word. “I’m trying.” It sounds responsible, humble, even admirable, but most of the time it’s nothing more than a well-dressed lie you tell yourself so you don’t have to confront what you’re actually doing, or more accurately, what you’re avoiding. “I’m trying to get in shape.” “I’m trying to fix my marriage.” “I’m trying to stay clean.” “I’m trying to be more disciplined.” No, you’re not. You’re negotiating. You’re managing perception. You’re keeping your options open while pretending you’ve made a decision, and that one word is quietly killing your growth while convincing you you’re still in the game.

“Trying” lives in the safest place possible: the middle. Not failure, not commitment, just enough motion to feel alive but not enough action to change anything. It’s the perfect psychological loophole. You get credit without cost. You get identity without transformation. You get to tell people, and yourself, that you’re working on it without actually putting anything on the line. Because real growth always requires something to die. Time, comfort, habits, relationships, excuses, sometimes all of it. “Trying” doesn’t kill anything. It preserves everything, including the version of you that’s keeping you stuck. You don’t burn the bridge, you stand in the middle of it talking about how you’re thinking about crossing.

Here’s the part most people won’t say out loud: “trying” protects your identity. If you fully commit and fail, it forces a confrontation you’d rather avoid. Maybe you’re not as disciplined, focused, or strong as you thought. Maybe you don’t have it figured out. Maybe you’re not in control. That’s uncomfortable, so instead you stay in “trying,” where you can always fall back on the same excuse: “well, I didn’t really go all in.” That’s not humility, that’s ego hiding behind effort. “Trying” lets you keep your self-image intact while your life stays unchanged. You get to believe you’re committed without ever proving it, and over time you start confusing intention with identity.

The Bible doesn’t speak the language of “trying” either. Look at the Book of James, where it calls you to be a doer, not someone who just hears and nods along. It doesn’t say be a trier. It doesn’t reward good intentions that never turn into action. It calls for movement, obedience, follow-through. Even Moses didn’t stand at the Red Sea saying he was trying to lead people. He moved forward, scared, uncertain, and outmatched, but moving. “Trying” would have left them standing there, talking about what could happen instead of stepping into what God was doing. Action split the sea. “Trying” just stares at the problem and calls it effort.

This hits even harder in addiction and personal change, where “trying” becomes a hiding place. “I’m trying to quit.” “I’m trying to change.” What it usually means is you’re not ready to let go. Because “trying” keeps the door cracked. It leaves room for relapse, compromise, and justification. You don’t burn the ships, you keep them docked, fueled, and ready in case things get uncomfortable. And they will get uncomfortable. That’s why “trying” feels safe, because it doesn’t require the old version of you to die. But real growth demands it. At some point you have to say this version of me is done, not managed, not minimized, not controlled, done. That’s where growth begins, not when you try to change, but when you decide the old you doesn’t get a vote anymore.

Growth requires a kind of internal violence most people avoid. Not toward others, but toward the parts of you that keep settling. It means killing excuses before they speak, shutting down the voice that negotiates weakness, and doing the work even when everything in you wants to avoid it. Because your feelings will lie to you all day long. You don’t feel like waking up early. You don’t feel like working out. You don’t feel like having the hard conversation. You don’t feel like staying consistent. Good. Do it anyway. “Trying” waits for the right feeling. Growth creates momentum regardless of feeling. One is emotional, the other is disciplined, and discipline doesn’t care how you feel, it cares what you do.

Most people who say they’re trying aren’t stuck, they’re undecided. They haven’t fully committed to who they’re becoming. They’re still entertaining both identities at the same time, the disciplined version and the comfortable version, the future version and the familiar version, the growth version and the excuse version. You can’t live in both. At some point you have to decide which version gets fed, because both cannot survive. Every decision you make is a vote. Every habit you repeat is a vote. Every excuse you accept is a vote. “Trying” is what people say when they don’t want to admit which way they’re voting.

Let’s kill another lie while we’re here. Growth is not glamorous. It’s not a highlight reel or a breakthrough moment with dramatic music. It’s repetition. It’s waking up and doing the same disciplined actions over and over until they become who you are. It’s choosing long-term results over short-term comfort daily. It’s showing up when nobody’s watching, doing the work when nobody’s clapping, and staying consistent when nothing feels like it’s working. It doesn’t feel powerful in the moment. It feels small, repetitive, even pointless. Until one day everything is different, and people call it overnight success without realizing it was built on a thousand quiet decisions.

Look at Jesus Christ. He didn’t say He would try to go to the cross. He made a decision and followed it all the way through, pain, fear, betrayal, and all. That’s the difference. “Trying” debates. Growth decides. One keeps options open, the other closes the door and walks forward no matter the cost.

Here’s the shift that changes everything. Eliminate the word “trying” from your vocabulary. Not reduce it, eliminate it. Replace it with truth. Say “I’m doing it,” or “I’m not doing it,” or “I failed, but I’m back at it.” That’s it. Clean, direct, no escape hatch. Because clarity forces accountability. When you say “I’m doing it,” you’ve made a decision. When you say “I’m not doing it,” you’ve told the truth. When you say “I failed,” you’ve owned it. But when you say “I’m trying,” you’ve left the door open for everything, including staying exactly where you are.

This isn’t just about language, it’s about trajectory. If you stay in “trying,” you drift. You feel busy but unproductive, motivated but unchanged, like you’re making progress while nothing in your life actually reflects it. Months pass. Years pass. And one day you realize you’ve been trying the same things for a decade with the same results. That’s not growth, that’s stagnation with better branding. “Trying” will let you waste your life in slow motion, not in some dramatic collapse, but in quiet, acceptable mediocrity that feels like effort.

At some point you have to stop negotiating and decide who you are. Not who you want to be, not who you say you are, not who you try to be, but who you actually are based on what you do consistently. Because your habits are your identity, not your intentions, not your plans, not your words, your actions. So if you want to change your life, stop trying to become someone new and start acting like someone new. Decide, then align your behavior with that decision daily, consistently, relentlessly.

“Trying” is slow poison. It numbs conviction, delays decisions, and keeps you comfortable while convincing you you’re progressing. It’s the perfect word for people who want change without cost. But real growth doesn’t care about your comfort. It demands a decision, it demands action, it demands repetition. So stop trying. Decide who you are, and then prove it with what you do when nobody’s watching until your life looks nothing like the one you’re trying to escape.