I had everything I needed.
All the bank statements from 20XX through to the client’s merger. Every transaction extracted and checked. Receipts and invoices grouped by year. A clean chart of accounts. A structured reference system for every piece of evidence.
On paper, I was ready.
And yet… I couldn’t start.
Not properly.
I would look at the work, think about doing it, even plan how I would approach it – and then quietly not begin. Or start, drift, and stop again.
It didn’t make sense.
This is exactly the kind of work I do.
Detail-oriented. Structured. Logical.
So why the resistance?
For a while, I told myself it was about time, or energy, or needing to “set things up properly” first.
But that wasn’t it.
The real issue was much simpler – and much more subtle.
The task wasn’t clear enough to start.
“Do the client’s books” sounds like a task. It isn’t. It’s a container for dozens of smaller, undefined steps. And it’s missing a clear picture of what the end looks like – and one that doesn’t suggest a quantum leap from here to there… my brain instinctively knows that a step that isn’t explicitly doable in some safety and comfort is likely to be neither… to be avoided – for now…
And my brain doesn’t start well when the first step is unclear.
Add to that a few other ingredients:
– The work spans multiple years
– There are gaps and imperfections in the records
– There’s a quiet desire to get it right
– And no obvious finish line
Put all of that together, and what you get isn’t action.
You get friction.
Not loud, dramatic friction. Just enough to slow everything down.
Enough to make starting feel heavier than it should.
Enough to delay.
Enough to avoid, without quite admitting that’s what’s happening.
It turns out that knowing what to do is not the same as being able to start.
And that was the real problem I was dealing with.
So what did I do about it?
I stopped trying to “do the client’s books.”
Instead, I picked up a single bank statement.
One statement. Less than ten transactions.
I gave it a reference number, categorised each transaction, and marked it as complete.
That was it.
No grand plan. No perfect system. Just a small, defined unit of work with a clear finish line.
And something interesting happened.
Once the first statement was done, the second one felt easier to start.
Then the third.
Not because the work changed – but because the starting point was finally clear.
If you’re facing something similar, here’s a simple place to begin:
Don’t try to do the whole thing.
Pick one small, complete unit of work – something you can finish in one sitting – and do just that.
Clarity doesn’t always come before action.
Sometimes, it comes from it.