How Many Dreams Die Waiting for the ‘Right Time’?

….and Why Does Patience Feel So Much Like Doing Nothing?

There’s something strangely addictive about waiting.

We say we’re being patient, that we’re trusting the process, that timing is everything but deep down, a part of us knows the truth: we’re stalling. We’re not actually waiting for the right moment… we’re waiting for our fear to disappear. And while we wait, life moves. The clock ticks. People pass us by. And the dreams we once held tightly in our hands begin to slip quietly into the background.

We don’t talk about this enough. That limbo feeling. That space between “I want this” and “I’m scared to go get it.” It’s a lonely place. Because on the outside, you might look calm, composed, even strategic. People might praise you for “thinking it through” or “playing it safe.” But on the inside, you know you’re not being still, you’re being stuck.

We’ve somehow made it noble to be patient. We wear it like a badge. And sometimes, yes, patience is powerful. But other times, it’s just fear dressed up in wise words. We call it timing, but it’s really hesitation. We call it discernment, but it’s really doubt. And when we keep waiting for the “perfect” moment to come, what we’re really saying is, “I don’t trust myself enough to begin in this messy, unsure place.”

But here’s the thing: life has never waited for you to feel ready.

Read that again.

Life is not a GPS that recalculates every time you miss a turn. Sometimes, if you sit too long at the light, the road you were meant to take disappears. And yet… we keep sitting. We keep praying for signs, watching motivational videos, planning perfect steps on paper, even manifesting our futures on vision boards but we don’t move. Because movement would mean facing what scares us. Starting would mean risking disappointment. And we’d rather feel safely stuck than dangerously vulnerable.

But there’s danger in stillness too. Quiet danger. The kind that doesn’t yell or bang on your door. The kind that gently rocks you to sleep with excuses until you wake up one day and wonder where your time went. Not in failure. Not in rejection. But in waiting. Endless waiting.

And it’s subtle, this kind of waiting. It makes you feel like you’re doing something when you’re really just avoiding everything. You look busy. You talk big. You even convince yourself that this is part of the process. That you’re “preparing.” That you’re “just not ready yet.” But there’s a fine line between preparing and procrastinating and we cross it every time we choose comfort over courage.

I’ve done it too.

I’ve had dreams I held onto so tightly they suffocated. Not because they weren’t good. Not because they weren’t worth pursuing. But because I was too obsessed with doing them right. I wanted the entrance to be grand, the plan to be perfect, the outcome to be guaranteed. And while I waited for that magical moment, life happened. People moved. Opportunities faded. And my dreams sat untouched in the quiet corners of my mind, gathering dust.

Let’s not pretend that waiting is always spiritual. Sometimes it’s just emotional avoidance. Sometimes we wait because we’re afraid we won’t measure up. Sometimes we wait because starting means letting go of the fantasy and facing the work. And sometimes… we wait because it gives us something to blame. Because if we never start, then we never fail. We never disappoint. We never risk looking foolish. But what a sad trade-off that is safety in exchange for significance.

Patience without movement is not peace. It’s paralysis.

And no, I’m not saying rush everything. I’m not saying ignore timing or wisdom or stillness. I’m saying feel your fear and move anyway. Do it scared. Do it uncertain. Start small. Fail awkwardly. Cry if you must. But move. Don’t sit in that silent place forever, calling it growth when it’s really just grief in slow motion.

The world doesn’t need your perfect version. It needs your present one. It needs your messy attempt. Your voice, trembling as it speaks. Your feet, wobbling as they take the first step. Because that’s real. That’s powerful. And that’s where everything begins not in some distant, polished moment but right here, in the now, in the chaos, in the real.

You don’t need a sign.
You don’t need to feel ready.
You don’t need a master plan.

You need to believe that starting imperfectly is better than not starting at all. Because if you keep waiting for the “right time,” you might spend your whole life in rehearsal. And that’s no way to live.

So ask yourself:

What am I really waiting for?
And is it worth the time I’m losing?

Because patience without purpose becomes a prison. And your dreams, those sacred, burning visions deserve to breathe. Not one day. Not later. Now.

Let them.