Let me tell you what consistency does to you.

And even though you know the road, even though it’s not as scary anymore, you still notice things you didn’t before. A new shop opened up. A tree you’d never really looked at.

Photo by Mantas Hesthaven on Unsplash

The first time you travel on a new road, it feels like a journey you will never forget. It is long, harsh, and often feels like a stretch of uncertainty that has no clear end. The bends feel aggressively unnecessary, the road stretches unendingly, and the bumps feel like they have a personal vendetta, and everything looks unfamiliar. Even the trees just wave at you, standing as witnesses to something you’re too new to understand. Every sight and sound feels like a welcome and a goodbye at the same time.

The second time you travel? Still the same. Still strange. But you recognize one or two things: the crooked signboard, the fruit seller under the same faded umbrella, and the building with the faded purple gate. You now have some memory, but it still feels far. The third time, the same. The fourth time, a little easier. But it won’t be until the sixth or seventh time that the fear stops holding your hand. That’s when you can truly drive without checking the map.

You don’t panic when a sharp corner appears. You have seen it before. In Psychology, we call this a certain kind of conditioning, attribution theory, your body members. By then, your mind stops treating the road like an enemy. That’s what consistency does.

It is not immediate. Gradually. Steadily. One day, you wake up and realize you’re not afraid of the road anymore. You’re not overthinking every STOP. You’re not waiting for the sky to fall every time something shifts. You’re moving. You’re flowing. You’re adapting.

At this point, you do not need a motivational quote to tell you you’ll be fine—you know it from memory. You’ve seen it happen. You’ve watched the sun rise again after every bad day. You’ve watched your heart expand after being stretched. You’ve watched yourself get up from the floor after thinking, “This is it—I’m done, I am going to die here.”

And even though you know the road, even though it’s not as scary anymore, you still notice things you didn’t before. A new shop opened up. A tree you’d never really looked at. A patch of sky that suddenly looks blue enough to make you pause.

That’s the thing: familiarity doesn’t erase discovery. Only because you now know the way doesn’t mean you cannot be surprised from time to time. You can know a thing and still find wonder in it. You can be consistent and still be surprised. But the fear? It doesn’t scream in your face the same way it used to.

And the same is true for life.
For new jobs.
For launching that idea.
For starting over.
For choosing love again.
For walking away.
For reintroducing yourself.
For healing.
For praying again after seasons of silence and absence from your God. At first, it’s all so much. Too vast. Too risky. You don’t trust it. You don’t trust you. You don’t know if you’ll make it through or if you’ll crash mid-journey. And that’s valid. But stay with it.

Consistency is not bold at all. In fact, to me, it shows up like that shaky voice scared to tell me to still push and apply. Sometimes it’s quiet faith. Sometimes it’s a tired yes, abeg let’s just do it and get on with it. Sometimes it’s shaky obedience. But every single time, it moves you.

And eventually, your system adjusts.
You don’t spiral as often.
You don’t panic as easily.
You don’t stay down for long.

Because you've seen the road seven times now.
You remember. You trust the process.

Even though you know it doesn’t guarantee you’ll arrive safely every time, you trust that you’re better equipped. You understand that life isn’t predictable, but you can become stable. And that changes everything. So, consistency is learning to become better equipped at doing life, doing your job, sharpening your talent, and staying true to you, even when the disappointments won’t stop coming.

You will still get let down.
You will still experience some form of betrayal.
You will still look in the mirror sometimes and wonder what you're doing with your life.
You will still lose people you never thought would leave.

But you will also grow.
You will also form deeper bonds with those who stay.
You will also heal in real, tangible ways.
You will also laugh unexpectedly again.
You will also wake up one day and realize you’ve become the kind of person you used to pray to meet.

That’s the gift of showing up.
That’s what consistency does.

It teaches your nervous system that everything doesn’t have to be perfect to be safe.
That you can keep going even when your confidence doesn’t arrive at the same time.
That you’re not defined by how glamorous the journey looks, but by how true to your values you’ve been.

And yes, there will be seasons where you wonder if it’s even worth it.
Where everything feels average.
Where you truly, truly feel average.

Mediocre.
Forgettable.
Unremarkable.

But one thing I have realized is that even mediocrity, when aligned, when rooted in why, gets celebrated in time.

A consistent “average” effort will outperform a chaotic burst of brilliance every single time. Because it’s not about how loud you are, how shiny you are, how perfect you look, it’s about whether you can stay with it.
Can you trust the road?
Can you find joy in the process?
Can you keep learning even when there’s no applause?
Can you remember that alignment is the real flex, not aesthetics?

There is such a thing as quiet success.
There is such a thing as an unspectacular breakthrough.
There is such a thing as invisible progress that eventually blooms into a life that makes sense.

And when you get there, when you arrive, you won’t even care how long it took.
You’ll just be glad you didn’t stop. That you didn’t let fear bully you into turning back.
That you didn’t give up on yourself when everything felt pointless. So if you’re in a new season right now, if you're switching things up, stepping into unfamiliar territory, daring to believe again, trust the road.

Yes, it feels far. Yes, it feels vague. Yes, it feels scary.

But keep going.
Keep showing up.
Keep collecting memories.

Your system will adjust.
Your mind will catch up.
Your confidence will anchor.

And even when you doubt, when you feel like maybe you’re just average or perhaps the journey isn’t working, just say, “And so what, even average people doing aligned things with consistency win hard.

So don’t worry, boo. You’re still on the road. You will arrive one day, and I pray that it may end well for you. Even if it doesn’t feel like it today, tomorrow, or even this year, 2025.

May it will end well for you.

Thank you for reading.