It’s strange.
When a man loses his drive, people call it laziness.
But that’s not what it is.
It’s grief.
Because the machine that once ran on goals, deadlines, and caffeine...
That machine died.
And what’s left is silence.
You open the same laptop, stare at the same dashboard, and the cursor blinks like it’s mocking you.
The same brain that used to make lightning now feels like wool.
Everyone says, “Find your why.”
But what if your why already died?
What if the man who chased it is buried right next to it?
You don’t need a new why.
You need a resurrection.
At first, I tried to fake it.
Podcasts.
Pre-workout.
Motivational reels.
Fapping.
Anything to feel something.
It worked for a few minutes -until it didn’t.
Because motivation is fuel for the man you used to be. The new man runs on something else.
But you can’t know that until you’ve exhausted every hack that used to work.
So I kept trying.
I kept “disciplining.” Kept “grinding.” Kept playing the old game, hoping it would magically start paying again.
It didn’t.
That’s when I realized...
I wasn’t being lazy. I was in mourning.
See, most men think losing motivation is failure.
It’s not.
It’s the mercy of God unplugging your power source before it kills you.
Because motivation feeds on adrenaline, and adrenaline feeds on fear -the fear of not being enough, not being admired, not being safe.
And when God wants to heal a man...
He first takes away the thing that kept him running on fumes.
So the business slows down.
The doors close.
The followers fade.
And the man panics.
He thinks it’s punishment.
It’s not.
It is detox.
I remember sitting in my car one day after another failed meeting. Hands gripping the wheel like it owed me something. I whispered...
“God, I’m done.”
And I meant it.
But then, somewhere in that surrender, a thought landed:
“Finally.”
Finally, He had nothing left to take. Finally, I had stopped pretending to be alive.
That was the real turning point. Not the money. Not the recovery.
Just the decision to stop performing for ghosts.
Motivation can’t resurrect you, my friend.
Only meaning can.
And meaning doesn’t scream -it whispers.
It comes slowly...quietly...like light through a cracked door.
You’ll find it again, but it won’t look like the old fire.
It won’t hype you.
It’ll anchor you.
And when you finally move again, you’ll realize it’s not motivation pulling you anymore -it’s conviction.
It’s faith.
Peace.
That’s when you start rebuilding for real.
That’s when the silence becomes strength.