So now, when I want to set a goal for myself—whether it’s writing a book, improving my health, deepening my spiritual life, or learning something new—I begin with self-reflection. I ask myself the hard questions: Where am I right now? What does my daily life really look like? What are my limitations—not just in time or resources, but emotionally and mentally, too?
For example, when I wanted to write my fourth book, Just Juiced It… And Pulped It Up!, I was excited but also overwhelmed. I had family responsibilities, work commitments, and life wasn’t exactly “quiet” or “ideal” for writing. But I knew this project mattered to me. So I asked myself: What’s the most manageable way I can move toward this goal without losing balance in the rest of my life?
Instead of saying, “I’ll finish this in two months!” (which would’ve been unrealistic), I broke it down: one chapter per week. I wrote in the mornings when the house was still quiet, even if it was just for 30 minutes. I made peace with slow progress, and that mindset helped me actually enjoy the process. I didn’t dread it. I wasn’t chasing perfection or unrealistic timelines—I was just showing up, consistently, in a way that worked for me.
That’s one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned: a goal doesn’t have to be fast or flashy to be successful. It just has to fit your life, your season, and your energy.
Something that’s helped me is using the SMART framework: Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, and Time-bound. I used to hate structures like this because I felt they boxed me in. But now, I realize they don’t limit me—they help clarify my intentions. For example, when I decided to improve my fitness after my uncle passed away (he was a long-time blood donor, and I wanted to honour his legacy by taking better care of myself), I didn’t just say, “I want to be healthy.” I got specific. I said, “I want to walk or jog for 30 minutes every weekday morning before work, for the next three months.” That made it measurable and time-bound. I had a clear direction.
Of course, not every day goes according to plan. Life throws curveballs. There are mornings when the weather doesn’t cooperate, or my energy is low, or something urgent comes up. In the past, those interruptions would derail me. I’d give up entirely, convinced I’d “ruined” the streak. Now, I give myself grace. I remind myself that consistency is about patterns, not perfection. One off day isn’t failure—it’s life. The important thing is to come back the next day.
Another shift that helped me is breaking goals down into smaller steps. I used to underestimate how powerful it is to celebrate small wins. But they really do matter. When I launched my first book, it wasn’t because I suddenly wrote 40,000 words in one go. It was the little decisions: researching one topic, writing 500 words a day, editing one chapter a week. Small steps add up, and they build momentum in a way that feels satisfying, not overwhelming.
I’ve also learned the value of accountability—not in a rigid, pressure-filled way, but in a supportive one. I’ve shared my goals with people I trust: my mum, my kids, my closest friends. Sometimes I’d even post about them on social media, not for praise, but just to say, “Hey, I’m doing this thing. Cheer me on.” That sense of community helps more than I can express. When people check in, or say “I see you,” it keeps me going, especially on the hard days.
One of the most powerful motivators, though, is knowing why I want to achieve something. Whenever I feel like quitting, I return to my “why.” Why does this goal matter to me? Who will it benefit? What version of me am I building toward?
When I started donating blood regularly, it wasn’t just about health. It was about legacy. My uncle Zavier donated more than 70 times, and I just received my bronze award for 25 donations. I want to honour him. That “why” keeps me showing up, even when I’m nervous about needles or tired from work. The purpose behind the goal gives it weight and meaning.
And finally, I’ve learned to stop comparing my journey to anyone else’s. It’s easy to scroll through Instagram or hear about someone’s achievements and feel like I’m falling behind. But I remind myself: this is my path. My pace. My circumstances. My growth. What works for someone else might not work for me, and that’s okay. There’s strength in walking your own path with intention and grace.
So, how do I set realistic and achievable goals now? I start with honesty. I stay grounded in my reality. I break things down, take it slow, and track my progress. I ask for support when I need it, and I celebrate small wins. Most importantly, I make sure my goals align with who I am and who I want to become.
Goal setting isn’t just about what I want to do—it’s about how I want to live. And when my goals are realistic and achievable, they don’t feel like pressure. They feel like promises I’m keeping to myself, one step at a time.
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