Hey there and I’m Christian Robicheau kicking off November with a really insightful editorial from our president Donna J. Jodhan.
Today, Donna focuses her sights on when we are unable to act.
Give this one a read and tell Donna your thoughts.
Write to her at donnajodhan@sterlingcreations.ca.
Enjoy your first weekend of November
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When We Are Unable To Act
By Donna J. Jodhan
There are moments in life, both private and public, when we find ourselves paralyzed. A wrong unfolds before us, a need cries out for a response, a moment demands courage — and we do nothing. Not because we are indifferent. Not because we do not care. But because we are unable to act.
Why does this happen?
Sometimes, it is fear. Fear of consequences, of judgment, of failure. Speaking up might cost us relationships, jobs, safety, or peace. So we weigh the risks — and the scales tip toward silence. At other times, we find ourselves unsure of what to say or do. The complexity of the situation overwhelms us, and we retreat into the comfort of inaction, hoping that clarity — or someone else — will come.
Then there are times when it feels simply out of our hands. The systems are too vast, the authorities too distant, the damage already done. We shrink under the weight of a problem bigger than any one individual, and in that shrinking, we convince ourselves that our voice would make no difference.
But to be unable to act is not always the same as being unwilling. This distinction matters. For many, the paralysis of inaction is deeply painful — a source of guilt, regret, and rumination. We replay the moment, wondering what we could have done differently, longing for a second chance we may never get.
What if, instead of judging ourselves harshly, we asked better questions? What would it take to be ready next time? Who could we align with now, so we’re not alone when the next choice comes? What skills or courage do we need to build before the next critical moment arrives?
Action is not born in the heat of a moment; it is cultivated in the quiet before it.
We may be unable to act today — but that does not mean we always will be.
I’d like to leave you with this for your consideration.
In a dim, dust-laden room, a marionette hangs midair, tangled in its own strings. Its wooden limbs are poised in a half-step, as if caught mid-dance—but motionless, suspended in frustration. Shafts of light filter through cracks in boarded-up windows, casting long, skeletal shadows across the floor. Behind the puppet, a forgotten control bar lies on a table, out of reach, collecting cobwebs. Dust motes drift lazily through the air, indifferent to the still figure below. The silence is palpable—an echo of a performance that never began, or one that stopped too soon.
Image = A minimalist illustration shows a red stick-figure-style person against a light pink background, with black vertical strings attached to the figure’s limbs and head, suggesting the person is being controlled like a puppet.
To learn more about me as an award winning sight loss coach and advocate visit www.donnajodhan.com
