When starting a project with a steep learning curve or making a difficult decision in life, like, starting your own business or quitting your job, or getting married, paralysis and overwhelm can take a tight hold on the process.

The mind can take over with endless theorizing and little doing or starting.

Here are three things I do to break through the paralysis.

1. Commit to tiny steps. I set a

Having a deep bench of non-tech things to do when tempted by my gadgets has played a big role in finding my sweet spot with technology.

It’s an elusive sweet spot.

Here are some things I do —

Our workforce and work culture has permanently changed.

The advent of the internet started this trend a long time ago, and now it is has accelerated and solidified as the pandemic forced many to work from home, adopt and use new technology. Many were let go. Or maybe just decided, enough, and used the opportunity to find different work.

Those with more of a cushion and industrial spirit pivoted to starting their own gig.

As The Pandemic Recedes, Millions Of Workers Are Saying 'I Quit'

As many take the step, here are three U.S.-centric (ahem, capitalistic) work culture things to reconsider carrying over into your own gigs.

I have a hard time calling myself an entrepreneur.

Mainly because when I'm reading about "entrepreneurs," there seems to be a specific type that the media really speaks to - the one who went from bootstrapping to an IPO.

The fancy biz publications love a good founder story. Specifically, someone who had no pedigree and then made it.

It's easy to feel unseen as an entrepreneur when I compare myself to these stories.

But I am.

I sell things for a profit and assume all the responsibility that goes with that.

I am a specific type that happens to contribute $1.2 trillion to the economy. No joke.

We are a growing bunch of one-person empires.

The path to entrepreneurship is different for every person.

For me, I was restless as an employee. I had an excellent bare minimum: a decent salary, an expense account, a short commute, a profit-sharing plan, fun co-workers, a cool title, and the work didn’t kill the planet.

It felt selfish to want more than that, especially as a daughter of an immigrant.

But my heart kept chirping at me, like a smoke alarm with a dying battery.

If this is the rest of my life, am I okay with that?