Why You Quit on Day 3 (and Three Things That Keep Me Going)

I wrote this in March 2021.

The timeline of every project I’ve ever started

Day 1 and day 2: I’m on fire. Everything is exciting.

Day 3: suddenly there are so many reasons not to do it. Where were all these reasons on day 1?

One month in: a thought drifts by. Oh right, I was supposed to be doing that. It drifts right back out.

Two months in: my willpower is somewhere far away, and I don’t have the nerve to even look at the thing I’m supposed to be doing. I’m deep into Netflix for a while.

Month three: I peek back at my task, and it has turned into a terrifying beast, glaring at me.

So I pull myself together and promise to try again. And the whole cycle repeats.

Is my willpower the problem? I want to do it. I even start. So why can’t I keep going?

The problem: my brain is too smart

My theory? The problem is my head. It’s too smart.

My brain has already pictured me at the top of the mountain. Worse, it believes I’m basically there. So I’m standing at the trailhead, staring at the summit, and not moving.

But the summit only gets closer one step at a time. You step on the dirt, the rocks, the grass right in front of you. One foot. Then the other. Step, climb, step, climb. Over and over.

Even if where you’re standing isn’t the top, you’re definitely closer than you were.

So if I have a job to do, I crush it into dirt, rocks, and grass. Tiny pieces. I keep shrinking it until it’s the easiest possible thing I could do. Then I walk on it today, and again tomorrow.

That’s how you trick a smart brain.

Now, the three things that actually keep me going.

1. No plan is the plan

Before I worried about sticking with things, I decided to get good at starting them.

Let me show you how I used to start. First, I plan the day. Split it into morning, afternoon, and night. Order the tasks by importance, matched to when I focus best. Then schedule it all, down to the minute.

And then, after building this beautifully thorough, meticulous plan, I’d be completely wiped out. So I’d open YouTube to rest my brain for a bit. An hour or two would vanish, naturally.

So I quit planning at the start. My brain already knows what I need to do. I just don’t think, don’t plan, focus, and do it. I jot down only what I can’t afford to forget, then start right away.

I put 80% of my energy into the most important 20% of my tasks. That’s the famous Pareto Principle. And then I take it one step at a time.

2. Wanting freedom more than comfort

Why are we so thirsty for wealth? I could just live a normal life. So why does an ordinary job and an ordinary life bore me so much?

When I was young and anxious, I craved stability. Now that I have a stable life, doubts about life keep bubbling up. Maybe that’s just how it goes.

Every day is the same routine. And the longer it goes, the more I get the feeling I’ll never get out. Is that just me?

I only get one life. I want to do what I want, really freely, without anything holding me down.

The way I see it, a real rich person is a person with freedom. Freedom takes time, and money ties up your time. So if I want freedom, I have to solve the money that’s tying me down.

Life is way too short to spend it spinning in circles. I want to live like a five-year-old who finished all their homework and is running around without a care in the world. That feeling of being about to burst.

I know you and I will get there. Soon.

3. The memory of the one time I went all in

More than ten years ago, I prepared for an entrance exam. That memory is what keeps me going.

I’m an art-school guy. I got in by drawing. At the time I was working an office job, so transferring into art school was not an easy decision. I prepared for six months, short and intense, like a madman. Thankfully, I got both a good result and a good experience out of it. (Here’s that story.)

Embarrassing as it is to admit, I’m over 40 now (as of 2021) and I haven’t focused on anything that hard since.

What does it mean to pour 99% of your energy into one thing? It means spending 18 of your 24 hours completely absorbed in it. Or maybe all 24.

The pain I pushed through back then comes back to me now as medicine. I can’t put the situation or the feeling into a few words. But there’s something you only get by having done it.

So let’s try this. Pick a goal for a few months, push yourself to your absolute limit, and get through it. Whether you hit the goal or not, the experience will be a huge asset. Your choice, of course. But for a better you, I’m sure it’s a good one.

Life is short. No regrets. Right now, focus on the small, crushed-up pieces of your work. And if it starts to hurt, push through it, and become a freer version of yourself.

“If you are going through hell, keep going.” (attributed to Winston Churchill)

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