The Problem With Motivation

Reflections

Jun 17

Written By Erin M

Humans are fascinating.

It never ceases to amaze me that despite knowing what would likely make our lives healthier, happier, and more fulfilling, we often choose not to do those very things. We know we'd probably feel better if we exercised regularly. We know we'd benefit from better sleep, less scrolling, healthier food, more connection, and more time outside. Most of us already know the things that would improve our lives, yet there is often a surprising gap between what we know and what we actually do.

My understanding of this phenomenon comes down to our relationship with immediate gratification. We feel like doing something, so we do it. We don't feel like doing something, so we don't. But the problem is that life is not lived in isolated moments. Life is lived in patterns. One evening of doom scrolling doesn't matter very much. One skipped workout doesn't matter very much. One difficult conversation avoided, one boundary not set, one unhealthy choice—none of these things are particularly significant on their own. But patterns matter, weeks matter, and years matter and eventually, our lives become the cumulative result of our repeated choices.

After years of sitting across from people and listening to them tell me their life stories, I have noticed that many of us have been sold a misunderstanding about change. We have been taught that to make a change, we need to be motivated before we can take action. And the result of that idea has led us to believe that if we don't feel like doing something, then perhaps we shouldn't do it.

But I don't think that's how change works at all.

People often tell me they don't have the motivation to go to the gym, start therapy, eat differently, set boundaries, or make the changes they know would benefit them.

When they say this, I tell them, “Remove the word motivation from your vocabulary.” Because guess what? Motivation is rarely where change begins. If you've never exercised consistently, you're probably not going to wake up one morning more excited than ever before to go to the gym. More likely, you're going to think, "I don't want to go." You're going to think about how comfortable your couch is, how tired you are, and how tomorrow would be a much better day to start going to the gym.

That moment is exactly where discipline enters the conversation. And if you truly want change- lead with discipline. Not motivation.

Most people think discipline is doing something consistently. That’s not what discipline is. Discipline is doing something consistently, especially and most of all, when you don't want to. Read that part again- when you don’t actually want to. That, is the definition of discipline.

Discipline is choosing the workout when your couch is calling your name. It's putting your phone down when every part of you wants to keep scrolling. It's having the difficult conversation you'd rather avoid. It's going to therapy when part of you would rather distract yourself. It's acting in service of your long-term well-being rather than your most immediate momentary feeling.

Many of the things that improve our lives arrive in the package of not wanting to do them. In fact, I would argue that most meaningful growth begins there.

I go to the gym regularly because I know how important it is for my mental and physical health. But if I'm being honest, I spend a good portion of the week trying to talk myself out of going. I've been exercising since my twenties, and my mind still presents me with reasons and excuses, and alternative plans. It still tells me I'm tired. It still tells me I can skip a day. My mind and my current mood state, left to its own devices, is dangerous. Discipline is hearing all of that noise and going anyway. Which I do- most of the time.

Like the Buddhists preach, I practice mastering my mind, and the interesting thing is that after you've done this enough times, your mastery strengthens and you outbeat the noise that is trying to stop you. When you win that battle, you feel better, your mood improves and your anxiety decreases. You have more energy. Your life works better. And eventually, guess what shows up?

Motivation. Not at the beginning. At the end.

This is where I think we've gotten it backwards. We tend to believe that motivation creates action. But that is misguided. Action creates motivation. Once you've accumulated enough evidence that something is improving your life, you naturally become more motivated to continue. You remember how much better you felt after the workout or how much calmer your week was when you spent less time scrolling.

Motivation is often the byproduct of action, not the prerequisite for it.

And while motivation is great, it's wise to know that it can be fleeting, no matter how much positive feedback we get. Motivation comes and goes.

Some days you'll have it. Many days you won't. If your life is built around only doing things when you feel like doing them, your growth will always be limited by your mood. And I don’t know about you, but my moods can be temperamental.

What makes this particularly relevant to me as a therapist is that many of the most powerful interventions for mental health are either free or relatively accessible, yet they are often the very things people resist the most.

Exercise. Sleep. Time outside. Meaningful social connection. Less alcohol. Less scrolling. More movement. None of these are particularly glamorous. None of them promise instant transformation. Yet the research supporting them is irrefutable, particularly when it comes to depression, anxiety, stress, and overall well-being. And when I mean irrefutable, go look up the correlation between depression and regular physical exercise. Research shows you can decrease depressive symptoms by 25%, simply walking for two and half hours a week.

Now of course I am not suggesting that exercise replaces therapy or medication. What I am suggesting is that we often underestimate how much influence our daily behaviours have over our emotional well-being. And the irony is that many of the things that could help reduce our suffering are often the very things we least feel like doing when we are suffering. That does make sense…AND do them anyway, because when we are struggling, our mood gets in the way of seeing clearly what could help us. There are circumstances that no amount of discipline can fix. But even within those realities, there is often something available to us. And what concerns me is that many of us have become overly dependent on our feelings when deciding how to act. We have elevated our momentary emotional state to the position of decision-maker. But our feelings are often poor predictors of what will actually serve us in the long run.

If I listened exclusively to my feelings, I would skip most of my workouts.

I would avoid difficult conversations. I would stay comfortable. In the moment, those choices would feel good. But over months and years, they would slowly move my life away from the person I want to be.

This idea about discipline isn't particularly new. Long before social media, self-help books, and productivity culture, the Stoics were wrestling with the same problem. They understood that feelings are real, but they are not always wise. They believed that a meaningful life was built not by chasing comfort or avoiding discomfort, but by acting in accordance with one's values and principles, regardless of how one happened to feel in the moment.

For the Stoics, discipline wasn't punishment. It wasn't self-denial. It was self-governance. It was the ability to choose what is right over what is easy, what is meaningful over what is immediately pleasurable, and what serves your future self over what provides immediate relief. In many ways, the Stoics recognized that freedom is not the ability to do whatever we feel like doing. Freedom is the ability to choose our actions even when our feelings are pulling us somewhere else.

That is discipline.

So, perhaps discipline has been misunderstood all along.

It isn't punishment. It certainly isn't perfection. It isn't forcing yourself to suffer for the sake of suffering. Discipline is simply the willingness to act in service of what matters most, even when part of you would rather not. Part of becoming an adult is recognizing that "I don't want to" and "I shouldn't do it" are not the same thing. Adulthood requires learning that feelings and values are not always aligned. The ability to tolerate that tension, and to choose according to your values rather than your momentary desires, is one of the most important skills we can develop.