Discipline is a word that I hear all the time. We all know that discipline is important. It is key for success in life. It’s practiced by everyone in one form or another, a concept that is part of civilization since the beginning of time. Since discipline is such a common idea, a practice so widespread, I must know what it is. Right?
Discipline for me is a familiar concept that I remember most confidently from childhood. I was always told by the adults in my life that I was a disciplined child who steered clear of trouble. I followed the rules and did everything that was expected of me. I was responsible and fulfilled all my duties without having to be asked twice. As an adult however, without the external pressure from my parents and teachers, I find that it is harder for me to practice self-discipline on my own.
The area that I struggle most with discipline is writing. When I think about writing, I marvel at the idea of being able to express my innermost thoughts in a way that is relatable to others. I’m excited by the notion that I can transform my personal experiences or perspectives into a universal message that connects with others, and ultimately touches their lives in a positive way. Being able to do this would be the most satisfying endeavor for me, yet there is a missing link between my deepest desire to write and me achieving it. And I know that my failure to write is not for a lack of time, but wholly my inability to sit down and commit to the writing.
So why can’t I put in the efforts to fulfill my dreams? Why does the idea of writing excite me, yet my initial motivations fail to translate into disciplined actions? For this post, I think it’s time that I reassess my knowledge of discipline, or rather my lack of knowledge of it.
After a quick Google inquiry, I learn that there’s a connection, but also a distinction, between motivation and discipline. Motivation is the initial flame that ignites excitement within us. It’s powerful yet fleeting because the high of the excitement also fades easily. Motivation is like that whimsical friend whose mood changes depending on the weather, the time of day or the circumstances. Although fun, it is unreliable during tough times for it’s known for retreating at the first sign of trouble.
I have to admit that this is different from my previous understanding of the concept. I mistakenly think that motivation is the main driver of change, an inner force so powerful that it allows us to overcome any obstacle that stands between us and the goal. However whenever I sit down to work, this theory falls apart as soon as I start to feel uncomfortable with my writing. Doubts creep in. And motivation is out the door. It flees the room as soon as it sees a scary challenge. With motivation gone, I’m left trying to remember why I want to write in the first place.
Building a new habit can be quite challenging for many of us. Not only writing, but many desirable habits such as exercising regularly, keeping a consistent sleep schedule, growing a career, or nurturing a relationship require dedication that lasts beyond the novelty of motivations. Maintaining a new habit, even though we know will be good for us, is usually uncomfortable. And unfortunately for us, our brain is naturally wired to resist what we feel is uncomfortable. A new habit is unfamiliar, we don’t always get the hang of it right away, and then there’s the ominous question of failure. Furthermore, most habits don’t yield immediate rewards for our sacrifices, forcing us to persevere even when gratification is withheld.
This is where discipline is supposed to shine. Like a responsible hero with self-control, discipline is here to prove that they have a strong sense of commitment. Discipline, as an approach, allows us to maintain consistency and adhere to rules even when we don’t feel like it. It is a habit-driven practice that allows us to develop a routine, improve our skills, overcome obstacles, and eventually complete the goals that we set. While motivation is temporary, discipline is a tool that sticks around long after motivation has wandered off.
So then, naturally I turn to the internet for answers on how to be disciplined. I am usually confronted with an overwhelming list of advice that goes something like this: set clear objectives, visualize success, break tasks into manageable steps, create a routine, eliminate distractions, prioritize, use positive reinforcement, find an accountability partner, cultivate self-awareness, learn from setbacks and on it goes. And if you’re anything like me, you’ll balk at the sight of these terrifying bullet points. Going through the list is unnerving for me. Why do the tips that are supposed to help get me started make me want to run away in the opposite direction instead?
These suggestions seem to be meant for individuals who are already skilled in utilizing the tools of discipline, but as someone who is approaching discipline from a place of hesitation, and is lacking in confidence to get started, I find these tips more intimidating than helpful.
Through further online exploration and introspection, I realize that this is actually one of the most common pitfalls that entrap us when we embark on a new project. We have the tendency to fall into the trap of premature optimization, where we want to try our best to optimize the process in order to guarantee a successful outcome. We research the best ways to tackle our project, prepare the best plans, and acquire all the best gadgets that we can think of even when the abilities that we’re trying to harness are still limited. For example, when learning to cook, we might be tempted to seek out professional equipments before mastering even the most basic cooking techniques.
I myself am currently guilty of such tendency. Having written a few posts on the blog, I find myself starting to feel annoyed at how infuriatingly slow I write. How will I ever succeed as a writer if I take twice, or thrice, as long as I should to finish an article? It’s that cynical voice of doubt again. An irrational desire to be the best, or nothing. Of course the truth is that I can still write even if it takes me much longer than I expect to do so. This just means that I need to be more diligent and allocate more time for my writing. The most important point is that being a slow writer doesn’t necessarily mean that I must stop writing.
It seems to me that the best approach to discipline then is not to aim for perfection. Does it matter that I can’t think of a way to use positive reinforcement to improve my discipline? And who even cares if I can’t choose the ideal version of success for my future right now? I think that even with unclear objectives, we are mostly likely better off starting the journey with flexible objectives than waiting until concrete ones are defined. Instead of focusing on achieving optimal results in our pursuits, perhaps we should treat our endeavors as an experiment to see how our actions align with results at different levels.
The second pitfall is that we tend to view consistency as a test, rather than a tool. My reoccurring weakness is that I try to do weekly check-ins and I never fail to get sidetracked after every few weeks. Something unexpected usually comes up that distracts me, I then forget to do the weekly recap on the designated day, and once I realize this a couple of days later, I would feel like a complete failure because of how bad I am at being consistent. It’s easy for us to fall into the mindset that treats consistency as a test where the winners are consistent, and losers are those who fail at being consistent.
This makes it harder for me to get back to doing the weekly check-ins because I would feel like it’s pointless to keep trying. Instead of viewing our shortcomings through the lens of judgement such as ‘I’ve failed so I’m a loser’, we should remind ourselves more often that consistency is not a test, but simply a powerful tool that we can use to get closer to achieving our goals.