There is a version of me who still thinks the answer to everything is:
“Be more disciplined. Work harder. Fix yourself.”
That version wakes up, makes a beautiful colour-coded plan, then ghosts it by 3 p.m., and finishes the day with a quiet, mean sentence:
“You had one job.”
Lately, I’ve started seeing how expensive that sentence is. Not in time. In energy, creativity, courage. The real currency of a 0.1% life is not hours or tasks. It is pace, emotional range, enjoyment, and how I relate to time.
This is the cheat sheet I wish someone had handed me a decade ago.
1. The Ship Has To Move
My old rule:
“Start once everything is clear.”
New rule:
“Start when 20% is clear and learn the other 80% in motion.”
When I obsess over getting it right, nothing moves. I research, outline, compare tools, watch “just one more” video, open ten tabs on “best way to do X”. It feels productive. It is disguised paralysis.
Momentum does something planning never can. Once I ship even a tiny, ugly version, the world answers. I get reactions, feedback, data. I see what lands, what dies, what hurts. That information does not exist in my head. It lives on the other side of action.
It is much easier to steer a moving ship than a perfectly docked one.
Top 10–20% play the perfection game.
Top 0.1% play the iteration game.
My new standard:
Did I move it forward today, even slightly?
If yes, that beats any “perfect” plan left untouched.
2. It’s Never The Failure, It’s The Feeling
When I trace my resistance to taking bold action, it rarely ends at “What if I fail?”
If I am honest, it ends at:
“What if I feel unbearable shame, embarrassment, rejection?”
My brain is designed to protect me from that internal storm. It treats emotional pain like a poisonous berry. Touch once, avoid forever. Great wiring when lions are chasing you. Terrible wiring when you want to launch a new project, end a relationship, or change careers.
Here is the uncomfortable insight:
I am not actually afraid of outcomes.
I am afraid of sensations.
Tight chest. Hot face. Hollow stomach. Heavy throat.
That is what I am running from. Not the email, not the launch, not the conversation.
The day I stopped demonising feelings and started studying them, things shifted.
When sadness comes, I can decide to fully let it in.
Not “manage” it. Experience it.
Cry in the shower. Put on a song that matches it. Let the wave peak and fall.
The suffering multiplies when I refuse the wave and fight it mid-ocean.
It softens when I surf it.
Every emotion carries a note:
- Anger often points to a boundary.
- Anxiety often points to neglected self-care.
- Sadness often points to an identity I need to update.
The sooner I feel the feeling, the faster I get the message.
The faster I get the message, the clearer my next move becomes.
Most of my “logical problems” are emotional messages written in a language I refused to read.
3. Curiosity Over Control
When I am stuck on a decision for months, it is never because I need another spreadsheet.
It usually means there is one emotion I refuse to meet.
Instead of adding more pros/cons, now I pause and switch modes. From control to curiosity.
Not curiosity that hunts for an answer.
Curiosity that just wants to see.
Where does this sit in my body?
Is it heavy or sharp?
Does it move when I breathe?
What memory or story lights up when I stay with it?
I treat it like a child holding a strange frog, turning it gently in her hands. Not judging, just fascinated.
This “wonder mode” does two quiet miracles:
- The feeling loses its monster status. It becomes a pattern of sensations.
- The next step starts to feel obvious instead of heroic.
Indecision is usually not a sign that I need more thinking.
It is a sign that I owe one feeling my full attention.
4. Enjoyment Is Not A Luxury, It Is Efficiency
I grew up equating productivity with speed.
“How much did you finish today?”
Now I care more about fuel than speed.
Two people can finish the same task in an hour.
One ends energised, one ends wrecked.
They did not pay the same cost.
Enjoyment is clean fuel. Guilt, force, and anxiety are dirty fuel.
When I enjoy the work, I reuse the energy.
The task feeds me instead of draining me.
I want to return to it tomorrow. I think more creatively. I take the extra step that turns “good” into “memorable”.
When I grind through it with clenched teeth, I finish, but I secretly train myself to hate the whole area. Then I procrastinate next time, because my body now tags it as danger.
A tiny experiment I run often:
“How can I make this 10% more fun or meaningful?”
- Change the environment.
- Add music.
- Turn it into a timed game.
- Share it with someone.
- Tie it to a value I care about.
That 10% shift compounds. The work becomes a place I want to visit, not a prison I escape from.
If joy is the sail and effort is the oar, I want both. Only rowing is how you burn out in the middle of the ocean.
5. The Violence Hidden In “Should”
“Should” sounds harmless.
“I should work out.”
“I should post.”
“I should call.”
Underneath that soft word sits a very rude boss.
The type who stands over your shoulder all day, pointing and nagging.
Every time I tell myself “You should”, my body subtly braces. My shoulders rise, breath shortens, energy dips. It feels like obligation, not choice.
There is a simple experiment that exposes this:
Say “I should do X” repeatedly.
Then switch to “I want to do X” repeatedly.
The second line wakes up a different part of me. It may not turn into action instantly, but it connects me with desire, not guilt. Desire has its own momentum.
Beneath almost every “should” there is a clean want:
“I should work out” hides “I want to feel strong and pain-free.”
“I should save money” hides “I want to feel safe and spacious.”
“I should be there for my family” hides “I want nourishing relationships.”
Once I contact the want, new pathways appear.
There are many ways to feel strong that do not involve a gym I hate.
Many ways to feel close to family that do not involve every draining obligation.
Duty without desire breeds quiet resentment.
Desire without duty can become selfish.
The game I am learning to play is different:
Act from want, not from guilt.
If the want is not accessible yet, work on the relationship, not the calendar.
“Should” is a motivational black hole; it swallows energy and spits out shame.
6. Time As Employee, Not Master
Most days, my default setting says, “There is not enough time.”
That belief creates a whole personality: rushed, scattered, constantly behind, judging every minute. A life run by time-poverty thinking looks busy and feels brittle.
The people I quietly study who play at a higher level move differently. They plant seeds. They think in arcs, not days.
Their questions sound like:
- What can I do this month that will still pay off five years from now?
- Which skill, if I improved it, would make most of my current problems irrelevant?
- Which one action will delete ten tasks from my list?
They invest in unfair advantages: emotional literacy, deep work, clear communication, unique skills. Those investments compound while everyone else is glued to the urgent notification of the week.
I am training a new default:
Time works for me.
That does not mean I drift. It means I pick work that compounds. I accept that some payoffs are delayed. I drop the addiction to ticking boxes just for the dopamine hit of “done”.
Rushing through five shallow meetings is not the same as making one deep decision that removes the need for ten meetings.
Slow is not the enemy of fast.
Slow and steady is how fast becomes sustainable.
7. A Different Kind Of Ambition
I still care strongly regarding success: money, health, impact, freedom.
The difference is in the engine I want to run on.
Not endless self-criticism.
Not fear disguised as over-planning.
Not a schedule built on “shoulds” and time panic.
I want:
- Pace over perfection. Ship early, learn fast.
- Courage to feel every emotion my life invites.
- Curiosity when I am stuck instead of control theatrics.
- Enjoyment as my efficiency metric.
- Language that honours choice more than obligation.
- Time that compounds instead of chases me.
If any of this resonates, here is a simple starting point I use with myself:
Next time you stall on something important, do three things:
- Take one tiny imperfect action within 24 hours.
- Sit for five minutes and feel the emotion that action stirs up, like a scientist, not a judge.
- Ask: “How can I make the next step 10% more enjoyable?”
That is not a life hack.
That is a different game.
Not success at any cost.
Success with your nervous system, your relationships, your creativity still intact.
Success where you do not just reach the mountain, you actually like who you became on the way up.
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