The Big Fat Super Secret Secret To Motivation
Fuck it. Fuck motivation. That’s it — that’s the secret. Why?
Because “I don’t feel like it” isn’t a reason.
Sort of. Fuck motivation as you know it.
Somewhere along the line of human history, long after we only ate what we killed and gathered, we started thinking of motivation as a feeling — one that must preclude any action that doesn’t give us immediate satisfaction.
But motivation isn’t a feeling — it’s a state. And it’s not in the before — it’s in the after.
Don’t get us wrong – the sweet, sweet alignment of the internal drive with the external satisfaction of doing the thing feels fucking great, chefs kiss, morepleaseandthankyou and all that.
Motivation — the feeling of motivation — is a fleeting, fickle bitch. At Vulgar Advice, we subscribe to the belief that action begets action. You’ll rarely regret going to the gym, writing the email, finishing the project, booking the session, or staying just a little longer. And each time you do, you’ll know for next time that it feels good and gets you one step closer.
Your goals, dreams, and the life you want are the accumulation of all the times you decided to do it, even though you didn’t feel like it.
In the pursuit of a life that doesn’t make you dogshit miserable, you’ll feel frustrated. You’ll feel tired. You’ll feel… un-fucking-motivated.
Getting your shit together takes a long ass time. It’s hard, and there will be many, many moments when you don’t want to do the thing — when you would rather do anything but the thing. Build the muscle of doing it anyway.
The road to living a life that means something is paved with mundane shit. It’s the small but bright moments that gleam from the horizon, telling you to keep going, that someday, you will find yourself on the other side of that horizon.
What you need to ultimately do is show the fuck up for yourself. That means “I don’t feel like it” is not a reason.
If you indulge yourself whenever you “don’t feel like it,” you’re limiting yourself.
Most of us rarely feel like going for a run, putting in extra time to finish a project we committed to, parenting, cooking for ourselves, or taking the dog out at the end of a long day. It’s good for your mental well-being to show up for yourself and others.
If you feel that itch to let yourself off the hook of a commitment you made to yourself or someone else, ask why.
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If your answer is, “I don’t feel safe,” “It is not the best use of my energy right now,” or “My body is asking me for rest,” then listen.
If the answer is, “I don’t feel like it,” suck it the fuck up.
You will never regret showing up for yourself.
But, someday, you’ll be on your deathbed. Or you’ll see a semi-truck barreling straight toward you. Or you’ll slip on a glob of shampoo in the shower. And for a few moments — right before you kick that damn bucket, before the semi-truck turns you into a human pancake, before you crack your skull on the edge of the bathtub — you’ll think, “Fuck. I wish I did that thing that I always put off.”
We’re not religious here at Vulgar Advice. The only dogma we subscribe to when it comes to matters of the spirit is, “Who the fuck knows.” But when we imagine our last moments, right before our brain explodes into the great unknown, the idea of knowing without a doubt that we showed the fuck up for life, for ourselves, for others, for the shit that matters, sounds like heaven.
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