There's an increasing pressure to be the most productive version of ourselves. To wake up early, stay disciplined, follow through, and build a life that looks intentional and impressive.

So we set goals. A lot of them. Some we reach. Many we don’t. And in the beginning, when the goal is new, we feel energized.

At first, everything feels possible. We make elaborate plans. We imagine the version of ourselves who follows through. Sometimes we even start strong, carried by that initial surge.

But like most feelings, it doesn’t last. That initial excitement fades. Then, the work starts to seem ordinary and repetitive. And because we’ve learned to associate taking action with feeling motivated, we slow down the moment that feeling of motivation disappears.

So, we do what we do best- procrastinate and hope another phase of motivation would come to our aid in good time. 

And that’s how motivation stops us from doing things.

Motivation is Why You Don't Do Things

Motivation is a feeling that makes action easier. 

When you feel motivated, doing something feels natural, almost obvious. You don’t have to push yourself very much because the desire is already there. It feels like the energy is carrying you forward. That’s why we value it so much. Because it removes, or at least reduces, the resistance to making an effort.

But motivation, again, like almost all feelings, is not stable. 

It rises when something feels new, exciting, urgent, or meaningful, and it falls when that feeling fades. 

Our brains get used to things quickly. So what felt inspiring at the beginning would no sooner than later become normal. And the previously exciting things become routine. 

The activity itself may still matter, but the emotional lift that once made the effort required to do them easy is no longer there.

Now, how exactly does motivation stop us from doing things? Dependence. 

When we depend on motivation, we unconsciously connect actions to our feelings. That means we act when we feel ready or inspired. 

So what happens when those feelings are absent, performing the action becomes difficult to justify. It starts to feel forced or unnatural. So we wait for the feeling to return. And sometimes it actually does. But for how long? 

This is why motivation can become a problem without us realizing it. 

It trains us to believe that action should feel good before we begin. Our emotional readiness eventually starts to seem like a requirement. 

But a lot of meaningful things in life are repetitive, slow, and sometimes boring. They don’t constantly produce strong feelings. And if the action required to carry out these meaningful things is dependent on emotional excitement, then consistency would become almost impossible.

In essence, motivation is perfect at helping us start things. It gives the initial push. It helps us change our direction, begin a habit, or move out of a period of inactivity. 

But it is not designed to carry us through long stretches of ordinary effort. The daily practice, routine work, and gradual improvement will not naturally create strong emotional highs. And they rely on something more stable than motivation.

So, What Now?

You stop waiting for motivation to decide whether something gets done.

You stop asking, Do I feel like doing this today? and start asking: Have I already decided that this matters? If you have, then the decision is no longer up for debate. Your mood may change, and your energy may fluctuate. 

But the decision you've already made remains.

Most of your inconsistency isn't necessarily laziness. It's the delay in taking the action. Every time you pause to reconsider, your feelings get a vote. And your feelings are unstable, and should not be relied upon all the time. 

So instead of deciding daily, you just decide once — and then you let that action become part of your routine rather than a fresh negotiation each morning.

Also, it's sensible to make the action smaller than your resistance. When something feels heavy, you need motivation to lift it.
But if it’s manageable, then you don’t need a surge of emotion. You just begin. Because a small, repeatable step doesn’t require inspiration, but rather requires willingness (which you will get from making the single decision as stated earlier).

And lastly, you stop interpreting discomfort as a warning sign. Effort doesn’t mean something is wrong. Resistance is often just the normal response felt when you do something that requires effort. When you stop dramatizing that feeling, it loses its power. 

Over time, repetition changes your relationship with the work. What once felt forced becomes familiar, and the things that required a push become something you simply do. 

Anything meaningful works this way. It isn’t sustained by emotion. It’s sustained by practice. You return to it because it matters, not because it excites you every day.

At the same time, you need to allow room for ease. You show up, but you don’t suffocate the process with pressure, as trying too hard would only create its own resistance. 

So you learn to move without forcing, to rest without guilt, and to work without waiting for the perfect feeling.