Here’s the honest answer to why I go all in on bad habits and only halfway on good ones: the bad stuff pays out tonight, and the good stuff pays out in six months. My brain has always been wired for tonight.
I figured that out lying in bed in Phuket at 8pm on a Thursday. Out of nowhere I got this rush of wanting to be great. Not rich, not famous, great. Most people would call me a mad man for saying that out loud, but I’ve always wanted to be different. And right behind that rush came the uncomfortable question: if I want it that bad, why have I never gone overboard on the one thing that would get me there?
Because I know how to go overboard. I’ve done it with drinking. I’ve done it with women. I’ve done it with every cheap dopamine hit on my phone. I even go overboard on hours in front of the computer. What I’ve never done is go overboard on seeing one project all the way through. That’s the pattern I want to break, so here’s what I’ve figured out so far.
Why do people go overboard on bad habits but not good ones?
Bad habits are built to be easy. They’re close, they’re cheap, and they hit right away. Good habits ask you to do something hard today for a payoff you can’t see yet.
This week was a perfect example. Monday I bought a pack of cigarettes, the same day I set up a weekly accountability meeting with a friend so someone would keep a log and keep me on track. Tuesday I went for a pack of ZYN anyway. I went way out of my way to get it, ended up at the wrong address, and stepped straight into a sewer. Then I went to Muay Thai practice with a headache and a soaked foot. If that’s not the universe telling you no, I don’t know what is.
I’ve been sober for years now, so I know I can quit something for real. But sobriety didn’t make me immune to the pattern. The urge just found a new door. Drinking became nicotine. Nicotine became scrolling. The thing I’m actually addicted to is the instant hit, and the substance is just whatever is closest.
Here’s the part that matters: the good things in my life don’t have that instant hit. Writing code for a SaaS doesn’t pay out tonight. Building an audience doesn’t pay out this week. So my brain treats them like optional homework, and the bad stuff gets my full effort.
What does the honeymoon phase have to do with finishing things?
I spent a few days in Phuket this week and I actually loved it. Cool old town, two great island tours, a gym, a run on the beach. But I was only there a few days, and that’s the honeymoon phase. I like basically anywhere for the first few days. I’ve been to 20+ countries and almost every one of them felt amazing in week one.
So I caught myself wondering how Phuket would feel after a full month. Would I still love it, or would the shine wear off and I’d start looking at flights?
That’s the exact same question I should be asking about every business I’ve ever started. My honeymoon phase with a project lasts about three months. I’ve run that cycle with YouTube, four marketplace accounts, two NFT projects, and coaching. High energy at the start, early momentum, then the excitement fades and I tell myself it’s “not bringing income yet” and I’m onto the next thing.
The honeymoon phase isn’t the problem. Everyone gets one. The problem is treating the end of the honeymoon like a sign that something is wrong. It’s not a sign. It’s just month two. The places I’ve loved the most, and the work I’ve been proudest of, all came after the honeymoon ended and I stayed anyway.
Right now I’m building one SaaS app, and I’m right in that window where the shine is wearing off. That’s not my cue to leave. That’s the actual test.
How do you go overboard on the right things?
I don’t think the answer is more willpower. I’ve tried willpower. Willpower lost to a pack of ZYN and a sewer.
The answer I keep landing on is making the good things behave more like the bad things. Close, easy, and with a payoff I can feel today.
Make it close. The bad habits win because they’re always within reach. So the work has to be the first thing in reach too. Laptop open before the phone. Project file open before the browser.
Make it visible. That weekly accountability meeting I set up isn’t about someone yelling at me. It’s about creating a scoreboard. When someone else is keeping a log, a skipped day stops being invisible. A weekly check-in gives a slow project a tiny payoff every seven days instead of zero payoff for six months.
Use the rush, don’t wait for it. That 8pm rush of wanting to be great is real, and I think it can push me far. But a rush isn’t a system. The move is to cash it in immediately, write down the one thing I’m doing tomorrow, and let the system carry the days when the rush doesn’t show up.
Go overboard on purpose. If I’m going to go overboard anyway, I might as well pick the thing. Not ten things. One. For me that means one app, one deadline, and the same amount of obsession I used to give to things that were hurting me.
Leaving this version behind
Saturday I flew to Bali. Plane smelled terrible, I barely slept, and Sunday morning I still got up and did a solid run on the beach on about five hours of sleep. Small thing. But it’s the kind of small thing I want to go overboard on.
New island, same guy. That’s the whole lesson of the honeymoon phase. A new place doesn’t change you. A new project doesn’t change you. The only thing that changes you is sticking around after the excitement wears off.
I wrote in my journal this week that I can’t wait to leave this version of me behind. I meant it. But I’m not going to leave him behind with a big speech or a new country. I’m going to do it the boring way: one project, one weekly check-in, one beach run at a time, long after the honeymoon is over.
If you’re the type who goes all in on everything that’s bad for you, good news. That means you know how to go all in. Now pick something worth it.