Ask Helen: a reader question about staying motivated

Dear Helen,

How can I get myself to take action, day in and day out, on the things that don't bring me any immediate gratification? How do I stay motivated to keep on with those actions?

Thank you!
No Pep In My Step

Dear No Pep,

If you Google this question, you'll find plenty of techniques out there, all of which might be practically helpful for you. If actionable items are what you're after, Google away! Strategies are great and there are loads of resources that provide just that. I encourage you to seek out the exact help you need.

But because you wrote to me with this question, I suspect you're after something different.

Here's my answer:

I don't think you can.

I don't think you can get yourself to stay motivated.

You might disagree or know something that I don't, but I haven't seen any evidence that energy, thoughts, or feelings work like that.

In my experience, we're not even remotely in control of our thoughts. (If we were, we'd never have unpleasant ones.) Same goes for feelings and energy.

As for actions, well—from where I stand, it seems as though certain things occur to us to do whenever they occur to us to do them.

Let's say you have an intention to do something. It's an action you want to take, or maybe you just want the benefit of having taken it.

Sometimes there's resistance and you don't do the thing you said you would do because you just don't feel like it in the moment.

Other times you feel the resistance, but you do the thing anyway.

Still, there are occasions when you feel no resistance whatsoever; you just do the thing, no big deal.

What I'm saying is: It's all subject to change. As is the case with each and every feeling, resistance and motivation don't last forever. And they only seem like a problem when you think you have to make yourself feel differently. When you think what's showing up right now isn't okay and you have to change it to something you think is better.

Not feeling motivated is an okay feeling to feel.

Resistance is an okay feeling to feel.

Neither means anything about you except how you feel in a given moment.

At the same time, it can be helpful to remember that you don't have to feel any which way in order to do something. You can not want to do something...and still do it.

Feelings don't actually stop you. They can't.

Your mind might have you believe you can't do the thing without wanting to do the thing—but that's just the nature of a mind. A mind will take a feeling and draw conclusions from it (e.g. "I don't feel like doing this thing right now, so I'll wait until I feel like it"); weave a story around it (e.g. "Ugh, I'm so unmotivated! This shows just how much I lack discipline"); even create a timeline for it (e.g. "I'm never going to be someone who shows up regularly because I never have before").

So, really, it's less about getting yourself to do something or feel a certain way and more about allowing yourself to feel how you feel—and then doing what occurs to you to do.

Sometimes, what occurs to you will be to do the thing anyway; other times, what occurs to you will be to avoid it (or even to do something else entirely).

Both are okay. Neither is problematic, nor a fixture of your personality. It's just what's showing up in the moment.

I hope this helps!

Love,
Helen

There *is* such thing as a perfect person

I read something last week, a sentiment I've heard many times, but that hit me differently just lately.

"Our flaws make us who we are. Embrace your imperfections!"

And I get what the person meant.

Don't hate on yourself for your perceived shortcomings. Those things are part of your humanness. Celebrate your flaws because they make you, YOU. They make you unique.

But I think we might have a bit of a false premise here.

Let me explain.

As I see it, who we are goes far beyond anything we might consider to be flaws.

Even the word "flaws" betrays a mind's story at work. "Flaws" is a concept. It's an intangible judgment. We don't have flaws. We have a mind that labels things. A mind that decides certain things are good or bad, strength or weakness, honorable or shameful, and on and on.

Who we are precedes our personality, psychology, experience, history, even our genetics. Who we are is deeper than our thoughts, feelings, moods, behaviors. Who we are is consciousness. An intangible presence. A container or a space or a backdrop in which things (our psychology, behaviors, experiences) unfold and fluctuate all the time.

Who we are is far bigger and more expansive than anything we might identify as being "us" or about us.

So, there's that.

Then there's this idea of imperfections.

And again, all I hear is a mind with a label maker.

Who are we to judge anything as imperfect?

I'll say that again louder for the folks in the back.

Who are we to judge anything as imperfect?

And, really, how could we possibly know that anything is imperfect?

What, but a mind, could judge something to be imperfect?

There's no alternate reality where we're better or different.

There's only what's here, what's showing up, right now.

So, what's here has to be perfect. What's showing up now, all of it, has to be perfect. There's nothing to compare it to; there's nothing else it could have been.

Are you following me?

When we compare what's here to something that doesn't exist, except for in our minds, we suffer. We believe that reality is wrong, that life got it wrong, and that there's a better option that could have been. But how could we know better than life? How could we possibly say that what's here, that who and how we are, is not how it's supposed to be?

So, when I read that sentiment about flaws and imperfections—even as it encourages this positive, accepting attitude toward them—all I can think is: There's no such thing.

Because what I now know to be true is this: Despite what we've been told since we were little, there is such a thing as a perfect person.

It's you.

And me.

All of us.

What's perfect is what is. You and me as we are. Whatever shows up and however it shows up.

What do you think?

Tell me what's coming up for you. Has this take on perfection sparked anything for you? Still convinced you could be better or different?

Drop a comment below and let's discuss. (I always reply to your comments, though Squarespace doesn't seem to ping you after I've done so 🤔, so be sure to check back here after a few days.)

How I help clients when they feel stuck

I've seen it time and time again.

I get on a coaching call with a person who claims to be really stuck.

They've tried a bunch of different things, but nothing much is happening except the same merry-go-round (which is not so merry) of thoughts and problems, would-be solutions and discouraging outcomes.

Are they actually stuck?

Do I believe them?

Well, I believe they think they're really stuck (which is as good as being stuck—because, let's face it, there's no objective way to measure stuckness; it's a feeling, and as with any feeling, it ebbs and flows with little to no intervention).

Truthfully, their thinking is their only problem.

But it isn't even a problem. The specific thoughts they're thinking aren't problems and the fact that they're thinking isn't a problem. This is all normal functioning of the mind.

It's just what minds do. ALL minds.

So, when I say their thinking is their only problem, what I mean is: They're feeling stuck because they're wrapped up in a ton of thinking.

They're doubling down on whatever thought(s) feels sticky and trying over and over again to think their way out of it, around it, through it.

Ever notice how these sorts of think-a-thons don't seem to land you an insight or a decision or a solution?

Things tend to get even more mixed up and unclear?

Yeah, that's because the mind is like the emcee of the think-a-thon, and minds are notoriously bad at producing useful solutions.

What does often produce a useful solution, however, is the space that exists when the mind is quiet and relaxed. When all the strategizing is abandoned and things start to settle down in the old noggin.

It's why your best ideas happen in the shower or when you're driving or after you've taken a nap.

It's the absence of that noisy, frantic, effortful problem-solving, coming from a narrator who has a penchant for catastrophizing and pro/con lists.

That space? That silence? That relaxed state? That's where the stuck loses its stick.

Clarity happens. A solution or an insight or an obvious next move materializes. Things are free and loose and flowing once again.

It never comes from muscling through a bunch of thinking, though our minds would have us believe that they played a vital role in the process.

So, where do we go first in a coaching conversation?

Do I have a magical way to unstick the stuck for my clients? If so, how do I it?

Do I try to convince them they're not actually stuck, they just think they're stuck?

And will that be enough to unstick them?

What we do together is try to relax the mind. We try to soften the focus on whatever feels intractable. We try to pull back so that we're not quite as close to the situation.

I don't use hypnosis or guided visualizations or any other particular technique. The idea here is to do a whole lot less, not to add more.

We talk. We acknowledge how much thinking is happening around and about the apparent problem. (It starts to get really obvious once it's pointed out.) We begin to notice all the ways the mind is showing up—all of its efforts to push through the apparent problem with more thinking.

Once we see how their thinking has created the problem (and also the problematic feeling of stuckness), we recognize that nothing more—no outward action—is necessary.

That feeling of stuckness is like a 'check engine' light, alerting us to the fact that the mind is a bit too involved at the moment. It's overheating, overthinking, and overcomplicating.

Stuck isn't a thing to be solved; on the contrary, it's a fabulous indication that it's time to take a step back. There's already too much interference. Timeouts for everyone!

So, if no outward action is necessary, what do we do with our remaining time together, the client and I?

Well, as all the heavy thinking lifts and the client begins to see that their job isn't to unstick the stuck, to find a way forward, or even to change their thoughts, their perspective changes quite naturally.

They start to see their situation from a bird's eye view, where they're no longer mired in the apparent problem, but are aware of all the thinking that was creating the apparent problem and making it feel intractable.

Unsticking happens on its own, sometimes during the session and sometimes afterward, as a result of a quieted mind and a person seeing something they didn't see before.

What do you think?

Tell me what it is about this approach to coaching that interests you. Have you experienced coaching before? Was it anything like this, or completely different? Drop a comment below and let’s discuss.

To goal or not to goal

I'm going to cut right to the chase here and say something controversial, but, nevertheless, true:

It isn't important or essential to have goals.

!!!

Don't get me wrong: Goals and goal-setting really work for some people. These folks derive a lot of satisfaction from training their eyes on a specific outcome and then working toward it.

But, by the same token, goal-setting can spell trouble for many of us.

When is goal-setting troublesome?

When we make our goal/goal achievement a contingency for our happiness, we set ourselves up to suffer.

This kind of goal-setting looks like choosing outcomes because you believe they will give you some feeling that you're currently lacking. In coaching terms, this is an example of an outside-in approach.

For instance, if you think happiness comes from losing weight or becoming a published author or hitting a specific salary threshold, and you set a goal accordingly, one of a few things will happen:

1. You become so hell-bent on achieving your particular goal that you're absolutely miserable in the process. Working toward it feels laborious, a total slog, and no part of this quest after happiness via your goal is actually bringing you any happiness.

2. You reach your goal and, within a short time, you wonder, Is this it? You return to feeling however you felt before, because happiness isn't embedded in anything external. It can't be; feelings don't work like that. (You might fight me on this and say, "Yeah, but when I started making $100K, I really did become happier," and I'd say, "That's great! I'm happy for you. But it wasn't the money or the goal achievement that made you happy; it was whatever you were thinking about the money or the goal achievement that inspired your happiness.")

3. You don't reach your goal and you beat yourself up for it. You use this failure as proof of your many character defects, and you feel even less happy than you did before you began your pursuit.

When it's outside-in like this, goal-setting doesn't make a whole lot of sense.

When might you want to play with goal-setting?

When it feels good, fun, interesting, or exciting to pursue something, you might find yourself dreaming up a goal.

This kind of goal-setting looks like going after something because you want to do it, and because it feels good in the moment. You don't need it, whatever 'it' is, to feel any type of way, because all feelings come from thoughts alone. In coaching terms, this is an example of an inside-out approach.

You want to see what it's like to complete a marathon, and it feels so good to run, so you sign up for one that's a year out and begin weekly training.

You think NaNoWriMo sounds like a cool challenge, and you've always loved to write, so you commit to writing a draft of a novel in a month's time.

The idea of doubling your income seems outrageous and delightful and, somehow, unlocks a bunch of creative ideas inside you, so you take it on for fun.

Since your emotional state is generated from your thinking, and your thinking changes no matter what's going on in the external world (that's the nature of thinking), goals and goal achievement aren't needed to feel good. In fact, they can't make you feel good. They can prompt thoughts that cause you to feel good (or not so good), but they can't, in and of themselves, create a feeling within you.

It's only when your emotional okay-ness isn't at risk that goals can be what they're supposed to be—that is, truly playful activities you can engage with throughout the game of life.

Whether or not you meet you goals doesn't matter. Nothing whatsoever is riding on them.

When it's inside-out like this, goal-setting is light and fun. Goals are changeable and even abandon-able, and if you do stick with and meet a goal, hooray! An added bonus.

Will you get what you want in life if you don't set any goals?

I don't know if you'll get what you want in life, but here's the thing: It isn't goals that get you what you want anyway.

Operating in and from the present moment is more likely to get you what you want. (This, in contrast to living in the past or the future—which is to say, living in your thoughts.)

From the present moment, you can make decisions that are rooted in what you want; you have the freedom to change your mind (in other words, the goal isn't in charge around here); and you're flexible and responsive to what presents itself in any given moment.

Life is happening all the time, regardless of your intentions, goals, efforts, and plans. You're not making life happen, no matter how much you feel like you are, or like you have to.

Don't you need to know what you want in order to move forward in life? Isn't defining what you want worthwhile?

Life moves you forward whether or not you know what you want (or think you do).

It's not your job to move life forward.

And, in fact, nothing you do actually moves life forward.

We're all presented with opportunities of all kinds, all the time. We have gut feelings about things—we think, Yes, I want that, or No, thanks; I'll pass, about a myriad of things all the livelong day. We don't need to do a whole lot of digging to unearth our true wants in life. We just kind of know what sounds good to us in the moment, and we go off and do it.

So, defining what you want isn't not worthwhile...but I wouldn't say it's categorically worth everyone's while. Maybe it's better to say: It's worthwhile if it's worth your while. In other words, you do you.

A five-year plan is great if that works for you. If you can truly see it as a game, if your grip on it is light (all the better if it's nonexistent), if you know it won't actually bring you any feeling—super, wonderful, carry on!

But if it doesn't occur to you to make one, or if you just think you should have one, because it seems like all the successful people do (they don't), skip it. You'll do just fine in life by operating in the present moment alone, figuring it all out as you go. We are designed to work this way.

What do you think?

How do you feel about goal-setting? Do you believe goals are necessary to your success and happiness? Or are you someone who hasn't really ever set a goal and doesn't intend to? Share with me in the comments below.

Ask Helen: a reader question about working hard

[N.B.: Today's "Ask Helen" comes from Vanessa Jean of The Goldenrod Chronicles, who didn't actually ask Helen—er, me—this question, but instead posed it to her Substack readers back in January. I asked her if I could answer it here, in my newsletter, and she agreed.]

As a people-pleaser. As a doer. As someone with a Lifetime Achievement Award in achievement. As a someone with some pride. And also as a recovering perfectionist:

HOW HARD ARE WE SUPPOSED TO WORK?

I am not asking ‘what is the bare minimum one must achieve’ in order to keep a job. I just mean, like—how much effort and with what intensity and how hard should one work?

Dear Vanessa,

I've got a short answer and a long answer for you. The short answer takes your question at face value, while the long answer pokes at it—not in an effort to invalidate what you're asking, but more to draw your attention to the innocent but insidious assumptions and efficiencies that the mind makes in posing such a question in the first place.

THE SHORT ANSWER

One ought to work however hard they want, knowing and appreciating that 1. their ability and/or inclination to 'work hard' is entirely dependent on a series of variables that are constantly changing and not even mostly controllable, and 2. there is no rubric for measuring such a thing.

THE LONG ANSWER

Okay, buckle up. I'm going to break apart your question and analyze it somewhat philosophically, with the aim of getting to the heart of it—and what I suspect is your underlying concern.

“How hard”

What is 'hard'?

Does it mean diligent and singularly focused? Or punishing and arduous?

Does it mean hours spent? Calories burned? Number of personal needs forgone?

Does it mean you need to lose yourself in the task at hand? Or count down the minutes until it's over?

Your mind might try to sweep away all these questions by saying, Oh, she's just splitting hairs! She knows what you mean! Everyone knows what it means to work hard!

And I would respond, "How convenient, Vanessa's mind, that you're choosing such a nebulous and unquantifiable word by which to measure Vanessa's efforts!"

This is how minds often operate. They tell us we're not working hard enough, but they're unable to clearly and consistently define what 'hard' means.

"are we"

Who is 'we'? All of humankind?

And can we really group everyone together like that and use the same metric for effort? Is there such thing as one-size-fits-all when it comes to working hard?

Or does 'we' include only those people who have crossed a certain educational threshold? Maybe people who are of similar intellectual ability?

Is 'we' only those who have specific financial needs? What about folks with particular goals or career aspirations versus those who have none, or folks who are inherently talented in some area versus those who are pursuing something that doesn't come naturally to them?

Even if you changed "are we" to "am I," as in, "How hard am I supposed to work?" many questions would remain. I'd want to know, compared to what, compared to whom?

The mind that groups us all together and poses a question about a general 'we' is, somehow, the same mind that will compare us unfavorably to others in one instance and convinces us we've worked harder than our lazy coworker in another. The mind is full of contradictions!

"supposed to"

According to whom? Who is measuring or judging? Whose standard is this? Who is the voice behind this phrase, 'supposed to'? And who could really tell, one way or the other, if you're fulfilling this ill-defined standard?

Your mind will try to fight me on this (it will probably find some really good examples to counter the following statements, but that doesn't change their truthfulness):

There is no such thing as 'supposed to'. There are no adults in the building, no true authority figures, no universal rules governing work, no best practices, no rubrics or measuring sticks, no moral imperatives. None of it exists.

All that exists is what is. 'Supposed to' implies there's a way it should be going...which isn't reality. (Reality is what's actually happening.)

If you were asking your question about this exact moment, I'd want to know what your energy is like in this exact moment—and by the time you answered, it would be a different moment, and your energy would have likely fluctuated—so, how hard you could have worked in that past moment would've depended on (among other factors) your energy level in that moment. And since your energy is an ever-changing variable, the 'hardness' of your work efforts are correspondingly dynamic.

It's all in flux. All the time. No exceptions. Change is the only constant.

Very innocently, the mind creates a set of rules (in an effort to keep you safe—a totally loving gesture, but misguided!) and then operates from that set of rules as though it's universally-recognized law. As though the very same mind isn't the source of those rules in the first place. 'Supposed to' is a telltale sign that the mind is holding you to something that feels really real...but that's actually of the mind's own creation.

"work?"

Are you referring to paid work? Does unpaid work count, too? What about underpaid work? And how about overpaid work? Does this question apply to folks who work in a volunteer capacity?

Does 'work' include work that feels more like play, regardless of pay?

Does it include illegal work?

Are all forms of 'work' created equal? Even if everyone's abilities were equal, would all kinds of work merit the same level of effort?

The mind oversimplifies. It uses a blanket term such as 'work' for something that's actually far more complicated, because it isn't interested in details; it's a thinking machine, striving for efficiency. It equates your work with the work of all people in the world, as though it's all the same and there's a single, morally-supported standard of effort—with a rubric for measuring said effort. The mind is incredibly reductive. It doesn't win any awards for nuance.

What I think you might really be asking

I suspect your mind has thought up such a question because, at some point, it wanted a concrete measurement by which to gauge your personal efforts. It wanted to compare (minds love to compare), it wanted some certainty (minds loooove certainty—even if it *is* always the illusion of such), and it wanted to keep you in check (minds love to manage us and maintain the status quo).

You see how this is, very likely, just a habituated thought, right? As I hope to have proved above, a mind can only ask this question if it conveniently bypasses specificity and accuracy. And then a mind sustains this kind of question by asking it often enough (or by alluding to such a vague metric as 'hard') so as to make it feel familiar and, therefore, legitimate.

Just because your mind is asking this question doesn't mean it's something you, Vanessa, really want to know. Or that you even believe it's something you could know. It might just be a question your mind has posed before (many times before), and you're accustomed to taking it seriously, actually giving it some airtime in your head, and trying to solve it once and for all.

But underneath this cleverly-worded question that your mind cooked up ages ago is, I think, a desire to be the authority of your own life.

Am I okay with not working myself to death? Am I okay with not working as hard as I might’ve worked in the past? Am I okay with not working as hard as some part of me believes I should work? Am I okay with not working as hard as I sometimes believe I'm capable of working? Am I okay with the fact that life feels easier for me when I'm not holding myself to some arbitrary and purely imaginary standards of effort and toil and devotion to doing? Am I okay with just being; showing up at my job, doing the things I agreed to do, getting paid, and returning to the rest of my life?

Your mind has made it seem like a legitimate question to outsource (this is something all minds do)—when, really, it's another case of an inside job.

Are you comfortable working however you want to work in any given moment? And, if you're not comfortable, can you welcome those uncomfortable feelings, and let them hang out a while until they shift? (They will shift; they always shift.)

I hope this helps!

Love,
Helen