We tell ourselves we’re too overwhelmed to focus right now. Too drained. Too caught up in whatever mess life has thrown our way. We assume that once we feel better—less stressed, less frustrated, less stuck—that’s when we’ll be ready to get organized and take control. And we need to be motivated, or excited, or in the right headspace. But the truth is, waiting for the perfect moment to start something is like waiting for a traffic light to turn green on all sides. But what if that feeling never comes first? What if clarity, motivation, and even a sense of peace aren’t the prerequisites to action, but the result of it?

That’s perhaps the missing piece. We wait for our energy to return before we start doing the work, but the work itself is what restores our energy. A mind left wandering through unstructured days will only find more problems to dwell on. But a mind engaged in purposeful work gains momentum.

A psychological study shows that stepping into unfamiliar situations activates a specific part of the brain responsible for releasing dopamine—the chemical that boosts happiness and motivation.

This region only lights up when we encounter something truly new. In other words, growth happens when we seek the unfamiliar, the uncertain, the uncomfortable. But discomfort isn’t exactly appealing. It’s far easier to stay where things are predictable, to resist change, to avoid risks, to stay put, to never take that first step.

Stephen King, considered one of the most prolific writers of our time, doesn’t sit around waiting for inspiration. He has a schedule. He writes every day, whether he feels like it or not. That’s the secret behind finishing anything worth doing: structure, discipline, and a little bit of blind faith that the feeling will catch up with the action.

Think about the last time you had a free day with no real plan. Maybe you woke up late, scrolled through your phone for a while, had a vague idea of getting some things done, but somehow the day just slipped away. Contrast that with a day when you had an itinerary—maybe a trip, a project deadline, or even just a simple to-do list. That day probably felt more productive, maybe even more enjoyable, because there was momentum. You weren’t floating. You were moving.

Years ago, I had a coworker who always seemed ahead of the game. While some of us scrambled to meet deadlines, she worked methodically, hardly ever appearing stressed. One day, I asked how she managed it. “Every Friday afternoon,” she said, “I sit down and map out my next week. It takes 30 minutes. That 30 minutes saves me hours of chaos.”

It sounded too simple to be the magic trick we were all missing. But when I finally tried it, I understood. With a clear plan, my days stopped feeling like a series of fires to put out. I had a rhythm, a sense of control. My workload didn’t change—but my experience of it did.

A well-planned hour saves three hours of scrambling. A well-planned day turns stress into progress. And a well-planned life? That’s where freedom is built

Having a plan doesn’t mean becoming a rigid, joyless productivity machine or pushing yourself too hard. It just means you’re taking the reins instead of letting the day drag you where it wants. If you feel stuck, drained, or overwhelmed, try this: Instead of waiting for motivation to arrive, sit down and plan your next move. Not in a vague, wishful-thinking way, but in a concrete, actionable way. Because once your work has direction, your energy will follow.

You don’t need motivation to start. You just need to start, and the motivation will follow.

When Motivation Fades, Rituals Keep You Going

Motivation is often unreliable—fluctuating based on mood, energy levels, or external circumstances—rituals create a stable structure that keeps you moving forward regardless of how you feel in the moment.

How do elite athletes train their minds to deal with the stress and pressure of competition?

Josh Waitzkin, an eight-time national chess champion and world-class martial artist, knows a thing or two about peak performance. His book The Art of Learning explores what separates top performers from everyone else, and one concept stands out: the power of ritual.

Pressure doesn’t magically produce focus. If anything, it usually does the opposite. That’s why top athletes, musicians, and even chess players don’t just rely on skill—they rely on triggers. These are small, deliberate routines designed to summon a specific mental state on command.

The mechanics of these routines aren’t what matter most. What matters is consistency. A sprinter might always listen to the same song before a race. A musician might take three deep breaths before stepping on stage. A writer might make a cup of coffee before sitting down to work. Over time, these rituals stop being just actions, they become signals to the brain, It’s time to lock in.

The brain thrives on patterns, and if you repeat a series of actions before entering a state of deep focus, calm, or confidence, eventually, those actions become the switch that flips you into that state. Take something as mundane as washing dishes—maybe, for whatever reason, it’s a task that puts you into a zone of pure concentration. Maybe, without realizing it, the warm water, the rhythmic scrubbing, the white noise of running water help you concentrate. If you wanted to channel that same focus into, say, public speaking or athletic performance, you could create a short routine before dishwashing, whatever it is—stretching, breathing a certain way, listening to a particular song.

Do it enough times, and your brain starts connecting that routine with the state of focus you experience while scrubbing plates. Eventually, just running through the routine—anywhere, anytime—before a meeting, before writing, before any high-stakes moment—could put you into that same state of mind.

It’s a simple trick, but it explains why so many top performers have quirks that seem random—Michael Jordan wearing his college basketball shorts under his uniform, Serena Williams bouncing the ball exactly five times before a serve. These are triggers wired into their brains through years of repetition.