How often do you put things off? Why do you put things off that you know you should do? Maybe waiting for circumstances to be just right before you make a change? In this week’s episode we’re going to dive a deeper into why put things off, and what you can do to build momentum, and move forward.
“It is not that we have a short space of time, but that we waste much of it. Life is long enough, and it has been given in sufficiently generous measure to allow the accomplishment of the very greatest things if the whole of it is well invested.”― Seneca
Last week I had a Q & A episode, and one of the questions was about not taking action. I thought it was a great question, but I wanted to dive in a little deeper into it this week.
One of the things that we struggle with is putting things off. We know what we should do, but sometimes we have hard time getting ourselves to do them. Maybe it’s habit that we want to start or one we want to stop. It could be a creative project that we spend a lot of time “researching” but never seem to get started. Maybe it’s a hard conversation that we need to have, but keep putting off.
We have good intentions, but even with those good intentions we avoid taking action. What makes it even harder is that we don’t struggle like this with everything. There are things that easily capture our interest and we happily and enthusiastically do them. We’re successful in some areas, so why do we struggle to get started in other areas?
In this episode we’re going to dive into why we put things off, and what we can do to get momentum to move us forward.
Act 1: The Problem
Most people assume that it’s a motivation problem. That we just don’t have enough willpower or discipline to start what we know we should. We beat ourselves up over it, telling ourselves that we’re lazy, not motivated enough, or that we should just try harder.
But that framing is simply wrong. This type of framing leads to a shame spiral which makes it even worse. It’s like a double whammy—you don’t accomplish what you want, then you feel even worse for not doing it. To be clear, this is not a character flaw. Getting ourselves to take action is something that isn’t new to our modern era. It’s such a part of human nature that philosophers have been wresting with understanding this for 2500 years.
The ancient Greeks had a word for this: akrasia. It roughly translates to acting against your better judgment — knowing the right thing to do and doing something else instead. Or nothing at all.
The author Steven Pressfield calls this Resistance—the force that gets in the way when we want to do something that is important to us. I love how he describes it:
“Resistance will tell you anything to keep you from doing your work. It will perjure, fabricate; it will seduce you. Resistance is always lying and always full of shit.” — Steven Pressfield
Even the philosophers argued about why we failed to act in our own best interest. Socrates believed that a person, with enough knowledge would always choose to do the right thing. Aristotle found this idea troubling because it violated reason—why someone with knowledge still work against themselves?
It’s a question that doesn’t have an easy answer.
Even Marcus Aurelius, the most powerful man in the world at his time, and a life long student of philosophy still struggled with this. He had to remind himself to get out of bed in the morning:
"At dawn, when you have trouble getting out of bed, tell yourself: I have to go to work — as a human being. What do I have to complain of, if I'm going to do what I was born for?" — Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 5.1
He was fighting some of the same battle we still fight today, and had to talk himself into doing what he knew was the right thing to do.
Akrasia doesn't discriminate. It visits everyone. The question is what we do when it shows up.
Act 2: The Philosophy
The Stoic Diagnosis
Here's where the Stoics cut to the chase. They held a position that, at first, sounds almost too clean: if you truly and fully judge an action to be good, you will do it. If you don't do it, that tells you something. It tells you that you don't actually believe what you think you believe. Not fully. Something else is winning underneath the surface — some competing impression or belief that's being treated, in that moment, as more real.
So the Stoic diagnosis of procrastination isn't “you're weak.” It's something more precise: you are holding a false impression, and you haven't examined it.
That's a different kind of problem. And it requires a different kind of solution.
The Hidden Trade-Off
Here's what I've come to believe, drawing both on Stoic philosophy and on modern psychology: procrastination is always a hidden trade-off. We're not avoiding the task — we're avoiding the feeling the task brings up.
Psychologist Tim Pychyl, who has spent decades researching this, frames procrastination not as a time management failure but as an emotion regulation problem. We put things off to avoid the emotions those things trigger. Fear of failure. Fear of judgment. The discomfort of difficulty. The anxiety of beginning something we're not sure we can finish.
And in the moment of avoidance, we make a trade: short-term emotional relief now, for long-term cost later. We choose the comfort of not starting over the discomfort of beginning. And we dress that choice up in rational language:
- "I'm not ready."
- "I need more information."
- "I'll do it when I have more energy."
Strip those away and what you usually find underneath is fear. That's the competing belief that's winning. Not laziness. Fear.
The Disguises
Akrasia is a shape-shifter. It rarely shows up wearing its own face. Here are the most common disguises I've seen—in my clients, in myself, and I suspect, in you.
It shows up as perfectionism. We tell ourselves, “I’ll start when I can do it right.” The hidden belief here is that imperfect action is the same as failure—so we protect ourselves from failure by never starting.
Sometimes it shows up as over-preparation. Endless research, planning, optimizing—everything except doing. This one is insidious because it feels productive. You're technically working on the thing. But you're circling it instead of landing.
It even disguises itself as productive procrastination. You stay busy with smaller, easier tasks so that you feel like you're making progress while the important thing remains untouched.
All of these are about waiting—for inspiration, for motivation, for conditions to be right.
In Stoic terms, all of these are a failure to examine the impression driving the behavior. Carl Jung, writing from a completely different tradition, captured the same idea:
"Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate." — Carl Jung
The false belief driving avoidance is usually unconscious. We don't experience it as a belief — we experience it as reality. As just the way things are. The Stoic practice of examining impressions is, in this sense, the same work as making the unconscious conscious.
Seneca even wrote a whole treatise on it called On the Shortness of Life.
“Putting things off is the biggest waste of life: it snatches away each day as it comes, and denies us the present by promising the future. The greatest obstacle to living is expectancy, which hangs upon tomorrow, and loses today. You are arranging what lies in Fortune's control, and abandoning what lies in yours. What are you looking at? To what goal are you straining? The whole future lies in uncertainty: live immediately.” — Seneca
There's a fiction we tell ourselves — that there is a future version of us who will do this. Better rested. More inspired. Less busy. More ready. Shoving everything off to the future and loading all those things onto someone else—our future self. Seneca is saying: that person is not coming. The key to getting things done is not having the right circumstances, not when we’re better or stronger. It’s consistency, now. It’s doing even just one step today rather than waiting until tomorrow.
Marcus Aurelius echoed this idea, writing:
"Do not act as if you had a thousand years to live… while you have it in your power, while you still may, make yourself good." — Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 4.17
This isn't meant to be anxiety-inducing. It's meant to be clarifying. The urgency of life, held clearly, is a gift, not a threat.
Act 3: The Practice
This Is Not a Willpower Problem
I want to be clear about something before we get into some of the practices you can use. If your approach to procrastination is to grit your teeth and force yourself, that strategy will eventually fail. Not because you're weak. Because willpower treats the symptom, not the cause.
You can white-knuckle through the task this time. But the underlying impression — the fear, the false belief — is still there. It will show up again tomorrow, and the day after. The Stoic approach is more surgical: don't override the impression. Examine it.
The Core Practice: Examine the Impression
When you notice yourself avoiding something, pause. Don't shame yourself for avoiding it — that only makes it worse, and Brené Brown's research on shame confirms what the Stoics already understood: shame doesn't produce change.
She wrote:
"Shame corrodes the very part of us that believes we are capable of change." — Brené Brown
Rather motivating us forward, it produces more avoidance.
So how can we combat the tendency to shame ourselves for not acting?
Instead, we can get curious. Ask yourself:
- “What am I actually afraid will happen if I start this?”
- “Is that fear true? Or is it an impression I've accepted without questioning?”
- “What do I actually believe about this task — not what I say I believe?”
Now remember, this is self-investigation, not self-criticism. The Stoic doesn't stand over themselves with a whip. They stand over themselves with a lamp. They look at things objectively, withholding judgment so they can see things as they are.
When you find the fear — and you usually will find a fear — you can look at through the lens of the Dichotomy of Control: separate what is in your control from what is not.
First off, is the outcome of this task in your control?
No.
What is under your control is your effort. Your honesty. Your willingness to begin is.
Action Precedes Motivation
Here's an important reversal that makes a big difference. We have the relationship between action and motivation backwards. We wait to feel ready, and then we'll act. But readiness, motivation, comes from acting — not before it.
The Stoics captured this in the concept of kathêkon — appropriate action, taken now, in the present moment. Not when conditions are perfect. Not when we feel inspired. Now. The discipline isn't in feeling ready. It's in beginning anyway.
And the remarkable thing is that once you begin — once you take even a small, imperfect step — the emotional resistance usually drops. Not always. But often. Because the task, once you're inside it, is almost never as threatening as the story you built around it.
"Nothing is so fatiguing as the eternal hanging on of an uncompleted task." — William James
The thing you're dreading costs you energy every single day you don't do it. The mental overhead of carrying it. The low-grade guilt. The way it sits in the back of your mind. Starting — even imperfectly — often costs less than continuing to avoid.
A Small, Practical Anchor
When the task feels overwhelming, when the gap between where you are and where you need to be feels too wide — don't try to cross it in one leap. Just take the next action. Not 'finish the project.' Just: open the document. Send the first message. Make the one call. Set the one thing in motion.
"Make the best use of what is in your power, and take the rest as it happens." — Epictetus
What is in your power, right now, is the next small action. That's all Stoicism asks of you. Not perfection. Not the whole mountain at once. The next step.
Remember, those obstacles are the things that teach how to overcome the obstacle. You don’t get better at it by putting it off or avoiding them. You get better by trying, failing, and learning. Then trying again. And again.
And the thing is, when you learn how to do something when circumstances aren’t ideal, think how much better you’ll be when you have been slogging away and circumstances do move in your favor. If you can stick to it when it’s hard, then you’ll sail even faster when the wind is in your favor!
Act 4: Conclusion
The Emotional Courage Reframe
I want to bring this home to something that sits at the heart of this podcast, because I think it reframes everything we've talked about today.
Addressing akrasia — facing the thing you've been avoiding — isn't about force. It isn't about suppressing the fear and pushing through. That's not Stoicism.
Real Stoic practice requires a specific kind of courage. The courage to sit with the feeling you've been avoiding. To look at it directly. To ask what it actually is — not what it's pretending to be. And then to choose to act in spite of it, not in denial of it.
That's emotional courage. Not the absence of fear. The willingness to examine it, name it honestly, and move anyway. Over time you’ll see that the discomfort of starting becomes less than the fear of failure. You’ll take action, even in the face of uncertainty.
Marcus Aurelius had to do this every morning. Seneca wrote about it constantly. Epictetus built his entire teaching around it. The Stoics weren't people who had transcended difficulty — they were people who had developed a practice for facing it. That distinction matters.
Closing Thought
There is something you have been putting off. You know what it is. Maybe it's been sitting with you for days, or weeks, or longer.
The Stoic invitation today is not to force yourself. It's to get curious. To look at the impression underneath the avoidance and ask whether it's true. To separate what you actually control from what you're afraid of losing control over.
And then — when you've looked at it clearly — to take the next small step. Not the whole thing. Just the next step.
"Begin at once to live, and count each separate day as a separate life." — Seneca
The thing you've been putting off doesn't need a better version of you. It needs the version of you that exists right now — willing to begin.
