Like everything feels too hard? And you can’t do it?
If so, I get it. I’ve been there (many times).
What I’ve found really helps when I’m feeling down is a little self care. And this usually involves taking some time out, being kind to myself and reaching out to others for support.
It takes real courage to share a journey that is less than perfect. And my PhD journey was far from perfect . . .
When I first started my PhD, I went through a rough patch. The little critical voice in my head was in overdrive. Like a bully in the school yard, it would taunt, “You’re stupid!”, “Your writing is rubbish” and “You’re dumb compared to the others”.
As this critical inner voice became louder, my motivation levels plummeted. At one point, I couldn’t face working on my PhD anymore. In fact, I stopped going into university. I shut shop for several weeks.
My time off was similar to what I have recently experienced with COVID-19. It gave me the time and space to think about what I wanted from life. I really enjoyed doing my own thing for a bit.
There were days where I would lie on the couch and just watch TV or read a book. And that was okay. I allowed myself to do these things (guilt free).
After my time off, I went into university to figure out how I was going to quit (Who did I need to talk to? What papers did I need to fill in?). But that day, something happened that changed the course of my life forever . . .
I bumped into another PhD student and I shared with him my plan to quit.
Like a lot of people, he was a little surprised by my plan. But unlike most people, he didn’t say, “You’d be crazy to quit!” and “Don’t throwaway this amazing opportunity!”.
Instead, he was incredibly gentle and kind. He simply suggested:
“Before you quit . . .why not take a few free courses through the university? The training is wonderful!”
“Great idea!”, I thought. So I enrolled in a two day training course that piqued my interest. I thought, “I’ll do this but then I am out of here . . . ”
There I was at the training course in the city, sitting next to a young woman from Indonesia. She had uprooted her life in Indonesia and moved here with her entire family to do her PhD.
On our lunch break, I asked her how things were going with her research project. “It’s been really hard”, she said. “Why?”, I asked. She proceeded to tell me:
• Her husband couldn’t find work in Australia
• She was having to wake up at 4am to work at a bakery to support her family
• She had two small children that needed her care and attention
• She was working long hours in the lab on her PhD from 9am – 6pm.
• It was hard to make friends here
• She wasn’t on a scholarship (she was paying the university a lot of money to do her research).
This poor woman looked completely exhausted. Hearing her story jolted me out of this strange story I had developed that my life was really tough.
Let me just say, the self pity party came to an abrupt end.
I felt sick to the stomach as I realised how privileged I was. I had nothing to complain about.
My inner voice was now saying:
“Pull your finger out and get cracking!”
That conversation completely shifted my mindset. And with that, everything else shifted for me. For the first time in months, I felt like doing research. I wanted to continue studying.
No. It was incredibly challenging (research and study is challenging).
You bet. It was one of the best things I ever did.
I learnt that it’s okay to make mistakes. You don’t have to do things perfectly or be the smartest person in the room. You just need to keep showing up and do a little bit each day.
In hindsight, I learnt the power of kindness and being vulnerable. I saw that if you’re in the right headspace, a single conversation can be life changing.
The PhD student I bumped into at university on the day I was going to quit later became my friend. He came to my PhD graduation ceremony to celebrate with me.
He must have known that simple two minute conversation helped shift my path. It literally changed the trajectory of my life for the better (thank you Simon).
So never underestimate the power of your words and actions. What you say and do could change someone else’s life for the better.
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The other day, I was getting my haircut when my hairdresser told me something her 15-year-old son had said. His words took her completely by surprise. He said:
“Mum, I need to try harder this year.”
I hear those words a lot. Try harder.
I hear them from students who want to do better at school and from teachers who are trying to motivate students (“You need to try harder”).
But what does it actually mean to “try harder”?
The problem is that this advice is too vague and abstract.
If you don’t have a clear picture of what ‘trying harder’ looks like, you’re in dangerous territory because you’re attempting to motivate yourself towards an abstraction.
In the book Tiny Habits, Professor BJ Fogg explains the problems associated with motivating yourself to achieve a vague goal. He writes:
“You’ve probably seen a well-meaning public-health poster in the doctor’s office that shows lots of colourful vegetables with the headline: EAT THE RAINBOW!
At first glance, you think: Yes, I need to eat better food. But then you’re not sure what practical steps to take. How much green and how much red? That means salad and apples, right? It can’t mean mint ice-cream and red licorice, can it? You are motivated to “eat the rainbow,” but maybe you don’t know how. You feel frustrated and end up being a little hard on yourself.”
I didn’t want my hairdresser’s son to feel frustrated and annoyed with himself. He clearly had good intentions.
I asked my hairdresser, “What does trying harder look like for your son? If he’s trying harder, what is he doing?”
She said she wasn’t sure. So, I kept asking questions.
“Does it look like him sitting down and testing himself with flashcards before a test? Taking notes in class? Listening to the teacher instead of chatting with his mates?”
The answer was clear. She said, “Listening to the teacher! He needs to start listening to his teachers.”
I also mentioned that it would help if he learnt his teachers’ names (you’d be surprised how many teachers tell me their students don’t know their names).
Remembering a teacher’s name, staying focused on what they have to say, resisting distractions, taking notes and reading your textbook may sound easy, but these are skills that require continuous practice.
If you’re not used to doing them, they can feel hard.
Even with years of practice under my belt, understanding new ideas still feels hard. These days, reading feels like weightlifting for my mind!
After getting my haircut, for the next 24 hours, I kept thinking about those words “try harder”.
Something was bugging me about it because I felt it wasn’t helpful to tell yourself to “try harder”. . . and then, like a bolt of lightning, the answer hit me: my hairdresser’s son doesn’t need to try harder. He needs to focus on doing a few specific hard things.
By ‘specific hard things’, I mean concrete behaviours he can do right now (or at a specific point in time) to improve his understanding of his school subjects.
For example, if he wanted to start a home study routine, here are some concrete behaviours I’d recommend he try:
These are just a few behaviours that come to mind when I think about “trying harder” with your studies.
Doing these concrete behaviours just once won’t make you go from good to great. But you’ll be surprised by how much meaningful progress you can make in a single, effective study session.
We live in a world where comfort and convenience are increasingly normalised. We expect things, including learning, to be easy.
You don’t have to cook (thank you Uber Eats).
You don’t have to move (thank you car).
You don’t have to experience boredom (thank you social media and Netflix).
You don’t even have to use your brain anymore (thank you ChatGPT and Claude).
By outsourcing tasks that require physical and cognitive effort, we may save time, but there are hidden costs.
People are losing their skills, destroying their health, and atrophying their brains, all while being flooded with unhealthy levels of dopamine. I’d even go as far as saying that people are losing their lives and what it means to be human.
In every moment, we have a choice: we can do the easy thing that gives us a quick dopamine hit, or we can do the hard thing that gives us a slow and healthy release of dopamine.
When you wake up, you can scroll on your phone or do some physical activity.
At the end of the day, you can order takeaway that is engineered to light up the reward pathways in your brain, or you can prepare a healthy homemade meal.
When you’ve got a spare 30 minutes, you can watch some YouTube or go for a walk outside.
You can use ChatGPT to write your essay, or you can use your brain and build your skills.
You can talk to an AI chatbot and have a friction-free relationship, or you can organise to meet up with a friend.
Every time you choose the hard thing over the easy thing, you build your confidence. You can trust yourself to do hard things and survive them. Over time, as you build your skills, those hard things don’t feel as hard as they once did.
For instance, if the Internet goes down and you’re not dependent on ChatGPT, you know you’ll be okay. You can rely on yourself to think and entertain yourself (thank you brain).
This is why I’m committing to doing hard things this year. I’m challenging myself, and I know I’ll be better for it.
Just to be clear, I’m not talking about self-harm or inflicting extreme pain on myself.
I’m referring to activities that bring up a cringey discomfort and make me think, “Ahhh, I don’t want to do this!”.
These include activities that require sustained focus and/or mental and physical effort, such as writing an article, going for a run, riding my bike to the shops, and meditating.
The simplest way is to ease into doing those hard things. Turn those hard things into tiny habits.
Here is a list of tiny habits for hard things I’m focusing on doing:
Some of these things may not seem like much, but all of these behaviours require mental and physical effort. Remember, there’s a much easier alternative: sitting, tapping, swiping, and scrolling on your phone.
For instance, I don’t need to chop vegetables and cook my meals. I could eat out or order food to my door. This would save me time and effort (cooking my meals can feel like a part-time job).
But I know I would suffer at some point (physically, mentally, and financially).
Chopping vegetables and cooking take effort, but it helps me cultivate calm. When done with a focused mind (not listening to podcasts or talking on the phone), I really enjoy these activities.
If I were to outsource these activities, I’d be going backwards, because I’d most likely lose my valuable cooking skills over time.
Similarly, writing articles like this one feels hard. But hard doesn’t mean bad. It’s satisfying to focus my mind, wrestle with ideas, and write.
Many of us mistakenly believe that an easy life is a better life. But it’s not. A life where you are constantly pursuing pleasure and taking the easy path can lead to anhedonia.
Anhedonia is the inability to experience pleasure in things that were once pleasurable (e.g., a homecooked meal or a sunset). Some people describe it as life in greyscale.
It turns out the more pleasure we pursue, the more pleasure we need and the more pain we experience.
It may sound counterintuitive, but pursuing hard things makes you feel more motivated and more positive about life.
As humans, we want to challenge ourselves. We’re wired for it.
Psychiatrist Dr Anna Lembke encourages us to take on difficult, even painful, activities as a way of “aligning our primitive wiring with our modern ecosystem”. She writes:
“We are survivors. We’re wired for struggle, especially of physical nature. Yet we live in a world in which we’re largely insulated from pain. And not just pain, but also discomfort of any kind. Everything is supplied to us at the touch of a finger. Now we struggle just to get up off the couch. Our modern ecosystem incentivizes inactivity. Inactivity breeds lethargy. Lethargy breeds anxiety and depression. We must fight against this.”
So, forget trying harder. Work out a few hard things you want to do and focus on doing them instead.
We are sold this idea that, if you want to go places in life, goal-setting is absolutely essential.
For many years, I enthusiastically attended workshops with other goal-setting enthusiasts, where I wrote long (and overwhelming) lists of goals.
But towards the end of last year, instead of feeling delight at the idea of setting goals, I felt dread.
When I thought about setting goals, there was a little voice in my head that screamed, “Please don’t make me do this!”
So I stopped, and I listened to that little voice.
I’ve learnt that just as you shouldn’t force yourself to wear tight shoes, it’s not always helpful to force yourself to do certain things.
Sometimes you need to try a different approach, which is exactly what I’m doing this year.
I’ve decided to shift my focus from setting goals to running tiny experiments.
It’s a subtle mental shift that takes me from feeling fixed and rigid to curious and playful.
If you’ve ever created a list of goals or New Year’s resolutions, only to abandon them shortly after (and felt demoralised), tiny experiments may be for you.
In this blog, I’ll share what tiny experiments are and how you can use them to have more fun and experience more growth and learning.
In her excellent book Tiny Experiments: How to Live Freely in a Goal-Obsessed World, neuroscientist Dr Anne-Laure Le Cunff argues that traditional goal-setting approaches no longer work in these uncertain times. She states:
“The linear way is wildly out of sync with the lives we live today. The challenges we’re facing and the dreams we’re pursuing are increasingly hard to define, measure, and pin to a set schedule. In fact, a common challenge for many people these days is feeling stuck when it comes to their next steps: instead of providing a motivating force, the idea of setting a well-defined goal is paralysing. When the future is uncertain, the neat parameters of rigid goal-setting frameworks are of little help; it feels like throwing darts without a target to aim at.”
Dr Le Cunff argues that the way we set goals is broken. Not only does traditional goal-setting encourage toxic productivity, but it can also leave us feeling dissatisfied, as if we are constantly failing. She states:
“…they [traditional goal-setting methods] create a discouraging perspective where we are far from success. Our satisfaction – the best version of ourselves – lies somewhere in the future.”
She argues a new approach is required that takes us away from “rigid linearity to fluid experimentation”.
A tiny experiment is a fun, low-stakes way to test out a new behaviour and see if it’s for you.
This may not sound revolutionary, but the power of tiny experiments lies in the mental shift they bring.
Instead of pursuing fixed and rigid goals, when you run a tiny experiment, you open yourself up to exploring new possibilities and stepping into the unknown.
In the book Tiny Experiments, Dr Le Cunff lays out a simple process for designing your own tiny experiments.
The process begins by playing a game of ‘self-anthropology’. In other words, you observe your own life and capture those observations by making field notes.
Here are some things to capture in your field notes:
For instance, yesterday I went to stock up on supplies from a small bulk foods store. I got talking to the sales assistant, who mentioned that she worked at two bulk food stores in different areas. I asked her if she noticed any major differences in the customers between the two stores. Her answer surprised me. She said:
“The customers up in the hills are less rushed. They are more willing to chat. People here seem in a hurry… a bit more fast paced.”
This five-minute conversation made me realise I don’t want to feel rushed or give the impression I’m in a hurry and have no time for a chat. I want to experience more calm in my life.
That’s the first step when it comes to designing a tiny experiment: gathering a rich source of observations.
The next step is to come up with a research question and a hypothesis (i.e. an idea you want to put to the test).
I know this part may sound serious and scary, but trust me, you don’t need to be a scientist to come up with a research question and a hypothesis to test.
There’s a magical word that can help to kick-start the process: Maybe.
Maybe if I checked my phone only at certain times in the day, I’d feel calmer?
Maybe if I put my phone away 30 minutes before going to bed, I’d sleep better?
Maybe if I exercised for 30 minutes each morning, I’d feel calmer and less stressed?
Maybe if I got up and walked on my treadmill every 30 minutes for 5 minutes, I’d have more energy?
Maybe if I rode my bike and walked more (instead of driving), I’d feel more relaxed and less busy?
These are examples of potential research questions I’ve brainstormed.
The word Maybe is incredibly powerful. When you use the word Maybe in this way, it sparks your curiosity and opens you up to exploring new possibilities.
Once you’ve come up with a question, you then turn it into a hypothesis.
Below is a figure from the book Tiny Experiments that illustrates how to turn an observation into a research question and a hypothesis.
Last year, I ran various tiny experiments, several of which focused on cultivating calm.
I had noticed that my days often felt hamster wheely, rushing from one activity to the next. I wanted to feel calmer and more grounded.
With this in mind, I designed the following tiny experiment:
After I finish delivering a presentation, I will lay flat on the couch for 15 minutes and do nothing. I’ll do this for the next 5 days.
So, for the next five days, I conducted my lying flat tiny experiment.
After lying flat for 15 minutes, I’d check in with myself: How do I feel? Do I feel less stressed? More grounded? I also reflected on how I felt at the end of the day.
By doing these quick check-ins, I was collecting data on my tiny experiment.
After I’d completed this tiny experiment, I took a step back and asked myself, “How did that tiny experiment go? Was it a success? Do I want to continue doing this?”
I concluded that the experiment had been a success. I discovered that forcing myself to do nothing was a good way to regulate my nervous system and feel calmer.
But not all of my tiny experiments have been quite so successful.
Last year, I ran a tiny experiment that completely backfired.
If I had taken a traditional goal-setting approach, I would have said I had failed dismally and hung my head in shame.
But there is no failure when it comes to running tiny experiments, only growth and learning.
This tiny experiment involved selling clothing on Depop (an online fashion marketplace for buying and selling secondhand clothes).
Tiny Experiment:
I will put up one item of clothing on Depop every day for the next 30 days.
My hope was to earn some extra cash, declutter my wardrobe and extend the life of some of the clothes I no longer wear.
But as I ran this tiny experiment, it became clear it wasn’t working: I was buying more clothes than I was selling!
I’m embarrassed to admit this, but it was Winter time, and I became obsessed with cashmere jumpers (I loved the warmth and soft feel against my skin).
After listing an item for sale, I found myself scrolling through Depop, searching for more cashmere jumpers to buy. I would enter a trance-like state, as if I was using a poker machine.
If I had been selling more items, maybe I could have justified this behaviour, but I was selling very few items. Once postage and fees were factored in, I was earning only $1–$2 per item!
It wasn’t until I bought and put on a jumper that had clearly shrunk in the wash, revealing my belly button in all its glory, that I quickly came to my senses and said, “Enough!”
It was time to get off the consumer treadmill!
I quickly aborted this tiny experiment and deleted my Depop account.
You could say this tiny experiment was a flop. But I didn’t beat myself up about it. As I mentioned earlier, there is no failure when it comes to tiny experiments (only growth and learning), and I had learnt something valuable from this experience.
What did I learn?
I learnt that selling clothes online was a trap for me. It exposed me to all these other beautiful items that were really hard to resist.
I also discovered that taking photos of my clothing items made me appreciate each piece a little more. In the end, I decided to hold on to and wear several items I had taken for granted.
I also learnt that it was okay for me to quit the experiment and try something else. There was no shame in quitting. In fact, quitting was the right thing for me to do.
You always have options when it comes to your tiny experiments. You get to be flexible because nothing is set in stone.
When you are new to tiny experiments, it can feel daunting to design your own experiments from scratch.
I find it helpful to see examples of other people’s tiny experiments. This is why I belong to Dr Le Cunff’s Ness Labs community: a community of people excited about growth, learning, and running tiny experiments.
In this online community, people share their tiny experiments with each other.
Here is a small selection of tiny experiments people have shared with me:
As you can see, these are all small behaviours performed over short time periods. Most of them can be slotted into even the busiest of schedules. This is the power of tiny experiments.
After you’ve conducted your tiny experiment for the specified duration, you have three choices:
For example, in my experiment of doing nothing, I scaled the 15 minutes on the couch back to just 10 to see if I could still get the same benefits. To my delight, 10 minutes seemed to work just as well as 15 minutes.
When you run a tiny experiment, you’re constantly tweaking and refining what you do, which means you’re continuously learning and growing as a person. This helps build momentum and a feeling of success.
At the end of the day, tiny experiments are a fun, low-stakes way to improve your life. With your sights no longer fixated on some far-off destination, you have the freedom to experiment and see what works best for you.
On these days, the temptation to procrastinate and distract oneself can be strong.
I recently spent a few days with my family in the countryside, where I enjoyed reading by a crackling fire. But when I found myself back home in my office, I struggled to get back into the swing of things.
I was experiencing a full-blown holiday comedown.
For some context, I had printed out the slides for an upcoming presentation that I needed to practise, but I felt resistance every time I looked at the slides.
My mind screamed, “Nooo! I don’t want to practise!”. Without even thinking, I kept pushing the slides away like a toddler smooshing their vegetables around on their plate.
But at some point, I caught myself in the act. Without berating myself, I managed to turn things around and ease into my practice.
In this blog, I’ll share a couple of simple strategies I use to get a better handle on my procrastination and overcome resistance.
According to Procrastination scholar Tim Pychyl, procrastination isn’t a time management issue. It’s an emotion management issue. If you can get a better handle on your emotions, you’ll have a better handle on procrastination.
Let’s unpack this…
Often, when we procrastinate, it’s because we’re trying to avoid experiencing negative emotions. The task we need to do brings up feelings of discomfort (e.g., boredom, fear, guilt, anxiety, and stress), so we avoid the task to make ourselves feel better.
But avoidance makes no sense when you think about it.
Oliver Burkeman explains the problems associated with avoidance in his book Meditations for Mortals. He writes:
“The more you organise your life around not addressing the things that make you anxious, the more likely they are to develop into serious problems – and even if they don’t, the longer you fail to confront them, the more unhappy time you spend being scared of what might be lurking in the places you don’t want to go. It’s ironic that this is known, in self-help circles, as ‘remaining in your comfort zone’, because there’s nothing comfortable about it. In fact, it entails accepting a constant background tug of discomfort – an undertow of worry that can sometimes feel useful or virtuous, though it isn’t – as the price you pay to avoid a more acute spike of anxiety.”
Dutch Zen Monk Paul Loomans labels the tasks we avoid as ‘gnawing rats’. He says these tasks “eat away at you under the surface”.
Have you noticed that whenever you try to avoid a task, it’s usually still on your mind, using up your precious mental resources?
That’s what Loomans means by the task eating away at you under the surface.
Why does he use the peculiar term ‘gnawing rat’? Looman’s daughter used to have pet rats that would eat loudly under his bed, keeping him awake at night.
Loomans explains that if you can befriend your gnawing rats, you can transform them into white sheep. Just like a white sheep follows you around passively, once you transform a task into a white sheep, it’s a lot easier to make a start.
The question is, how do you transform a ‘gnawing rat’ (a task you are avoiding) into a white sheep?
The key is to approach procrastination from a place of curiosity.
Loomans suggests creating a positive, open relationship with the task you’ve been avoiding. You need to sit with it or visualise the task. Instead of giving yourself a hard time, get curious about why you have such a strained relationship with this task.
Loomans advises:
“… you’re not being asked to immediately do whatever it is that’s gnawing at you. The assignment is only to establish a relationship with it. You let all the various facets sink in and then let them go again.
The rat no longer gnaws at you, and it has settled down. It’s no longer trying to get your attention, but follows quietly behind. It now has white legs and curly fleece – it’s turned into a white sheep.”
I decided to follow Looman’s advice with this presentation I had been avoiding. To begin with, I pulled out my slides and I just sat with them.
I closed my eyes, tuned into my body and asked myself:
“Why am I feeling resistance towards practising this presentation? What’s going on?”
Within 30 seconds, the answer came to me. The resistance came from how I thought I’d feel after doing my speech practice: exhausted and emotionally depleted.
You see, when I practice a presentation, I typically go into turbocharge mode. It’s like I’m delivering the real thing: I gesticulate, project my voice, pace around the room, and rely on my memory and the pictures on my slides to remember the content (I don’t refer to my notes).
All of this takes a lot of mental and physical effort.
So, naturally, when I looked at my slides for this one-hour presentation, I felt flat and heavy.
I equated one hour of presentation practice with having a fried brain by the end.
But then I had a brilliant idea. I thought, “What if this practice session didn’t have to feel like a hard slog? What if it could be fun, light and easy but still effective? What would that look like?”
It immediately occurred to me that I had to shorten my practice session, which brings me to the next strategy . . .
To keep my practice session fun, light and easy, I settled on doing just five minutes of speech practice.
Instead of pacing around my office and practising in turbocharge mode for an hour, I sat myself down with a hot chocolate. I set a timer for five minutes, pulled out a mini whiteboard and started recalling the content (scribbling out and drawing pictures of what I needed to say).
When the timer went off, I checked my notes to see how I went (What did I remember? What did I forget to say?).
Then, I checked in with myself – “How am I feeling after that mini practice session?”. Instead of feeling depleted, I was feeling good! I felt less overwhelmed by this presentation. The resistance had subsided. As Paul Loomans would say, the presentation had transformed from a gnawing rat into a white sheep!
I felt excited, even a little inspired.
I could have easily kept practising for another 10-20 minutes, but I decided to give myself a break to re-energise (I got up and walked on the treadmill for 2 minutes).
This gave me insight into the need to vary the intensity and mode of each study session, depending on my energy levels and what I have planned for the rest of the day. Sometimes it’s good to go into turbocharge mode, but not always.
Not every study/work session has to be hardcore. Work sessions that leave you feeling completely drained by the end can be counterproductive. As Professor BJ Fogg says, “Tiny is mighty”.
Firstly, tiny study sessions are less scary for your brain. Five minutes of speech practice and flashcard practice feels easy. You think, “I can do 5 minutes!”.
In contrast, one hour of study feels scary for your brain, which means you’re more likely to procrastinate.
When you go tiny, it’s also easier to give your full focus to the task at hand. Here’s the thing about focus: focusing your mind takes a lot of your brainpower. And you have a limited supply of brainpower!
As you sit there and study, your brainpower gets depleted. But research shows one way to boost your attentional resources (i.e. your brainpower) is by taking regular breaks. If you study in short focused bursts and then take a break, you can stay refreshed and ensure your study sessions are effective.
But most importantly, tiny study sessions help to create momentum, and they leave you feeling good!
I tend to push myself to the point of exhaustion when I practise my talks. But I can see now that this makes it hard for me to want to practise in the future.
By dedicating just 5–10 minutes to the task and enjoying it, I’m more likely to do another 5 minutes (or more) of practice tomorrow. Doing five minutes of practice every day is infinitely better than doing no practice or cramming a long practice session in the day before.
You’re not going to go from good to great in one tiny study session. But you can make meaningful progress and create the momentum you need to keep going.
So, don’t turn your nose up at five minutes of flashcard practice or 10 minutes of doing a practice test. If done with focus and intention, that’s a solid study session that can set you on the path to success.
Image credit:
Toddler (featured in image 2): “Skeptical” by quinn.anya is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.
Rat: “Fancy rat blaze” by AlexK100 is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.
