About motivation, Grind and the Comfort Zone gambit

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Motivation is a promiscuous bedfellow 

-Chirag Roy


I quote this all the time to friends, family and anyone else who would bother to listen to my meandering train of thought (often masked as life advice). I felt ridiculously wise when I first came up with this line. This is it I thought; the bedrock of my inevitable TED talk which will hit 20 million views and propel me to a life of internet stardom. I had all but started googling ‘How to handle fame’.


But then, a problem arose. I couldn't help but feel like a fraud because for all my talk about not relying on motivation, I was hopelessly addicted to it. Like a junkie desperate for the next shot, I found myself unable to get any kind of work done without finding a way to sufficiently incentivize myself. I had fallen into the very trap I kept on warning others about and I just couldn't get myself out. Much like that obnoxious vegan secretly gorging on tandoori chicken behind closed doors, not only was I scamming the public but also coming off as a complete douche on my apparent moral high horse. A stallion purchased off of a lifestyle I was myself incapable of living.


But be kind to yourself Chirag, the inner voice said. It’s a hard time with a lot of uncertainty. You are doing fine, you need not push yourself so hard. It’s okay to not be motivated all the time.


For the first time in almost 7 years, I feel stuck in life. I have always felt like I had a goal to push me forward. Class 10 boards came first, then 12th, entrances, internships, placement, something always to push for.. But now, I feel lost. With my degree about to wind up, placements secured and no competitive exams to prepare for I find myself not having a goal to push me forward. And the challenge of adult life is starting to sink in. The freedom it offers can be liberating to many, to do what you want and set your own goals. For me the concept is absolutely terrifying.


I don't know what I want to do with my life. I don't have a dream job or career path.What I do have however is an image. It's me lying in bed, with a cool breeze coming in from the balcony on a sunny spring afternoon. It’s a Sunday and I’ve just had lunch. I'm reading a nice book with an engaging plot. The birds are chirping and the leaves on the trees outside rustle in a blissful symphony. That’s the goal for me. To one day be in a position to laze away my Sunday afternoons without a care in the world.


People my age have dynamic dreams, filled with grit and action. They want to change the world, reach the pinnacles of their careers, make a shit tonne of money ,stand as an example for their peers and as the center of everyone’s attention at family weddings. They dream of growth and progress. Of being better versions of themselves. Of constantly pushing past their ceilings. 

Not me, far from it. I want routine and calm. I want consistency in my work and peace in all other spheres of life. 

 

 

I want the life of a 65 year old pensioner, at 22.

 

And this is what it all boils down to, a combination of too many self help books forcing you to be more productive than a Soviet work-horse sold on the propaganda of swines*, a cruel and relentless social media psyche shoving down the filtered success of peers and a global pandemic snatching all sense of routine and rhythm from life. The ease with which I have slipped into a self sabotaging comfort zone is the reality of many. I constantly feel unproductive but don't do anything about it, I obsess over the success of people I don't even know or even like and being finally given the freedom to set my own life goals, I freeze like a deer in the headlights.


 


But I'm sure I’ll get out of this rut eventually, maybe tomorrow. Time to binge another season of The Office.




*A subtle nod to Animal farm by George Orwell. For all you bibliophiles and pretentious doucebags.

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