Do I Really Lack Willpower?

The Myth of Willpower (and Other Things We Blame Ourselves For)

A filmmaker whose work I admire recently announced a 30-day challenge. Come up with an idea, film it, narrate it, edit it, post it before midnight, and do it for 30 days straight.

The prize was almost too good: complete it, and you could earn a spot in a small, exclusive group session with him. Free. The same kind of access that normally comes with a $5,000 price tag.

It was generous. It was doable. It was the kind of thing you screenshot and send to a friend with a caption like: This is actually insane.

And then he added a line that stuck to my brain like tape to a sweater:

“I’m confident the group will stay small, because over 90% of participants will fall off. Most people lack willpower.”

At first, I nodded. Because… ouch, but maybe? The internet is full of abandoned plans and half-finished dreams. We all know the graveyard: unused gym memberships, dusty cameras, courses purchased in a burst of motivation and never opened again.

But then I found out about the challenge… seven days late.

Cue the tiny heartbreak.

Not because I needed it, but because it was a rare kind of opportunity: to connect, to collaborate, to network and offered by someone I genuinely respect.

My first instinct was to bargain with time.

I thought: I can catch up.

Then I realized what "catching up" actually meant.

To participate, I wouldn't just have to do the challenge each day going forward. I would have to do that day's assignment and make up seven days of missed work.

So on Day 8, the workload wasn't "Day 8."

It was Day 8 + Days 1–7, stuffed into one already-full life.

And for a brief moment, I almost convinced myself I could do it anyway, because I've done harder things. I could feel that pre-kids version of me perking up, the version that could throw herself into a creative sprint like it was a thrilling adventure.

And then I came back down to Earth, gently, like a half-deflated balloon surrendering its lift against the ceiling.

Because I do have willpower.

I just don't always have time. Or energy. Mostly energy.

Still, I wanted to test my own theory, so I decided to do the day's challenge anyway.

I filmed despite the bad weather.

I filmed while watching the clock because I had to pick my kids up from school.

I filmed while improvising, because there was no perfect setup.

I even tried to recruit my kids into the improv.

My kids did not share my cinematic vision or enthusiasm. They were not interested in being "extras." They were interested in snacks and boundaries.

By late evening, all I had was footage and a phone-sized editing bay. And I did what modern people do: I opened the editing app and stared at the timeline like it was a moral test.

And then dinner, late because of me, arrived anyway. Feeding kids is a non-negotiable day's event, indifferent to my personal ambitions.

My family was right there. And I chose presence over the glowing rectangle.

Not because I'm noble. But because I could feel the tradeoff: if I didn't choose them, the whole evening would vanish into tiny cuts and captions… and I'd still be behind.

Later: bedtime.

I started reading a story and fell asleep mid-page.

No dramatic collapse. No heroic sacrifice.

Just… tired.

The next day I didn't wake up thinking, I lack discipline.

I woke up thinking, I'm running on low battery.

And that's when the filmmaker's sentence came back, and I realized I don't fully agree with it.

Maybe most people don't "fall off" because they lack willpower.

Maybe they fall off because the challenge isn't competing with laziness. It's competing with biology.

With sleep debt. With mental load. With decision fatigue. With kids. With work. With winter darkness. With stress. With the invisible cost of just… being a person with responsibilities.

So now I'm wondering:

How much of what we call willpower is actually energy availability?

How many times have we blamed "character" for what was simply an energy deficit?

And how many people have been told they're inconsistent or uncommitted when the real issue was that their body didn't have enough fuel to support the plan?

I'm not writing this as an excuse.

I'm writing this as a recalibration.

Because if willpower is partly an energy problem, then the solution isn't more self-shaming.

The solution is building a life that supports energy: sleep that actually restores you, light that regulates you, food that fuels you, routines that reduce friction, and maybe yes, strategic tools that make the brain less expensive to operate.

In other words: not forcing discipline like you're dragging a sled uphill, but making the hill less steep.

I still love a challenge. I still respect the 30-day grind.

But I'm no longer interested in using willpower as a scoreboard for my worth.

I'd rather ask a different question:

What would I create if my energy matched my ambition?

And what if "discipline" isn't a personality trait at all, but a biological state we can support?

I missed out on the challenge.

But I didn't miss the lesson: mind your mitochondria.