Your brain doesn’t care if your habits help or hurt you — it only loves a loop.

You see something you need to do.

Like taking out the trash. Or going through the mail. Or putting away the book you pulled from the shelf yesterday.

You hear yourself say: That’ll only take a couple of seconds. I’ll do it later.

So you put it off.

Then the next time you walk by, you see the trash. The mail. The book. And you tell yourself again: I’ll do it later. And slowly, your life starts to jam up.

Because what you’re doing is creating a pattern. A loop of saying you’ll do something later—and then never doing it. You convince yourself it doesn’t really need to get done. That it’s fine to leave it for later, even though you know deep down: later never comes.

Eventually, you stop even noticing it.

The mail that started as a few pieces is now a crate’s worth. The trash now takes multiple trips to carry out. The books are scattered across the floor. And then what happens?

You feel overwhelmed by it all.

It becomes a mountain you can’t climb. You don’t even know where to start.

What’s the point of taking out the trash if there’ll just be more? Why put the books back if you’re just going to take them out again? Why go through the mail if it keeps piling up?

This is a negative loop. And I know it well.

I spent years stuck in loops like this—around work, relationships, fitness, meditation, therapy (or the lack of it).

Your brain loves a feedback loop. It’s constantly looking for reinforcement. And it doesn’t actually care whether the loop is helping or hurting you. It just wants to keep strengthening the pattern.

Because patterns feel safe. They’re known. They’re comfortable. Your brain loves comfort. It craves the predictable. It tries to flatten the world around you until everything is familiar and easy to process.

So it keeps writing the same story. Over and over again.

And each day, your brain looks for evidence to make these stories feel more and more true.

Until one day—

You just can’t anymore. You’re exhausted by the loop. You want something new. You want to feel good. You want the promotion. The business. The relationship. The therapist. The peace. You want to take out the fucking trash and go through the goddamn mail.

So what do you do?

You start a new loop. Remember: your brain loves a pattern.

So give it a new one.

The most powerful habit I’ve ever built is painfully simple:

That’s it. It doesn’t have to be huge. In fact, it shouldn’t be. Don’t say “I’m going to run an ultramarathon” if you haven’t even gone for a walk in months. Say this instead:

That’s it. Just one. Even if there are 100 other books in a messy pile, you don’t worry about them. You put one book back.

You set that intention. You follow through on it. And then pause. Maybe you feel nothing. Maybe you feel something. Either way: you did the thing you said you were going to do.

And tomorrow?

You do it again. One more book.

And when that voice tries to jump in—Just do it later—you’ll remember the promise you made. You’ll treat yourself like someone you love. Like a friend. A pet. Someone who matters.

You’ll say: “I told myself I’d pick up this one book and put it back. And I don’t want to let myself down.” So you’ll do it.

That’s how the new loop starts. It’s shaky at first. Uncertain. Unfamiliar. But in a good way. You can keep it small forever if you want. One book a day. One tiny intention followed through. That alone is enough to start changing everything.

Because when you keep showing up for yourself—when you start keeping promises—you’re training your brain to believe a new story:

And that is a powerful story.

It becomes a foundation. One day, you’ll feel ready for more. Maybe you feel like going for a short run once a week. Just 10 or 15 minutes. You’re not trying to be a runner. You just want to start. So you tell yourself you’ll do it.

And when the day comes—

You do it.

Momentum builds. Confidence grows. A new loop takes hold:

And the more you believe this story, the more the old one starts to fall apart. Eventually, you sign up for the ultramarathon. You apply for the dream job. You go for the promotion. You book the therapy appointment. And when the old pattern whispers:

You’ll figure it out later. You’re not the kind of person who gets those things.

The new voice in your brain snaps back:

Because this part of you—the part that shows up—is strong now. Reliable. Energized. Ready.

You trust it.

You are it.

And you didn’t get here by accident. You didn’t get here through divine intervention. You didn’t get here from a 12-second reel that hyped you up. You got here because you did the work. The small, quiet, repetitive, unsexy work.

You showed up for yourself.