You can’t do it all.

That simple truth sums up 20 years of my life experience and holds a lesson I wish I had learned 19.9 years ago. It would have saved me so much time, frustration, sadness, and pain.

We live in a remarkable time, one overflowing with exposure to other people’s lives. It’s easier than ever to see how others live. Whether it’s the life of a stay-at-home parent or someone shooting into space. We witness the life of a rocker, a harpist, a shy piano player, a Substack writer, a New York Times bestseller, even Stephen King. It’s an extraordinary era for that.

But like most things, it comes with a downside.

We’re wired to seek rewards. Our brains crave that dopamine hit that tells us to keep digging, keep going, keep scrolling, keep pressing buttons, keep posting. Despite their sophistication, our brains still carry primitive wiring. They can be hijacked by this deep neurobiological system.

Social media algorithms capitalize on this. They don’t just show you what you like; they mix in content you may not care about to keep your brain searching. This is the same principle seen in lab rats pressing buttons for intermittent rewards. When a reward is unpredictable, the brain becomes hooked and keeps pressing endlessly. Casinos use this tactic perfectly with slot machines, giving small random wins that keep players hopeful and engaged, even when they lose money overall.

For 20 years, my life looked like this. Chasing various versions of what I thought my best life might be. Programmer, entrepreneur, fitness guru, author, actor, comedian, rockstar. I imagined being each of them and thought I’d be happier that way.

My brain kept whispering, “What about this other life?” Each time I neared committing to one path, I was drawn to another. When starting a business, I’d feel excited at first. Filing paperwork, buying domain names, building a website, coding an app.

Then reality hit. The long hours coding, promoting, cold calling, customer service. It all became tedious. The novelty wore off. I never learned how to find joy in the work itself but anchored my happiness on the outcome. When progress slowed, my dopamine-starved brain sought new stimuli. It convinced me to find a new path, telling me the current one wasn’t right for me.

Twenty years of this cycle.

I’m annoyed with the time lost but trying to give myself grace. Recognizing the pattern is huge, and I don’t intend to repeat it.

In fact, I’ve learned a lot along the way. Working in many industries and meeting diverse people has been enriching. For that, I’m grateful.

The key lesson: it’s better to move steadily in one direction than to sprint briefly in many. Because hopping around means you’re barely past the start line instead of miles down the road.

In other words?

You can’t do it all. And that’s exactly the point.

Each of those fascinating lives I admired is singular. One life lived fully, with intent and purpose. Social media confirms this. The largest accounts tend to focus tightly on one thing. They post only cooking videos, or stand-up clips, or music skits, or gaming streams. Rarely do these creators spread their content widely. Even aggregators tend to focus within a niche.

That’s how we should approach our lives if we want to reach what matters most. Life is full of possibilities, but to find your destination, you must choose a lane and stay in it.

We have to find beauty in the work and in the daily choices we make. We have to accept that we can’t do everything, nor should we try to. Focus is a gift. Olympians are Olympic champions because they dedicate their lives to mastering one skill. We cheer their relentless pursuit of greatness in that singular arena. Yet with our own lives, many of us try to do it all.

I write this for myself as much as for you. To learn to be okay with saying no to other paths. To be comfortable choosing one. To find joy and meaning there. We deserve that. We also deserve the freedom to change course if a path no longer fits.

But I must be honest when I abandon something:

Am I quitting because it truly doesn’t resonate anymore?

Or am I running toward a dopamine hit, chasing distraction because the work got hard or boring?

Did I see a 30-second video that pulled me to something new?

I have to remind myself every day:

I can’t do it all.

And that is exactly the point.

If this spoke to you, I’d love to hear:

What’s one path or goal you’re committing to right now?

Drop a comment and share your experience with focus or distraction.

And if you know someone struggling to pick a lane, please share this with them.