I'm four weeks into living off my lifestyle startup. The good news is I have a lot more free time to try all the things I've always wanted to try¹. The bad news? In the absence of external accountability, my first two weeks of freedom looked a little like this.
College me may have made a competition out of how fast I could chug
This note emerged from an attempt to put my own motivation through a centrifuge and see what floats to the top. The results were a bit gross.
Fuel 1: Spite
During the first chapter of my productive life, my engine ran purely on high-octane, concentrated spite.
The classic media example of spite-fueled motivation is the breakup to personal transformation story, but I turned it into a lifestyle by being mad at everyone.
The problem with spite is that while it burns hot, it's not sustainable:
At some point in college I realized I actually liked everyone around me.
Shit.
What to do now?
Artist’s depiction of my 2004 Toyota Camry
Fuel 2: Anxiety
I contend that 1st gen parents run the table on anxiety-to-dollars pipeline. Bonus points if you didn't get financial support. Sure, caffeine works well, but nothing motivates quite like a deeply ingrained sense of scarcity to keep you from slacking off. You might eventually ask yourself "who am I really doing this for?" But by then, you've got the career and health insurance to afford the therapy.
College makes for a spectacular anxiety gym. If it doesn’t wash you out entirely, the system of chasing grades, internships and leadership positions can keep you busy enough to avoid doing any real introspection. Consulting³ does an even better job of weaponizing insecurity⁴.
The biggest drawback of anxiety-driven motivation? It stops you from taking high-risk bets with potentially massive payoffs—like building a company or pursuing non-traditional careers. For me, this meant clinging to my day job for 2 years before finally going full-time on YM.
Which brings me to today. No gods, no masters.