Quitting is Addictive
Most people don’t realize this — but quitting feels good.
Not forever. Just long enough to make you believe it’s harmless.
It starts small.
You skip one workout.
You tell yourself you’ll make it up tomorrow.
Then tomorrow becomes next week, and next week becomes “I’ll start again Monday.”
And before you know it, quitting isn’t an accident anymore.
It’s a pattern.
We think of quitting as some big, dramatic moment: the resignation letter, the breakup, the surrender. But most of us quit in smaller, quieter ways long before those moments ever arrive.
You quit every time you hit snooze instead of showing up.
You quit every time you eat what you promised you wouldn’t.
You quit when you stop chasing the goal that once lit your soul on fire because it got uncomfortable.
And every time you give in, you reinforce a neural pattern that says, “It’s okay to stop when it gets hard.”
That’s the addiction: the short-term relief of giving up. The brain rewards it with comfort. The body learns it. And before you know it, quitting becomes your default.
Your brain is wired for survival, not success. It loves predictability and comfort and most of all safety. When you choose to stop, whether it’s skipping the gym, delaying the hard conversation, or bailing on your goals, it releases dopamine, the same feel-good chemical that rewards progress.
Here’s the catch: that same hit rewires your brain to associate avoidance with reward.
You’re literally teaching yourself that quitting feels good. That’s why quitting is addictive.
It’s not weakness; it’s brain chemistry.
The first time you quit, you feel guilt. The second time, you feel justification. The third time, you feel nothing. That’s when it becomes dangerous. Because now quitting has moved from decision to identity.
You start calling it “taking a break.” You start convincing yourself you’re being realistic. And soon, mediocrity disguises itself as balance.
But deep down, you know that you could’ve kept going or had one more rep, one more mile, one more try left in you, but you just didn’t take it.
The only way to break the addiction is to build a stronger one: an addiction to keeping promises to yourself.
That’s what I discovered as I wrote The Overcomer’s Journey.
I Learned that commitment is a muscle and that every time you choose discipline over comfort, you strengthen it. Every time you finish the thing you said you’d do, even when it’s inconvenient, you reinforce a new identity, one that says, “I’m not the kind of person who stops.”
And it’s not about being perfect. It’s about being aware. Every small decision either feeds the quitter or the overcomer in you.
Start noticing your patterns:
When do you back off?
When do you justify the easy way out?
Where are you negotiating your potential?
Then decide to quit quitting.
Every person who’s ever achieved greatness has wanted to quit. The difference is they didn’t. They pushed through the whisper that said “stop” long enough to hear the other voice that says, “keep going.”
Because real power comes from doing the thing you don’t feel like doing. You do it over and over until the discipline becomes who you are… That’s when quitting loses its grip.
If quitting is addictive, so is progress.
The more you show up, the more your brain craves showing up.
The more you follow through, the more your mind expects you to.
So, the next time you’re tempted to quit, remember:
You’re not just skipping one thing: you’re shaping who you become.
“Every time you quit, you train yourself to surrender. Every time you finish, you train yourself to win.”
👉 This is what I mean by quitting quitting.
Learn how to break the pattern and rebuild your identity in The Overcomer’s Journey — available now at masellimindset.com
When Life Doesn’t Ask Permission
There’s a moment in everyone’s life when the ground shifts beneath your feet.
Sometimes it’s a diagnosis.
Sometimes it’s the phone call you never saw coming.
And sometimes it’s the quiet realization that the version of life you imagined no longer exists.
Mine came when I was admitted to the hospital. The doctor held my hand as she told me I had the same kidney disease that had ravaged my family. They were few but those few words changed everything.
Suddenly, my world was turned upside down. The safe little life I had built was rattled. The thing is, Life didn’t ask for my permission… it just happened.
And in that moment, I realized something: you can’t control what happens, but you can always control how you respond.
Most people spend their lives waiting for things to be fair. Guess what, life isn’t always fair. Life isn’t here to serve you and put things on a nice silver plate for you to take. Hot tip: You can’t wait for life to be fair or for everything to be sitting on a tee for you. You have to make it happen if you want to change.
Fairness keeps us comfortable.
Growth demands discomfort.
Life will throw challenges that don’t make sense. You’ll face storms you didn’t cause, fights you didn’t start, and pain you didn’t deserve. And while you can’t choose the timing, the challenge, or the outcome, you can always choose who you become through it.
That’s the pivot point. It’s the moment when victims become victors.
When the diagnosis came, I had two options: surrender to fear or take control of what I could.
I chose to build. I built discipline. I built structure. I built a mindset strong enough to carry a weakened body.
Each day became a small act of rebellion against my circumstance. I chose to have a different outcome, I chose to take action.
Because that’s the truth most people miss—you don’t have to ask life for permission to change.
You just start moving.
This became the foundation for my book The Overcomer’s Journey.
The idea that you can rebuild from any setback isn’t just motivational, it’s practical. There’s a framework for it:
Accept Reality – Not with defeat, but with awareness. You can’t change what you won’t face.
Take Ownership – Stop waiting for rescue. No one’s coming. You are the rescue.
Create Momentum – Small daily actions compound faster than any burst of inspiration.
Build Identity – You’re not “trying” anymore; you are the person who does hard things.
This framework carried me from hospital bed to marathon finish line in 346 days. Not because I was superhuman, but because I stopped waiting for permission.
You can try to avoid discomfort, but it finds you eventually.
You can wait for motivation, but it fades quickly.
You can wish for peace, but it’s built through battle.
Life doesn’t ask for your consent; it demands your response.
When life doesn’t ask permission, neither should you.
You don’t owe the world an apology for your comeback. You owe yourself the chance to live it.
“You can’t control the storm that finds you. But you can control whether you drown or learn to swim through it.”
If you’re ready to learn how to swim through life’s storms and take back control of your story, dive deeper in The Overcomer’s Journey.
👉 Available now on My Book Tab.
Pain Is An Illusion
A few weeks ago, I wrote about the phrase “choose your hard”. The idea that easy today leads to a harder tomorrow, while intentional hardship today creates strength and freedom later. In that same vein, I’ve come to believe something even more powerful:
“Pain, the kind we choose, is an illusion.”
When Pain Is a Teacher, Not a Threat
Let me explain. We can’t avoid pain. But we can choose when it shows up.
You can choose a little soreness in the gym today, or deal with chronic pain and physical limitations 20 years from now because you didn’t move your body. You can choose the short-term discomfort of failure and rejection, or live with the long-term pain of regret and untapped potential. And maybe most importantly:
You can choose to see pain not as the enemy, but as the signal you’re doing something that matters.
The Illusion of Pain (and What It Reveals)
When I run long distances, pain shows up. Legs get heavy. Knees tighten. Breathing shortens.
But if I stay in it long enough, something interesting happens:
My body finds a rhythm. My mind starts to drift. And suddenly… I’m not thinking about the pain. I’m thinking about everything else — life, memories, possibilities, purpose.
Ultra-runners call this space the pain cave. It’s not a place to fear — it’s a place to train. A place to explore. A place to evolve. Because pain, in that context, isn’t there to break you. It’s there to reveal you.
Discomfort ≠ Danger
The same thing happens when I meditate, especially using a Shakti mat. It’s essentially a mat with thousands of spikes that presses into your back and shoulders. It sounds like torture, but it’s actually a tool for focused healing and intentional discomfort. When I lie down on it, my instinct is to flinch. My brain screams, “This hurts! Stop!”
But I breathe through it. I remind myself: “This isn’t damage. This is discomfort. And I’m still in control.”
And just like that, pain transforms into presence. Tension gives way to calm. The illusion fades.
Pain Is a Signal — Not a Stop Sign
Most people stop the moment they feel pain. Why wouldn’t they? From the time we’re kids, we’re taught pain means something is wrong or that it’s dangerous.
But not all pain is harmful.
· Some pain is a signal of growth.
· Some pain is the body adapting.
· Some pain is old stories being rewritten.
The same way a muscle has to tear before it rebuilds stronger, we sometimes have to lean into the discomfort to build the mental and emotional strength we need for what’s next.
Your Body Lies to Protect You
In researching my next book, I dug into the science of pain perception.
Here’s what it says:
Pain is highly subjective. Two people can experience the same stimulus, and rate the pain level wildly differently.
Mental framing changes everything. Studies show that when people expect pain to serve a purpose (healing, strength, transformation), their pain tolerance increases significantly.
Neuroplasticity is real. You can train your brain to reinterpret pain; not as a stop sign, but as a checkpoint.
That means you don’t have to eliminate pain, you just have to learn how to move through it.
What Does That Look Like?
Pain at mile 4, but your training plan says 5? Good.
Get the 46th “no” from potential clients? Good.
Heart pounding before speaking in public? Good.
None of that pain is malicious. It’s not there to destroy you. It’s there to build you. Discomfort is the cost of transformation. And learning to embrace that discomfort with gratitude, not resistance, is how you become unstoppable.
Final Message: Pain Is a Doorway. Walk Through It.
The pain of progress is not the same as the pain that broke you.
When you choose your pain, when you lean into discomfort, when you train your mind to recognize the illusion… That’s when you win.
Because on the other side of that illusion?
Freedom. Growth. The person you were meant to become.
CTA
This week, flip the script. Ask yourself:
What discomfort am I avoiding that I actually need to grow through?
Is it the pain of starting over?
The pain of putting yourself out there?
The physical pain of a workout you’ve been dodging?
The emotional pain of showing up consistently with no applause?
Write it down. Lean into it. And remind yourself: “This pain is not here to break me… It’s here to build me.”
Pain is temporary.
Growth is permanent.
And you’re stronger than the illusion.
Hard Isn’t Always Physical
When I sat down to write my book, The Overcomer’s Journey, I only had a rough idea of what I wanted to say. I figured it would be about discipline, grit, resilience and targeted to people dealing with kidney issues. But as I dove deeper into the book, I found that what I was saying is universal. And over time, my social media naturally followed that path: physical challenges, hard work, pushing limits.
But what did not make the highlight reel… The hardest things I’ve done weren’t physical.
The Other Kind of Hard
Before writing my book, the last thing I’d written was a term paper or a Pearl Jam-inspired song lyric in high school. So, putting together nearly 200 pages of personal stories, vulnerability, and inspiration? That was hard as hell.
Getting it published? Harder.
Promoting it? Even harder.
Oh by the way, I work full-time and have a family.
What about building a social media presence? Or writing a blog every week? Or sending out a newsletter to the five people brave enough to sign up? Or making content for 69 followers who might scroll past it in 1.4 seconds?
That’s hard too. And while I’m grateful for every single follower, there are days when I seriously wonder what the hell I’m doing.
Comparison Is Easy. Creating Is Hard.
I scroll and see someone in a cape talking about their spoon’s ability to talk or crazy conspiracies with a hundred thousand followers… and here I am pouring heart, soul, and strategy into every post, hoping it lands with someone. Just one person.
This isn’t a complaint. It’s a reminder that non-physical challenges — the mental, emotional, internal ones — are just as brutal.
And they require the same mindset:
Endure.
Focus.
Keep going even when it feels invisible.
When the World Feels Heavy
And then there are weeks like this one. A prominent public figure is assassinated. Another school shooting. A woman needlessly loses her life on a subway car. The country, more divided than ever.
All of it… hard. All of it… heartbreaking. And then someone I care about tells me their loved one has cancer.
Every. Single. Bit. Hard.
I'm not here to unpack politics or debate sides.
But I am here to offer perspective; something I learned the hard way after my transplant. Life is short. Unpredictable.
And way too precious to spend sitting in comparison, self-doubt, or stagnation.
What’s the Point?
Here’s what I’ve realized: hard isn’t exclusive to the physical.
Writing a book was hard.
Showing up for a community that’s still finding me? Hard.
Processing a world that feels like it’s breaking? Also hard.
But you know what’s even harder?
Quitting on yourself.
Every week, I remind myself why I started:
Not for the likes.
Not for the metrics.
But for the one person who feels unseen, unheard, or undone. The one person who might read this and remember that they’re not alone.
Maybe that person is you right now.
Maybe you’re in a season where the weights you carry aren’t on your back or shoulders; they’re on your mind and heart. And no one else sees them.
But you’re still standing. Still showing up. That’s not weakness. That’s strength.
Final Message: You’re Doing Better Than You Think
So, if you’re pushing through something no one else can see. If you’re carrying mental loads, quiet fears, personal battles… Know this:
You’re not invisible. You’re not behind. You’re not failing. You’re becoming.
Take a breath. Take inventory.
What non-physical “hard” are you carrying right now?
Write it down. Don’t minimize it. Name it. Honor it. Then take one step forward… however small.
If this blog resonated with you; share it with someone else who might need a reminder that not all battles are visible but they’re still worth fighting.
You're not alone in this.
Let’s keep showing up… together.
Be the Unmatched Sock
What a missing sock can teach us about hope, belief, and becoming.
We’ve all got one lonely sock in the drawer or maybe several mismatched socks. The ones whose partner vanished into the laundry vortex, never to return. And yet… you don’t throw them away.
You keep them. Just in case, because maybe, just maybe, a match will reappear.
Maybe one is stuck in a pant leg or hiding in a hoodie sleeve. Maybe there’s still hope. So, you hold on to it or them.
Now let me ask you this:
If you can have that much hope for a missing sock…
Why can’t you have that same hope for yourself?
That sock isn’t just a sock.
It’s a metaphor. It’s the symbol of hope you didn’t even know you had. You didn’t discard it. You didn’t label it useless. You gave it time. You gave it space. You believed in its return.
And if you can do that for a sock…
Why not do that for your dreams?
For your goals?
For the version of you that’s been buried under doubt, fear, or fatigue?
FACTS:
You are not broken.
You are not missing.
You are in a moment of in-between. You’re in the chapter before the reunion.
And every day you show up, even mismatched, even uncertain, you’re closer to becoming whole.
You don’t throw yourself away because you’re not perfectly paired with purpose yet.
You don’t have to be complete to be worthy. You don’t need the “matching piece” to start moving. Sometimes, the unmatched sock gets a new role: A cleaning rag. A DIY puppet. A cozy sleep sock.
In the same way, maybe this version of you has value right now, even before the full picture comes together.
The Challenge
This week, I challenge you to:
Be the unmatched sock.
Keep showing up even when it’s not perfect.
Believe in the version of you that’s still searching.
Have hope for your reunion with the dream, the purpose, the passion.
Because here’s the truth:
If you can believe in a sock you haven’t seen in six months…
You can believe in yourself.