Chapter 6: The Discipline Illusion – Why Willpower is Overrated
For the first ten years of my life, I was an only child—my mom's first bundle of joy. Like many firstborns, I was spoiled. My mother, on the other hand, grew up as the second oldest in a household of nine. Seven siblings, all competing for love, attention, and even food. Resources were scarce, and she often felt like she didn't get enough. Like any loving parent, she wanted to give me everything she had missed out on.
By the time I was ten years old, I was already pushing 300 pounds. By my teenage years, I was nearing 400. Even as a kid, I believed that we are responsible for our own actions, and I don't mean to suggest my mother did anything wrong. But this was the beginning of a lifelong lesson about willpower and discipline—one that shaped who I am today.
I remember the shame. The deep sadness of looking at my own body, at the rolls of fat that clung to me. The inevitable "you're so fat..." jokes. The nights I secretly cried myself to sleep, just wishing I could be like everyone else. Thankfully, my best friend, Patrick, was there. Patrick was the kind of kid who already had an eight-pack by the time he was ten and could eat all the junk food he wanted without gaining an ounce. But instead of making me feel worse, he inspired me. He made me believe I didn't have to be helpless. I had the power to change—to diet, to exercise, to lose weight, and finally become the person I had always dreamed of—a skinny person.
That's when I became obsessed with the Ab-Doer 3000. It was a marketing masterpiece. I discovered it in a magazine, immediately cut out the ad, and carried it everywhere like a sacred relic. In my mind, this was it. The miracle machine that would change my life. I dreamed about the day it would be mine, about how I would finally lose the weight and transform myself.
And then, one day, it happened.
Ding-dong. The doorbell rang.
I leapt out of bed, bolted to the door, and there it was—my salvation, delivered in a giant box. I hauled it up the stairs faster than I had ever moved on Christmas morning, even faster than the time I unwrapped my Nintendo 64. I tore into the package, my heart pounding with excitement. Finally!
......
Looking back, I don't think I ever used it once.
Instead of being the tool that burned calories, it became just another chair in my room, conserving them. And for the first time, I had to face a painful realization: I failed. Not because the machine was a scam, not because it didn't work. But because I didn't use it. I had wanted to believe I had the willpower to change—to say no to extra servings, to force myself to sweat it off—but I didn't. And in that moment, I wasn't just a fat kid anymore. I was lazy. Pathetic. A loser. Weak.
But I didn't give up.
I tried again and again, always failing, always hoping I could will myself into making better choices. Saying no to seconds. Resisting the comfort of food that provided thousands of easy calories. And then one day, everything changed.
My parents split, and my mom decided to move to Pennsylvania. A quiet house in the woods, where the nearest grocery store was as far away as the entire length of Staten Island. At the time, I was in high school, and I had already built my most prized friendships—Patrick, Rob, and Christine. There was no way I was leaving them behind. I was firm: "I won't go. And if you make me, I'll run away and be homeless."
She saw the seriousness in my eyes and, though it must have been painful for her, she let me stay. She started a new chapter in her life—a little lonelier—while I remained living with my grandparents.
And then something unexpected happened.
Months later, I had lost more weight than I ever had in my life. Without even trying. The excitement, the passion for life, all came rushing back, and I ran with the momentum.
At the time, the Atkins diet was the biggest trend—simple rules, no more than 20 carbs per day. I quickly lost over 100 pounds. The weight was dropping so fast that one of the coaches who knew me stopped me in the hallway one day and said, "Michael… whatever you're doing, stop it. It's not healthy."
I didn't take it as concern—I took it as validation.
I couldn't believe how easy losing weight was. Why had it never been this easy before? I felt like I had unlocked a superpower. People were treating me differently. My whole world changed, and I loved life.
Then I gained it all back—plus some more.
But now I had the secret weapon. The superpower. I knew how to lose weight. So I fired up the willpower machine and started ketosis again. I lost over 100 pounds again. Every compliment, every "Wow, you look amazing!" fed my ego. I lived my second phase of happiness gleefully, soaking in the praise… all the way up to my peak.
Not my peak of happiness, though.
My peak weight: 386 pounds.
And this brings us to the heart of the discipline illusion.
386 pounds. Expecting my first child. Starting my first business. Standing at the bottom of what felt like a never-ending cycle of weight struggles.
I needed to break the pattern.
I knew I had to do something different. The odds were stacked against me, and simply relying on my own willpower wasn't enough. I needed to take the choice away from myself. This time it wasn't just about myself, I also had to consider who I had to be to this innocent soul about to come into this world. I needed to be relentless and do whatever it took.
So I decided to get bariatric surgery.
And I kept it a guarded secret from everyone.
I didn't see it as a shortcut. This time, I took it seriously. I learned everything about macronutrients. I became an expert in weight loss and nutrition.
But I kept it hidden.
Because this wasn't just about losing 3/4 of my stomach—it was about losing my pride.
The pride of having others see my willpower and determination. The belief that I had done it on my own.
They could never know. To this day, I've only told a handful of people. Instead, I lived my whole life knowing the hack. The secret that most don't realize:
Willpower is overrated.
It's not that being strong-willed is a bad thing—it's still important to be determined. But the shame of failing to be as strong-willed as you want to be can destroy self-esteem. The fact that I went to great lengths to hide that I had used a tool to help me—to essentially take away my control and make willpower more effective—is proof of this paradox.
Just like determination is a strength, so is accepting your limitations. Instead of dwelling on weaknesses and feeling hopeless, you can acknowledge them and hack the system to get the results you want. It's in our human nature to crave a sense of control over our lives. Anxiety often comes from hitting a dead end with no visible solution. When you believe your willpower should be enough, but it isn't, that increases feelings of hopelessness.
I know several people who had the same surgery but lacked the discipline to maintain their results. They lost weight, then gained it all back, now dealing with discomfort on top of their original struggle. The surgery helped me lose 186 pounds. Since then, I've still had cycles of weight gain and loss, along with the mental challenges they bring. But I've learned that accepting the results matters more than judging yourself or worrying about others' judgments.
We are often our own worst enemy. It's important to be proud of progress, regardless of how you achieved it. We're only human, after all.
The Environment Solution: The Five-Person Rule
About six years ago, I came across a quote that changed everything: "You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with."
This became my mantra. People often ask me, "Who are your five?"
But it's not meant to be a quiz. It's a mental guide for understanding how we unconsciously mimic the people around us, absorbing their habits and even their emotional energy. Whether your environment is filled with tempting food or negative influences, one fact remains true: your environment holds more weight than you think.
Have you ever wondered why coffee shops exist? What makes them the choice for remote workers with laptops who could essentially work anywhere? Logically, if we never questioned human behavior, we might assume we'd prefer to stay in bed all day, unconsciously conserving calories. But we don't always.
We saw this clearly after COVID devastated the world in 2020. People were desperate to get out and simply be around others. I remember an app called Houseparty that let you video call friends, and friends of friends could join in. It was the closest thing we had to feeling like we were around others. Yet even through that experience, many still don't see how powerful their environment is. They mistake their excitement for anything but the truth: your environment has more control over you than you'd ever be comfortable admitting.
After COVID, we experienced something new. The number of people drinking alcohol past the point they themselves found acceptable created a growing industry: the non-alcoholic beverage market.
The Teaching Technique: Identity-Based Discipline
My friend John Joseph provided one of the most striking examples of environment design I've ever witnessed. Years ago, while working together on a CBD manufacturing venture, we'd both fallen into the habit of drinking more than we knew we should have. Then one day, without fanfare, John simply stopped. He never touched alcohol again.
What happened next reveals a powerful technique that few people deliberately employ. Years later, John launched a non-alcoholic beverage company, MocktailMart effectively becoming a public ambassador for the alcohol-free lifestyle. What began as a personal choice transformed into his professional identity.
This wasn't just environment design—it was identity design.
The brilliance of John's approach (whether intentional or not) is that it transformed a daily willpower challenge into a matter of identity consistency. Once you've built a public identity as "the non-alcoholic beverage guy," drinking alcohol would create massive cognitive dissonance. It would violate not just a personal commitment but a public persona.
This reveals another facet of the discipline illusion: the most effective form of discipline isn't daily resistance—it's becoming someone for whom the temptation no longer aligns with who you are.
The research supports this approach. Studies show that identity-based habits are significantly more resilient than goal-based ones. When a behavior becomes part of your self-concept ("I'm a non-drinker" versus "I'm trying not to drink"), compliance rates increase dramatically.
You can leverage this same principle through what I call the "Teaching Technique." By positioning yourself as a teacher or advocate for something you're working to master, you create powerful external accountability and identity alignment.
When you teach something:
- You create a public identity that would be painful to contradict
- You develop deeper understanding through the need to explain concepts clearly
- You build a community that reinforces your new behaviors
- You gain access to questions and challenges that accelerate your learning
The connection to willpower is clear: teaching doesn't require more willpower—it bypasses willpower by making consistency with your public identity the path of least resistance.
I've seen the opposite pattern too often: teachers who don't practice what they preach, slowly crushed under the weight of their hypocrisy. They're living examples of willpower failure, trying to maintain a public facade while privately indulging in contradictory behaviors. The mental strain is enormous and usually unsustainable.
Instead, the teaching technique works because it aligns your environment, social circle, daily activities, and self-concept around a single identity. When all these forces point in the same direction, discipline becomes almost effortless.
This isn't about faking expertise. Be transparent about being on the journey yourself. The power comes not from pretending mastery but from publicly committing to the path and bringing others along with you.
Let's take it a step further: Why do people drink in the first place? After pondering this question and investigating, I found an interesting pattern...
Why is AA the most successful sobriety program? Is it the 12 steps? Is it the religious aspect where you put your faith in a higher power? Neither. Even the individuals attending these programs don't realize it—it's the environment. People don't go to bars just to drink. They go to bars to socialize while drinking. Drinking provides the social lubricant, but what a newly sober person truly misses is human connection. While many praise the steps or their faith for their sobriety, they miss the true reason: AA programs provide the social environment they unconsciously crave.
This extends to animals too. One of my mother's dogs gets so excited he becomes overwhelmed with anxiety—panting heavily, heart racing, trying to inch closer because he wants attention. My own anxiety spikes in response, and I snap at him, only to feel guilty moments later. Cesar Millan, the Dog Whisperer, often demonstrated that anxious dogs usually mirror their owners' anxiety. By understanding how emotions—yours and others'—affect daily life, you can take control and guide things in your favor.
Instead of relying solely on willpower, which inevitably fails most of us, the real solution is to design environments that make the right choices easier and the wrong ones harder. This isn't cheating—it's smart. It's recognizing how human psychology actually works, rather than how we wish it worked.
The Research Behind the Discipline Illusion
What I've experienced personally is backed by extensive scientific research. Studies in psychology, neuroscience, and behavioral economics have been investigating this phenomenon for decades.
The concept of "ego depletion"—the idea that willpower is a finite resource—has been demonstrated in numerous studies. Researchers found that after exerting self-control on one task, people perform worse on subsequent tasks requiring discipline. This happens because the same mental energy that helps you resist a donut is the same energy you need to focus at work or remain patient with your children.
This willpower limitation appears in real-world settings too. One fascinating study of judges making parole decisions showed that favorable rulings started at about 65% early in the day, then steadily declined to nearly 0% right before breaks. After eating, the favorable decisions would jump back up. The judges weren't becoming less compassionate throughout the day—their mental energy for careful consideration was simply depleting.
Neuroscience reveals why habits are so powerful. When you first try a new behavior, your prefrontal cortex (responsible for decision-making) works overtime. But with repetition, control shifts to the basal ganglia—the brain's autopilot system. What initially required conscious effort becomes automatic, requiring minimal mental energy.
Even more compelling is that people with high self-control actually report fewer instances of actively resisting temptation. They're not constantly fighting urges—they've simply structured their lives to avoid temptations in the first place. One study found that about 45% of our daily behaviors are repetitive and occur in the same contexts, often without deliberate decision-making.
The power of environment design is starkly illustrated in organ donation rates. Countries with an "opt-out" system (where donation is the default unless you actively refuse) have over 90% donation rates. Countries with "opt-in" systems (where you must make an effort to sign up) have rates under 15%. Same human nature, dramatically different results—all due to how the system is designed.
Counterpoints and Limitations
While the evidence for environment design is strong, there are important nuances to consider. Several large-scale replication attempts of ego depletion studies have yielded mixed results, suggesting the effect might be smaller than initially thought or dependent on specific conditions.
Some researchers argue that belief systems matter too. Studies show that people who believe willpower is unlimited (rather than a finite resource) don't show the typical depletion patterns. Simply believing you have more self-control might actually give you more self-control.
Additionally, motivation can override depletion effects. When stakes are high or rewards are meaningful, people can push through mental fatigue. This suggests willpower isn't simply
a tank that empties, but rather a complex system influenced by our perceptions, beliefs, and incentives.
Cultural factors also play a role. What works in one context might not transfer to another. Designing environments for behavioral change requires understanding the specific cultural and social dynamics at play.
Finally, there's the reality that even the best-designed environments can't eliminate the need for some degree of personal agency. Environmental design works best when combined with intrinsic motivation and personal values alignment, not as a complete replacement for individual commitment.
Environment Design in Action
After my surgery, I realized I could apply this principle to every area of my life. Instead of trying to resist temptation through sheer force of will, I could remove temptation entirely. Some changes were obvious, like emptying my pantry of processed carbs. Others were more subtle but equally powerful.
I started spending time with health-conscious friends who didn't default to meeting at bars. I joined communities where fitness was the norm, not the exception. I transformed my home into a place that supported my goals rather than undermined them.
The results were remarkable. What had once felt like an exhausting daily struggle became almost effortless. I wasn't making better choices through greater discipline—I was making better choices because they were now the path of least resistance.
This principle extends far beyond weight loss. Take productivity: I used to beat myself up for procrastinating, assuming I just needed more willpower. Then I discovered that by turning off notifications, scheduling focused work blocks, and using website blockers, I could triple my output without feeling any additional strain.
Or consider finances: Rather than relying on the discipline to save money each month, I set up automatic transfers that happen the day after payday. The money disappears before I can spend it, requiring zero willpower on my part.
The Science Behind the Solution
What makes environment design so powerful is that it works with human nature rather than against it. We're naturally drawn to the path of least resistance. Instead of fighting that instinct, we can harness it.
Studies in behavioral psychology have shown that people make decisions based on convenience and habit more than rational thought. Take food, for example: A famous study found that simply placing healthier snacks at eye level in a cafeteria dramatically increased their consumption—without a single person making a conscious effort to eat healthier.
The same applies to exercise. People who live closer to a gym are statistically more likely to work out. Not because they're more motivated, but because the effort barrier is lower. If the gym is next door, you're more likely to go than if it requires a 30-minute drive.
This is why changing your environment is far more effective than relying on willpower alone. Willpower is like a battery—it drains throughout the day. But a well-designed environment keeps you on track even when your motivation is at its lowest.
Implications for Personal Development and Social Policy
The research on willpower and environment design has profound implications for how we approach personal improvement and societal challenges.
At the individual level, it suggests rethinking our approach to goals. Rather than just trying to become more disciplined through sheer determination, we should analyze our environmental triggers and systematically restructure them. For example, studies of successful dieters show they rarely rely on constant food restriction. Instead, they modify their kitchens, shopping habits, and social environments to make healthy eating the default option.
For organizations and policymakers, this research provides a blueprint for effective interventions. Traditional approaches focusing on education and motivation ("Just Say No" campaigns, for instance) consistently underperform compared to interventions that change the choice architecture. Companies that automatically enroll employees in retirement plans while allowing opt-out achieve far higher participation rates than those requiring employees to opt in.
Perhaps most importantly, this research challenges our cultural narratives about success and failure. We often attribute outcomes to character—praising the "disciplined" and blaming the "undisciplined"—when environmental factors may be the more powerful determinant. This insight doesn't remove personal responsibility but rather redirects it: our responsibility lies less in forcing ourselves to resist temptation and more in intelligently designing our environments to support our goals.
Applying the Research in Real Life
Understanding this paradox changes how we approach change. Consider what actually works:
Instead of: "I need more willpower to exercise regularly."
Try: "I need to put my workout clothes by my bed and schedule sessions with a friend who expects me to show up."
Instead of: "I should have more discipline with my finances."
Try: "I need to set up automatic transfers to savings that happen before I can spend the money."
Instead of: "Why can't I focus on my work instead of checking social media?"
Try: "I'll install website blockers and keep my phone in another room during focus hours."
This shift in thinking—from character to systems—is liberating. It doesn't mean giving up responsibility; it means taking responsibility in a smarter, more effective way.
My own weight loss journey illustrates this perfectly. After years of failing with pure willpower approaches, I finally succeeded when I:
1. Created physical distance from temptation (no junk food in my home)
2. Surrounded myself with people who reinforced healthy habits
3. Established regular routines that made healthy choices automatic
4. Used tools (like surgery) that changed my environment when necessary
I wasn't cheating by taking these approaches—I was finally being strategic instead of stubborn.
The Path Forward
The discipline illusion isn't about abandoning self-control entirely. It's about recognizing that willpower is a limited resource best saved for truly unexpected challenges—not wasted on recurring decisions that could be solved through better systems.
True discipline isn't about white-knuckling your way through temptation. It's about having the wisdom to design environments that align with your goals, making the right choice the easy choice.
By understanding how our brains actually work—not how we wish they worked—we can stop beating ourselves up for willpower failures and start creating the conditions for success.
So if you're struggling with a habit, stop asking, "How can I try harder?" Start asking, "How can I make this easier?" Because that's what the most disciplined people have known all along.
The people you surround yourself with, the spaces you spend time in, the habits you unconsciously absorb—these shape your future far more than willpower ever could.
So if you're struggling, stop blaming yourself. Stop trying to "push through" on pure determination. Instead, change the game entirely. Build a system that makes the right choices effortless. Because when you do that, discipline stops being a battle. It becomes second nature.
And that's when everything truly changes.
💡 Try This:
Environment Audit
For one week, observe how your environment shapes your choices:
1. Notice triggers: What in your surroundings consistently leads to behaviors you want to change?
2. Track timing: When during the day do you typically make choices you later regret?
3. Document social influences: How do different people in your life affect your decisions?
Then, make one small environmental change and observe the results. Examples:
- Put healthy snacks at eye level in your refrigerator
- Leave your workout clothes by your bed for morning exercise
- Set a 15-minute timer before making any online purchase
The goal isn't superhuman willpower—it's smart design that makes good choices feel like the path of least resistance.