The mind lies: How to turn resistance into action

Sometimes, achieving a goal isn’t just about willpower. It’s also about the conversation we have with ourselves. And that conversation can change from one day to the next: some days it encourages us, while on others it sabotages us, confuses us or pushes us to give up before we’ve even begun.

Something interesting happened to me today. At first, it seemed insignificant, but it ended up teaching me a huge lesson. I wanted to study. I genuinely did. I love learning, I love discovering new things… but I find it incredibly difficult to sit still, confined within four walls. My body craves air, movement, nature. And even though I had every intention of studying, my mind started playing its usual tricks.

I tried studying at home, but everything there becomes a distraction, everything turns into restlessness. When I’m there, my mind starts its usual monologue: “This is too much. Better do something else. Better leave it for later.” So I tried going to the library… and that didn’t work either. I found myself fighting against that inner voice saying: “What’s the point of studying the history of psychology? It’s useless. Better to do something practical, something useful, instead of so much history.”

And that’s when I realised something: it wasn’t a lack of interest. It was resistance. It was my mind trying to avoid discomfort, protecting itself from effort, from the unknown.

So I decided to change the setting. I drove to the sea. I lowered the seats, opened the windows, let the breeze come in, lit a candle and created this little space of my own — a refuge, a laboratory, an improvised cabin on wheels.

And then something unexpected happened: I studied. Not only did I study… I immersed myself in the subject with curiosity, calm and presence. Every now and then, I went for a walk, got some fresh air, even went for a swim. And none of it — the sea, the movement, the space, the freedom — distracted me. It regulated me.

It was there, reading about psychoanalysis, that I realised what all of this was teaching me: history isn’t just dates and names. History is perspective. It’s understanding how we got here, why we think the way we do, how an idea takes shape, how a society changes. Historiography — the perspective, the context, who tells the story and how they tell it — matters just as much as the event itself.

And then I understood something even more personal: my thoughts aren’t the absolute truth either. They also have context, history, filters, fear and tone. Sometimes my mind deceives me, not because it’s my enemy, but because it’s designed to avoid effort, change and uncertainty.

That day, I learnt that it isn’t always about forcing myself. Sometimes it’s about supporting myself, helping my mind by changing my posture, my surroundings, my breathing. Often, it’s about allowing my body to tell my mind that I’m safe, that I can keep moving forward, that I can stay with the process.

It isn’t just mental discipline. It’s a balance between body, mind and something deeper: that inner intuition that knows what I want to build, even when my mind protests.

Today, I confirmed something:

I don’t always need to change the goal. Sometimes I just need to change the setting, the approach or the story I’m telling myself. And when that shift happens, motivation appears. Not before I begin, but DURING the process.

Today, studying by the sea, I didn’t just learn about history. I learnt about my own. And I discovered that moving forward, even if I do it in my own way, is already a win.