The Price of Discipline: Reflections on the Burden of Performance
Listen to the full article on spotify here As a 34-year-old man who's lived a life of discipline, I can tell you this: The burden of performance is heavy, and the weight of it is often overlooked by those around you. Society loves to cheer for the comeback story, for the person who pulls themselves out of a dark place. But there's little recognition for the man who's walked the straight line all his life, who has always been responsible, disciplined, and focused on the future. I've never been the guy who partied until 3 a.m., who dabbled in drugs, or who spent recklessly without a care for tomorrow. My life has been one of sacrifice, of saying "no" when others said "yes," and of choosing the hard path because I knew it was the right one. But living this way comes at a cost, and that cost is often paid in loneliness and resentment. When you present yourself as a strong person, people assume you're okay. They assume you don't need support, that you're fine on your own. And so, they don't check in. They don't visit, whether you're living five hours away from family or ten minutes down the road. Very few people care about your well-being when you seem like you've got it all together. But the truth is, those of us who live this way often feel like we're just a source of energy for others—people want things from us, whether it's advice, money, or favors, but they rarely offer anything in return. This life can be incredibly isolating. I've spent many nights alone, wondering why the world seems to favor the irresponsible, the reckless, the ones who live for the moment without a thought for the future. There's a part of me that resents the fact that women often choose those guys—the ones who are out partying, who are carefree and wild—over the responsible ones. I can't help but feel that if I were living that kind of life, I'd have more companions, more people around me. But because I've chosen discipline, because I've stayed focused on building a future, I've ended up with some very lonely nights where the only person clapping for me is me.