Are your habits keeping you from your dreams? Dreaming vs. doing

A revelation struck me recently: the actions I believed I performed daily bore little resemblance to my actual habits. 

Someone observed that my daily routines diverged completely from my perception of them. This disconnect between self-image and reality proves more common than we acknowledge.

You’re not actually doing what you think you’re doing. You are your habits. This is the discrepancy between intention and execution.

I harboured ambitions of publishing content daily across multiple platforms—YouTube, Instagram—creating aesthetic documentation that served primarily as my visual journal. My motivations remained personal rather than performative. These posts function as my diary, explaining why I speak extensively in vlogs about lessons learnt during specific periods. 

Upon tracking completed tasks rather than intended ones, 

I discovered what I actually accomplish daily. To reach any goal requires aligning thoughts with actions. Using clothing as an accessible example: desiring to dress elegantly daily necessitates actually wearing those outfits, not merely assembling them mentally. Taking photographs becomes essential. When dissatisfied with images, one must either seek aesthetic locations or create attractive corners at home. My wainscoting wall serves this exact purpose, garnering compliments regularly.

The critical question becomes: does each action move you closer to your goal or further from it? 

This applies to both immediate objectives and long-term aspirations. For extended periods, I convinced myself that I posted substantial style content. I did not. This realization triggered peculiar anxiety as I watched contemporaries who began creating content simultaneously surpass me significantly. They built communities—my ultimate aspiration. Whether two people or two hundred, cultivating connections with fabulous individuals would satisfy me completely.

I believed I documented outfits regularly. Instead, I posted close-up photographs or activity updates—acceptable content, certainly, yet not outfit documentation. 

Moreover, my posting frequency remained sporadic. Why did I fail to execute my stated goal? I wished simply to archive my ensembles, viewing my wardrobe inventory, styling choices, and occasional missteps. This principle applies broadly: I thought I journaled consistently. I thought I exercised regularly.

Recently I attempted a life reset after discipline gradually eroded. 

Decline arrives incrementally rather than suddenly. Life progresses normally until some precipitating event reveals how far standards have slipped. Those familiar with my character know discipline defines me. 

My upbringing instilled rigorous habits: 

waking at five o’clock daily, practicing instruments immediately, maintaining household cleanliness, prioritizing growth over stagnation. Years of decline preceded my reset, which required only months of focused effort. I approach my desired state, feeling content as positive energy radiates outward. 

Years ago, a classmate made an observation I cherish still. I have always embraced fashion and style, though my mother opposed fashion magazines vehemently. She would tear down mood boards I created from magazine clippings, despite my brother displaying band posters freely. When CDs included fold-out artwork—Radiohead’s connected pieces, individual band member portraits—he posted them prominently. I desired equivalent self-expression.

Teen Vogue became my bible during Amy Astley’s tenure as creative director. I consumed each issue religiously. My mother removed my mood boards, declaring that I must not venerate materialistic things or embrace consumerism. Her prohibition intensified my passion for fashion. 

I cared nothing for luxury brands or expensive accessories like Prada backpacks marketed toward teenagers. I cared about style itself—about how Gwen Stefani, also from Orange County, wore colorful, interesting, unique outfits instantly recognizable as hers. This signature quality fascinated me: immediate visual identification constitutes identity capital, self-expression, artistic creation.

My distinctive teenage style led me to sew clothing, eventually receiving requests from friends for custom embroidery and hand-stitched items. I worked for love rather than payment, delighting in the craft. I continue hand-sewing garments today, eschewing machines in favor of traditional couture techniques.

During one Halloween when classmates dressed in costumes—though I did not—a girl approached me afterward. She explained that costume-wearing typically marked someone as dorky or trying too hard, lacking coolness. However, had I dressed up, she would have respected it greatly. I received this as tremendous compliment, recognition of my established style. 

Other girls resembled Lauren Conrad, including one friend with Vogue or Nordstrom internships who endured bullying from fellow interns despite her elegance. She eventually abandoned these opportunities because of cruelty from fashion industry gatekeepers.

Reflecting on this friend—now an alumna possessing incredible, elegant style since childhood—I realise her authenticity. She pursued genuine passion until bullies derailed her. I receive numerous cruel comments myself. I do not want to let this happen to anyone. 

A successful influencer friend who began posting after me, initially reaching out for collaboration when his following remained small, now far exceeds my reach. He creates content for men similar to what I produce for women. I recognise my inconsistency: I fail to post regularly.

Perhaps you similarly overestimate your consistency. 

I once believed myself exceptionally fit. Looking back honestly, my peak conditioning occurred when I simply moved joyfully—ice skating, dancing, fencing, running, hiking—without conceptualising activities as “working out.” That period of maximum consistency coincided with viewing movement as play rather than obligation.

I now create accountability through public declaration. 

Those wishing to join me as accountability partners should subscribe, comment, share goals, receive notifications. I am establishing systems while rewriting goals, clarifying exact desires after experiencing mild identity crisis. 

Why do I fail to simply execute?

The simplicity proves maddening. We overthink extensively, convincing ourselves we pursue interests actively. Then someone else appears, achieving level one thousand despite identical age, background, opportunities. They simply execute while we do not.

What you believe you do differs from reality. 

I convince myself I lack sufficient clothing for outfit posts. I own clothes; I simply fail to wear them, fail to combine them creatively. Similarly, my partner’s friends discuss passionate pursuits without executing. One friend works considerably harder while another lags behind, citing exhaustion or various excuses. I believe the latter will eventually succeed, though more slowly. Success requires realigning thoughts with actions, currently disconnected entities.

This misalignment proves acceptable because working toward any goal yields eventual success. 

Examine your actual daily efforts. 

Do they advance stated objectives? After work, do you immediately consume beer, eliminating productivity? Some people exercise post-work, then cook, meal prep, plan subsequent days, finally relaxing with preparations complete. They relax while engaging hobbies they genuinely love.

Currently I obsess over organising my life—perhaps not noble, yet sensible presently. I clean devices, identify recurring problems, address postponed issues daily until resolution requires no conscious effort or problems disappear entirely. 

This approach helps me overcome overthinking, simply executing tasks. Initial attempts appear awkward, cringeworthy, yet surpassing that discomfort enables mastery.

Reviewing past YouTube content, I questioned whether posts constituted summer memories or Los Angeles activity recommendations. I prefer not becoming that type of creator. I desire living fully, inspiring others to elevate pleasant life aspects—grand gestures or polished details. 

Examining Instagram revealed only three relevant posts this year. Why do I think myself accomplished when I have produced minimal content? 

In my mind exists intention rather than execution. I want these things rather than doing them.

Simply execute. Be awkward, embarrassing. Learn through initial failures. 

Discuss whatever interests you, redirect course, refine approach. Archive or remove early posts later, laughing at growth demonstrated. Whatever you desire, do it daily in small increments. Small daily actions create tremendous differences in self-perception, accomplishment, fulfillment, goal execution. 

Execute tasks especially when motivation wanes. 

Integrate actions naturally, embody existence until realization arrives: I am doing this now. You will observe consistent streaks across checklists, planners, fostering justified pride. We overthink constantly, believing we pursue interests while someone else reaches extraordinary heights despite equivalent circumstances. Simply execute stated intentions.

Why claim accomplishment without production? My reality comprises desires rather than execution. 

Instead of watching yourself have a slow death of a gradual decline, simply execute. Be imperfect. Learn painfully. Discuss interests freely, redirect, refine. Remove early posts later, appreciating growth. Whatever you desire, do it daily incrementally. Small daily actions transform self-perception, accomplishment, fulfillment tremendously. 

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