2 min read

Rust Never Sleeps

Rust Never Sleeps
Photo by Kevin Jackson / Unsplash

Repainting your house the same shade it’s always been feels like a colossal waste of time, right?

It’s a Herculean effort just to keep the status quo. But let that slide, and watch how time, with its buddy entropy, creeps in, making your vibrant sanctuary a faded memory. This isn’t just about your home’s curb appeal; it’s a metaphor for the relentless upkeep required in every cranny of your life, from the way your business interacts with the world to the invisible threads connecting you to people and technology.

The truth?

Rust never sleeps.

Consider this: aimless snacking - that was my nemesis. Snacking isn't the villain here, but when you're slicing through calories with the precision of a samurai on a mission, those sneaky, unlogged few hundred calories?

Yeah, they're the traitors within your ranks. There I was, nicking fries off my wife’s plate, scooping up the remnants of my kid's ice cream, or declaring a 'dad tax' on his unfinished quesadilla and watermelon slices—earned it, didn't I?

Then there's the casual heist of peanuts from the pantry, a small crime but one nonetheless. None of these culinary indiscretions made it to my calorie-counting confessional. They were the ghosts in my dietary machine, invisible but impactful.

It's all cool, right?

Except it wasn't. Not a peep in the logbook. It’s the kind of habit that doesn’t just bend the rules—it breaks them. And it was time to kick it to the curb.

This wasn’t just about food; it was a symptom of a deeper malaise, a “who gives a damn” attitude that seeped into every pore of my existence. My diet took the first hit, then my daily steps—“9,000 is practically 10,000, right?”—and before I knew it, my gym routine followed suit. “Two sets are good enough,” I’d tell myself.

Laziness, like rust, was corroding my discipline, my very drive.

The domino effect one slack decision can have on your life is astounding. That one compromise on your standards can avalanche into a full-blown retreat from who you aim to be. The lesson? Whatever you do, do it with everything you’ve got. Half-assing is a contagion that’ll rot your ambitions from the inside out.

My advice:

Your plans are an invaluable treasure map, which, if followed diligently, will bring you to your cherished dreams and what you actually want out of life.

So you need to see your plans as sacred. They must be revered and respected… even when a slight deviation seems excusable—especially when a deviation seems excusable.

That’s the key to a better life.

I learned this the hard way, but it’s only when I decided to doggedly sticking to my plans no matter what that everything changed for me.

So here’s the kicker, the question you didn’t know you needed to ask yourself: Where in your life are you letting rust set in?