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This essay invites the reader to notice how effort justification bias—the inner conviction that value must be earned through struggle-shapes their own relationship with rest, creativity, and self-worth.
I recently set out to adopt a more relaxed identity – one where I’m not measuring my days by how much I grind, but rather allowing creativity to blossom naturally. I imagined I’d feel free and inspired, unburdened by the frantic push for productivity. Instead, I encountered something unexpected: a nagging discomfort, as if I were doing something wrong by not constantly pushing myself. It turns out I was bumping into a well-known cognitive quirk of the human mind, something psychologists call effort justification bias.
Effort justification is the tendency to assign greater value to outcomes we’ve had to work hard for. It’s essentially a mental trick to reduce cognitive dissonance: if I suffered or invested a lot, I tell myself it must have been worth it. This bias isn’t strictly rational – it’s more of a protective reflex to defend our ego. Instead of admitting a goal or project wasn’t as rewarding as hoped, we subconsciously inflate its importance to justify all the effort that went into it. In short, our mind would rather rewrite the value of the outcome than consider the possibility that we labored in vain.
For me, this bias has manifested as an internalized rule that I must earn my ease. I’ve spent years tying my self-worth to productivity and effort, so doing less or “just being” often triggers guilt. I’m hardly alone in this conditioning – many cultures measure a person’s worth by their rate of productivity, treating doing as a clearer social currency than being. This mindset breeds a deep belief that relaxation is something that has to be earned, that if I’m not actively producing, I’m somehow losing value. No wonder a simple afternoon off to daydream can feel so uncomfortable; my cultural and personal narratives both tell me that downtime equals failure or wasted time.
My attempt to live in a more relaxed, creative way brought me face-to-face with serious inner conflict. On one hand, I believe in the value of slowing down and I know that creativity often needs breathing room. On the other hand, my ingrained drive to always be working hard was screaming in protest. This is a textbook case of cognitive dissonance, the mental discomfort we feel when our actions don’t line up with our beliefs. I would sit down to relax or casually sketch out ideas, but an internal voice kept whispering that I was being lazy or irresponsible. The dissonance was palpable: part of me wanted to embrace ease, and another part was convinced that if I wasn’t struggling, I must be doing something wrong. It was surprisingly hard to stay present in the moment because a layer of guilt or anxiety hovered over every attempt to unwind.
Another challenge I noticed was my impatience for results. In taking a more relaxed approach, progress becomes less immediately visible – there are stretches of reflection or playful experimentation that don’t produce a tangible product right away. My old mindset craved quick wins or proof of productivity, so when nothing obvious “happened” for a while, I began doubting the whole experiment. I was tempted to scrap it and revert to overdrive mode just to feel busy and useful again. I’ve learned this is a common trap: many people set big goals but then give up when the expected results don’t show up immediately. We tend to underestimate how long genuine change or creative breakthroughs take, so when our initial enthusiasm fades and no quick payoff arrives, we feel like we’re failing. I saw myself teetering on that edge, ready to abandon the slow-and-steady path simply because it didn’t provide instant gratification.
What’s helping me stay the course is reframing how I measure progress and value. I remind myself (frequently) that effort doesn’t always equal value – conversely, value doesn’t always require struggle. Just because something feels easy or enjoyable doesn’t mean it’s worthless. In fact, even psychologists emphasize that we often overvalue things merely because we suffered for them, when in truth “value doesn’t always require struggle.” In the realm of creativity, I’ve also learned to focus on the process rather than fixating on outcomes. Success almost always arrives more slowly than we expect, so the real reward of creative work is in the doing, not the having. Instead of asking “What did I produce today?” I try to ask, “What did I explore or learn today?” By shifting my attention to growth and curiosity, I’m slowly weakening that old “effort = worth” equation that’s been running my life.
Even with these insights, staying relaxed and trusting this process is hard. My brain still yearns for the familiar reassurance that comes from feeling busy or exhausted – that old illusion that if I’m grinding, I must be doing something valuable. Overcoming effort justification bias is turning out to be an ongoing practice in mindfulness and self-compassion. I have to continually remind myself that I’m not “lazy” for taking a step back; I’m allowing creativity to flow in its own rhythm. One idea I came across resonates deeply and bolsters my resolve: it’s not weakness to let go of needless struggle or abandon an approach that isn’t working; in fact, “it’s brave… it means your sense of worth isn’t chained to how hard something was.” In that spirit, I’m gradually unlearning the need to struggle for struggle’s sake. By breaking the mental link between effort and worth, I hope to finally inhabit that relaxed, creative identity I’ve been striving for all along – and to believe, deep down, that it’s totally worth it, even if it didn’t have to hurt.
I recently set out to adopt a more relaxed identity – one where I’m not measuring my days by how much I grind, but rather allowing creativity to blossom naturally. I imagined I’d feel free and inspired, unburdened by the frantic push for productivity. Instead, I encountered something unexpected: a nagging discomfort, as if I were doing something wrong by not constantly pushing myself. It turns out I was bumping into a well-known cognitive quirk of the human mind, something psychologists call effort justification bias.
Effort justification is the tendency to assign greater value to outcomes we’ve had to work hard for. It’s essentially a mental trick to reduce cognitive dissonance: if I suffered or invested a lot, I tell myself it must have been worth it. This bias isn’t strictly rational – it’s more of a protective reflex to defend our ego. Instead of admitting a goal or project wasn’t as rewarding as hoped, we subconsciously inflate its importance to justify all the effort that went into it. In short, our mind would rather rewrite the value of the outcome than consider the possibility that we labored in vain.
For me, this bias has manifested as an internalized rule that I must earn my ease. I’ve spent years tying my self-worth to productivity and effort, so doing less or “just being” often triggers guilt. I’m hardly alone in this conditioning – many cultures measure a person’s worth by their rate of productivity, treating doing as a clearer social currency than being. This mindset breeds a deep belief that relaxation is something that has to be earned, that if I’m not actively producing, I’m somehow losing value. No wonder a simple afternoon off to daydream can feel so uncomfortable; my cultural and personal narratives both tell me that downtime equals failure or wasted time.
My attempt to live in a more relaxed, creative way brought me face-to-face with serious inner conflict. On one hand, I believe in the value of slowing down and I know that creativity often needs breathing room. On the other hand, my ingrained drive to always be working hard was screaming in protest. This is a textbook case of cognitive dissonance, the mental discomfort we feel when our actions don’t line up with our beliefs. I would sit down to relax or casually sketch out ideas, but an internal voice kept whispering that I was being lazy or irresponsible. The dissonance was palpable: part of me wanted to embrace ease, and another part was convinced that if I wasn’t struggling, I must be doing something wrong. It was surprisingly hard to stay present in the moment because a layer of guilt or anxiety hovered over every attempt to unwind.
Another challenge I noticed was my impatience for results. In taking a more relaxed approach, progress becomes less immediately visible – there are stretches of reflection or playful experimentation that don’t produce a tangible product right away. My old mindset craved quick wins or proof of productivity, so when nothing obvious “happened” for a while, I began doubting the whole experiment. I was tempted to scrap it and revert to overdrive mode just to feel busy and useful again. I’ve learned this is a common trap: many people set big goals but then give up when the expected results don’t show up immediately. We tend to underestimate how long genuine change or creative breakthroughs take, so when our initial enthusiasm fades and no quick payoff arrives, we feel like we’re failing. I saw myself teetering on that edge, ready to abandon the slow-and-steady path simply because it didn’t provide instant gratification.
What’s helping me stay the course is reframing how I measure progress and value. I remind myself (frequently) that effort doesn’t always equal value – conversely, value doesn’t always require struggle. Just because something feels easy or enjoyable doesn’t mean it’s worthless. In fact, even psychologists emphasize that we often overvalue things merely because we suffered for them, when in truth “value doesn’t always require struggle.” In the realm of creativity, I’ve also learned to focus on the process rather than fixating on outcomes. Success almost always arrives more slowly than we expect, so the real reward of creative work is in the doing, not the having. Instead of asking “What did I produce today?” I try to ask, “What did I explore or learn today?” By shifting my attention to growth and curiosity, I’m slowly weakening that old “effort = worth” equation that’s been running my life.
Even with these insights, staying relaxed and trusting this process is hard. My brain still yearns for the familiar reassurance that comes from feeling busy or exhausted – that old illusion that if I’m grinding, I must be doing something valuable. Overcoming effort justification bias is turning out to be an ongoing practice in mindfulness and self-compassion. I have to continually remind myself that I’m not “lazy” for taking a step back; I’m allowing creativity to flow in its own rhythm. One idea I came across resonates deeply and bolsters my resolve: it’s not weakness to let go of needless struggle or abandon an approach that isn’t working; in fact, “it’s brave… it means your sense of worth isn’t chained to how hard something was.” In that spirit, I’m gradually unlearning the need to struggle for struggle’s sake. By breaking the mental link between effort and worth, I hope to finally inhabit that relaxed, creative identity I’ve been striving for all along – and to believe, deep down, that it’s totally worth it, even if it didn’t have to hurt.