You can’t “want” more energy into existence.

I saw a reel from a content creator on Instagram who I genuinely respect. He was making the case that if you have giant ambitions, the answer is to just do more. More work than most people would tolerate. More than you even think you have in you.

And I have no doubt he truly believes it, for good reason. That mindset probably carried him far.

Without the caveat of sustainability though, that message can quietly turn into a one way ticket to burnout. The ambition is not the issue. It’s how most people interpret “more,” as pure addition with no subtraction, and energy does not work like that.

The “more” that becomes self-deception

There’s a version of “more” that is basically just self-deception.

It’s the version where you keep everything the same, keep everybody happy, keep all the commitments, keep the same messy routines, and then try to force an extra 20 percent on top through sheer willpower. That is a loan dressed up as discipline.

And that debt always comes due.

Person asleep at a desk at night

It can look like adding one more client, one more committee, one more favour, one more “quick call,” one more course, one more gym plan, one more content schedule, all while pretending sleep, recovery, thinking time, and basic life admin will somehow fit in the cracks.

Your calendar might say it’s possible. Your energy will say otherwise.

Hyperbolic discounting (a mouthful I know)

There’s a term for one piece of what’s going on here, and it sounds complicated, but the idea is simple. It’s called hyperbolic discounting. Basically, the brain treats immediate rewards as louder and more “real” than future costs.

Person looking at a phone at a desk at night

So the pull of a little doomscrolling as a quick break feels urgent. The payoff of going, “Sure, I’ll just figure it out,” is immediate. It feels good because the cost is delayed. In the moment, you think, “But of course.” Later, you realise you played yourself.

We keep overestimating our future capacity. We assume tomorrow’s version of us will be less tired, more disciplined, more motivated! So we borrow freely from that imagined surplus. However, tomorrow does eventually arrive, bearing yesterday’s decisions, not a fresh balance. By the time you notice the damage, the pattern has already been set. And so the cycle continues.

The lesson I’m still learning

I wish I’d learnt the core points discussed here from yet another productivity book or elaborate study (I’m sure it’s in one). But the last few months have taught it to me the good ol’ fashioned way. Only afterwards did I learn the explanations that helped it all make sense. I tried to blindly do more in pursuit of some short-term goals and it created friction, strained a few key commitments, and brought something that meant a lot to me to a natural close once reality had its say.

To take on “more,” making room is the entry fee. If I want to go harder in one direction, something else has to get cut back. Most of the time it is not dramatic at all. It’s a sober trade. Less of this so I can do more of that.

For a season.

Energy, not time

Blue energy transfer illustration

Energy doesn’t appear out of thin air (physics baby!). It gets converted, and some of it gets lost in the process. Finding “extra space” on a calendar does not automatically mean you have the energy to execute well, repeatedly, without it costing you somewhere else over time.

Lately I’ve been seeing more people move away from “time management” as the holy grail, and lean into something that feels way more honest: energy management. A free hour on paper is meaningless if you arrive there depleted.

Productivity then starts looking less like squeezing tasks into gaps, and more like designing your days, weeks, and months so your best energy shows up when it matters.

Sometimes this exercise of making room looks like saying “no” more often than feels polite. For those of us who, to put it nicely, aim to please, the person it guts the most is you, because you are used to proving utility through availability. It can cost you comfort, convenience, and a few of the little badges you quietly prided yourself on. It might even cost you certain relationships, or at least force them to adjust.

A better question

The question is not “Can I do more?” It’s “Do I want this enough to rearrange my life around it?” If the answer is no, that's telling you something.

Until Next time,

Velton

This piece is part of Creator's Current, Velton Gooden Jr.'s ongoing series on creativity, digital presence, storytelling, and practical systems. Originally published on LinkedIn: View on LinkedIn