“Some beliefs that are objectively false can be practically useful.” —Nick Maggiulli, “Why Luck Isn’t Real”

Most of us probably have that friend that complains constantly about their job. Their financial situation. Their relationship. When you first met them, you probably sympathized. You probably wanted to help! 

Though after some time passed, you might’ve noticed they didn’t intend to do anything about it. They’re still working the same job. Making the same financial mistakes. Dating the same person. And they’re still complaining about it, making excuses for why improvement is outside of their control. It can be frustrating.

This is often easier to recognize in others, and harder to recognize in ourselves. 

It’s 3 PM on a Tuesday, and I look up from my computer between meetings and realize I haven’t eaten or consumed water since breakfast. I’m suddenly aware of how hungry I am—and as an extension, cranky. 

In an effort to be as effective as possible with my “deep work” (thanks, Cal Newport), I block off Monday, Wednesday, and Friday each week to maximize sustained focus and minimize interruptions from the outside world. As a result, my Tuesdays and Thursdays usually become back-to-back marathons, often beginning before 8 AM and leaving me crawling across the finish line past dinner time. 

And as anyone who’s tried to cram a bunch of work into a shortened week will tell you, it rarely goes according to plan.

This meant that—on this particular Tuesday—my aspirations for the day had long been left in the dust of meetings that ran on too long or unexpected roadblocks that stymied timelines. Not only had I not finished the work I knew I needed to complete, but a few new urgent items had found their way onto my list. I hadn’t exercised, eaten lunch, or prepped dinner as I had planned to do. A load of wet laundry sat damp and mildewing in the washing machine.

A sense of overwhelm descended swiftly, blanketing my mood in a self-indulgent pity party. Normally, I’d let this mood carry me out to sea and ruin the rest of my day. I had imagined my husband coming home from work, and how I’d lay my corporate sacrifice at his feet: Look at how much I had to do today, I’d tell him, Let’s order Popeyes chicken sandwiches and melt into the couch, ignoring my own goal for workday dinners to be “cooking nights,” excused by my own poor planning. 

Worst of all, this all-too-common ordeal didn’t initially prompt me to interrogate my own ability to set boundaries or stay focused on the right things. It left me feeling sorry for myself. The experience of falling short—at the end of a day that felt unreasonably busy—was (and is) the perfect cocktail for externalizing blame.

But then I was reminded of something my BOSSY co-host Tara said a few weeks earlier that had buried itself in my subconscious: “I can’t be around people who aren’t actively designing the type of life they want to live. If you aren’t happy, do something about it.” 

The quote, which seemed to materialize in response to my spiraling, was telling me: You need to take some accountability and interrupt this well-worn pattern.

With an arsenal of tools at my disposal, I started with my favorite: I closed my laptop and went for a walk around the block. Finally away from my desk, I was able to engage in my go-to neurotic pastime of wearing headphones while manically talking to myself, so passersby would assume I was regaling a human on the other end of my AirPods with an incredibly detailed version of my to-do list. 

It finally occurred to me that what was bothering me was the way I had allowed the chaos of the day to supersede my other goals: I hadn’t responded to texts. I hadn’t exercised. I was already resigned to the $30 UberEats delivery instead of the chicken breast and brussel sprouts waiting patiently in my fridge. Ultimately, I had created this situation I was now excusing myself for being in, and I needed to stop enabling it to continue.

Might it have been true that I had too much on my plate that day? Sure. Could I have excused my bad mood? Of course. But believing the outcome was my fault—and therefore within my control to fix—appealed to me more in that moment. Sometimes, this control is a delusion, but one with a valuable outcome: radical accountability. It doesn’t mean you’re necessarily going to retain ownership of every item on the to-do list—sometimes delegating is a way to take control, too.

This opportunity arises a lot, I think—with disproportionate outcomes in money and career. I needed radical accountability to manage my own stress and mood, but Tara had intended it as a management technique: “If someone on my team is underperforming, I take responsibility for that. That’s on me. Where am I not communicating clearly enough about my expectations?” 

Surely there are people who truly underperform, though, right? I pressed her. 

“Well, sure,” she replied, “but the final ‘that’s on me’ is keeping them around once I know that’s the case.” 

Something told me that if I had called Tara up that afternoon and complained about my self-inflicted predicament, she would’ve been straight with me: “I don’t get it. It’s 3 o’clock. What’s stopping you from doing a 20-minute walk and getting a second wind? Go eat a protein bar, drink some water, and get back at it. And next time, don’t schedule yourself the same way. You shouldn’t have been in this position to begin with.” 

Sometimes, the “truth” won’t be as useful as the delusion that returns your agency to you. Maybe the challenge in your life, finances, or career that’s souring your outcomes really isn’t your fault. 

But if believing it’s within your control allows you to change it, this approach says, that would ultimately generate a more favorable outcome, no? If you don’t like something in your life, it says, do something about it.