Discipline is self love.

Epictetus;- “No man is free who is not master of himself.” 

Discipline is not a soft word. 

It begins with “dis–”, a dull thud that drops flat out of the mouth, like a sigh that’s already given up.
Then comes “ci–”, clipped and caught at the back of your teeth, like biting down on something bitter.
And it ends with “–pline”, the hard p bursting from the lips like a gunshot before dissolving into a thin, metallic hiss.

Even phonetically, the word suggests misery. No softness. No comfort. Just fucking awful. 

discipline
UK /ˈdɪsɪplɪn/
Noun - the practice of training people to obey rules or a code of behaviour, using punishment to correct disobedience.

That’s the dictionary definition. And it’s why so many people get discipline wrong. They think it’s about punishment. Obedience. Doing what you’re told.

But discipline, in the truest sense, isn’t about being mastered by someone else. It’s about mastering yourself.

If you look at the military, discipline means obedience. A soldier doesn’t get to choose. Orders come down, those orders are followed. That kind of discipline is about survival - it has to be strict, immediate and unquestioned. Lives are at stake. 

But you’re not a soldier. And, not to sound overly dramatic, the only life at stake is your own. 

You’re not living under orders, and your life isn’t at risk if you fail to get out of bed at 5am. And yet people drag the same rigid, punishing definition of discipline into their personal lives and then wonder why adhering to some basic self-imposed guidelines feels unbearable.

The truth is, real discipline isn’t about punishment at all. 

It’s about love.

Discipline is self-love. It’s treating yourself like someone you’re responsible for.

If you truly love yourself, you set personal boundaries. A contract between you, and you, that you, will not break.

If you respect yourself, you don’t leave your life on autopilot, and just ‘trust that the universe will provide’ (because it wont).  

And if you want any chance of being happy, you have to make yourself your own number one priority, because you sure as shit aren’t going to be anyone else’s.

This is the glorious spiral: self-love creates discipline, and discipline creates self-respect. Every time you follow through on what you said you’d do, you prove to yourself that you can be trusted. That trust then compounds. It changes how you see yourself.

I’ve experienced this firsthand over the last 12 months, and I’d like to share what I’ve learned with you. 

Earlier this year, I launched a consultancy firm, designing and installing custom Ai automation systems. 

I wanted to do something completely different. Something unexpected. Something that gave me autonomy over my career and finances. 

What I hadn't bargained for, was that this change in direction would demand, not only a completely different skill set, but also a completely different relationship with myself. 

I haven't become magically more focused or motivated than before, I’ve had to work on it. 

What changed was discipline. 

I stopped treating focus and deep work like punishment, and started treating it like proof. Proof that I could count on myself. That I am who I say I am. Alex Hormozi puts it nicely: the most important work, he says, is the work you do, when nobody is watching. It’s the work that tells you, and everyone else, “I am who I say I am.” . 

You can’t cheat this. You can’t fool yourself. 

And my life looks completely different because of it. I have structure, I have consistency, and better than that, I have results. Not perfect, obviously, but solid in a way it never was before. 

For me, discipline is structure. 

Mornings are identical to one another; Hydration. Supplements. Fresh air. No phone. 

Training five times a week, whether I feel like it or not. (And I rarely do.)

My sweet spot for deep work (No phone. No external stimuli. One task. One tab) is between 10:00 and 13:00, so I stick to that. No excuses. 

I’m running my new company with the same consistency I train with - I show up when there's no external recognition or guarantee of success.

None of it is glamorous. 

Most of it is invisible. 

Much of it is boring. 

But it’s the unseen proof that tells me I can rely on myself.

And it stacks. That’s the beauty of the little victories. One little victory alone doesn’t count for much. But 10 little victories and you’ve conquered an entire morning. 

And that’s the thing about discipline: at some point, it stops being something you do. It becomes something you are.

You can force yourself into a habit for a while. But sheer willpower only takes you so far. Real change happens when your actions harden into identity.

I don’t “try” to train anymore. I’m just a person who trains.
I don’t “try” to focus on deep work. I’m just someone who values his mornings.

It’s not performative. It’s not motivation. It’s just James.

Discipline isn’t about willpower, it’s about identity. You act in line with who you believe you are. So the quickest way to build discipline is to start seeing yourself as the kind of person who follows through on things.

Here’s the loop: every time you keep a promise to yourself, you reinforce that identity. “I am who I say I am.” Break it, and you chip away at it. Keep it, and the belief hardens.

That’s why discipline feels lighter over time. It’s not dragging yourself uphill forever. At some point, you’re just a person that climbs hills.

But identity alone isn’t enough. None of us have infinite willpower. You can’t just snap your fingers and change who you are. 

If the environment you live in is built for distraction, distraction will win. Every time.

A soldier doesn’t wake up each morning and choose discipline out of thin air. His entire world is engineered for it. Uniforms, drills, rituals, hierarchies, consequences. The structure does most of the work. The individual just slots into it.

In civilian life, we pretend it’s different. We imagine we’ll hold the line with “motivation” alone - while living in homes stuffed with instant dopamine, phones buzzing with endless distraction, and kitchens stocked with food designed to keep us craving. We set ourselves up like addicts, then blame ourselves for needing rehab.

The environment is stronger than you are. If the biscuits are in the cupboard, you’ll eat them. If your phone is on the desk, you’ll scroll. If your workspace is chaotic, then your focus will be too.

The trick isn’t to fight temptation but to remove it. To make the right choice the easy one, and the wrong choice the hard one.

protocol;
- Put the phone in another room during deep work.
- Lay out your gym kit the night before.
- Clear your desk until there’s nothing left to do but the work.
- Keep water in reach, not fizzy drinks. Books in reach, not Netflix or porn.

This is what psychologists call choice architecture - you design the path so the decision makes itself. You’re not relying on some fragile surge of motivation. You’re relying on deliberate resistance. Discipline shouldn't be a constant wrestling match. It’s not about heroic effort every day. It’s about building an environment where the disciplined choice is obvious, natural, and automatic.

Over time, this external scaffolding fuses with identity. You don’t even notice it anymore. You don’t “decide” to go to the gym - the bag is at the door, the habit is in place, the identity has formed. The environment made it inevitable. And before you realise it, you’re standing at a squat rack. Probably close to tears, because fuck squats. 

I’m reminded of something Sir Anthony Hopkins (yes, THAT Anthony Hopkins) once told us at drama school. His advice on becoming a great actor was simple: believe you are one now. The rest will follow. That’s how identity works. You don’t wait until the evidence piles up to believe it - the belief itself is the catalyst. Act as if you are already disciplined, and in time your behaviour bends to fit that belief.

Discipline isn’t something you chase; it’s something you step into. Every day. 

Which really just means;

Stop dodging discomfort. 

Put the bar on your back and squat, knowing it’ll be shit, knowing you’ll hate it, but do it anyway.

If you know you’re undisciplined, that’s the deal you’ve got to make with yourself, I’m afraid. You’re going to have to get used to being uncomfortable for a while. 

“This might be a bit shit now, but I trust the process enough to know that the long term benefits will be glorious.”

Comfort whispers that you deserve an easy life. That you’ve “earned the rest.” It’s alluring. But comfort is like a debt collector. Skip the pain now and you’ll pay it back later, with interest. In health. In opportunity. In regret.

Modern life runs on comfort. Cheap food. Endless entertainment. Infinite convenience. It feels good in the moment, but it robs you of your energy, your focus, your strength, all slowly ebbing away. 

The discomfort never really goes away. You just get to choose which version you live with. The sharp pain of effort now, or the dull ache of decline later. One builds you. The other hollows you out. Real discipline is choosing the sharper pain. Voluntarily. Not because you enjoy it. Not because it feels noble. 

Just because you’ve decided you’re worth the harder path.

Comfort will keep you stuck. Discipline will set you free.

Because fuck comfort.

Take care

James