I used to craft a list of goals on January 1st. From 2014 to 2021, I was a zealot, dedicating hours and hours to this alter.
My goal sheet had three columns: 1 year, 5 year, and 10 year. The idea came from a productivity book. And to the exercise’s credit, I accomplished a few of the goals, like running a marathon and getting back to 185 pounds (at a point, veganism and medical school whittled me down to McConaughey in Dallas Buyer’s Club). But now, as I think about what really moved the needle toward becoming more myself, it wasn’t goals. It wasn’t the extra pounds or the extra fourteener I hiked in Colorado. It was an identity overhaul.
Peter Attia had James Clear, author of Atomic Habits, on his podcast back in 2021. Peter re-released the episode this week. James, a habit researcher, pointed out that new habits often fail because the person attempting the change defaults back to the person they were who didn’t do them in the first place. But, if the person changes their vision of who they are and begins hanging out in groups of people that manifest this change, their evolving identity can attract the relevant and productive habits. You must change the identity of the person attempting the goal.
Before 2021, I saw myself as a physician. From that set point, I sought happiness. I used to list goals like “open an integrative psychiatry clinic in the mountains” or “start a therapy practice focusing on mindfulness” or “surf half the day and practice medicine the other half”. These weren’t bad ideas. Most had an element of soul. But after achieving these goals, I wasn’t closer to who I really wanted to be: myself. Because I didn’t want to be a physician.
I wanted to be a writer. So, beginning in 2022, I wrote. And for months, nothing happened, as I wrote about anything that came to mind. But slowly the repetitions compounded, until a new identity became my default identity. I noticed an inner switch from, “What would a physician do today?” to “What would a writer do today?” and new goals flowed naturally into awareness. Still, this is a daily practice. My old inertia pulls me backward more than I’d like. But I know I’m closer, to whatever we’re all after, than I was on those previous January 1sts.
What kind of person do we hope to become? Who do we want to be? Let learn to walk in those new shoes.
To livin’ a life we love,
Ryan Fightmaster, MD
(P.S. Since our move, I’m frequently asked, “Why Asheville?” Mostly, I say that it felt right. Until this week, the choice hadn’t made anymore sense than that. Then, mountain biking made its return, and something clicked. I chronicled the insight in this week’s essay.)
