Choosing Progress Over Perfection
Leo’s first plan had eleven rules, a 5 a.m. alarm, and zero room for error. It lasted four days. His second plan had three rules. It’s still going.
Leo spent most of the summer before university watching self-improvement videos. By September, he had a plan. He wrote it on a sheet of paper and taped it above his desk in his new dorm room.
1. Wake at 5 a.m. 2. Cold shower. 3. Gym for two hours. 4. No porn. 5. No masturbation. 6. No social media. 7. No sugar. 8. Read 50 pages. 9. Meditate 30 minutes. 10. Journal every night. 11. No video games.
At the top, in capital letters, he wrote: MONK MODE.
Day one
Day one was incredible. Leo woke at five, gasped through the cold shower, and was at the university gym when it opened. He read his fifty pages, meditated, journaled, and went to bed at nine feeling like a different person.
On day two, he was exhausted. He’d only slept six hours, his body ached from two hours of lifting, and he spent his afternoon lecture fighting to keep his eyes open. He still ticked every box, barely.
Day three
On the third night, Leo had a wet dream. He woke up in a panic. One of the videos he’d watched had said that any release “drains your progress” and “resets your energy.” He lay awake at four in the morning, scrolling forums on his phone, which broke rule six, reading increasingly dramatic claims about what he’d lost.
He skipped the gym that morning because he was too tired. The plan above his desk now had two broken rules on it, and it was only day three.
Day four
On day four, he slept through the 5 a.m. alarm. He woke at ten, missed a lecture, and felt something collapse inside him. I can’t even do four days.
What followed was a blur: a whole afternoon of social media, a bag of sweets from the vending machine, gaming until midnight, and porn. By the time he fell asleep, he’d broken nearly every rule on the list, and he felt like a total failure.
A plan for a robot
That weekend, Leo’s older cousin Sofia, who was a physiotherapist, came to visit and saw the sheet above his desk. She read it slowly.
“Who’s this plan for?” she asked.
“Me,” Leo said. “Well. The me I’m supposed to be.”
“It’s a plan for a robot,” she said. “Two hours of training every day with no rest days? I’d tell my patients that’s a recipe for injury. And you’ve got eleven rules and no room for one bad night’s sleep.”
He told her about the wet dream and the forums. Sofia looked at him for a moment. “Leo, wet dreams are completely normal. Your body does that. It’s not a failure and it’s not draining anything. Who told you that?”
He didn’t have a good answer. The video’s creator had sounded so sure.
The second plan
That night, Leo took down MONK MODE and wrote a new plan. It was much shorter.
One rule: no porn. Two habits: in bed by midnight, and gym three times a week.
For each habit, he wrote a minimum version for bad days: In bed by 12:30 at the latest. If I can’t make the gym, ten minutes of push-ups and squats in my room.
He thought about the other rules. Some of them, like reading and journaling, he liked. He decided to add them later, one at a time, once the first ones felt easy. Others, like the 5 a.m. alarm and the cold showers, he realized he’d only adopted because someone online had made them sound essential. He let them go.
He read up properly on the things that had scared him, and found that much of what he’d been told was exaggerated or simply untrue. The anxiety he’d felt about his own body started to ease.
Three months later
The second plan was less impressive. It made a terrible video. It was also still going three months later.
Leo had missed the gym a handful of times and done the minimum version instead. He’d slipped on his rule twice, both times during exam weeks, and both times he’d gone back to his plan the next day instead of declaring the whole thing a failure.
In November, feeling steady, he added a fourth item: read ten pages before bed. In January, he added journaling, just three lines a night.
What he’d tell his September self
At the end of his first year, a friend asked Leo how he’d become so consistent.
“I stopped trying to be perfect,” he said. “My first plan was built for the best version of me on his best day. My second plan was built for a tired guy on a Tuesday. Turns out that’s who shows up most of the time.”
He still watches self-improvement videos sometimes. But now, when someone says you have to do everything at once or not at all, he scrolls past.
Fictional illustrative story. Leo is not a real person. This story was written by the NoFap Legends editorial team to illustrate common experiences and lessons. It is not a testimonial and does not show that any approach works for everyone.
Lessons from this story
- Extreme plans often fail because they leave no room for being human.
- Starting small and building up is more sustainable than starting at maximum.
- Rules built on fear can create anxiety; accurate information can ease it.
Reflect on your own journey
- Is your current plan built for your best day or your average day?
- Which of your rules come from your values, and which come from fear?
- What would a kinder version of your plan look like?