Doing Something Because You “Should” is Exactly Why You Won’t

M​y husband is desperate for me to remember to turn the lights off around our house. At night, I often forget to turn the porch light off after I let the dogs out, and in the morning, our closet light is my nemesis. I’m totally on board with conserving energy. I honestly want to remember, and I am irrationally thrilled when I do.

And at the same time, something about the way my husband nags me to turn the lights off creates a weird, adolescent rebellion in me. I hear myself thinking, even though I don’t really believe it, that because our electricity is solar, conservation doesn’t really matter. I know this isn’t true, but his constant reminders make me feel like he’s more frustrated that he can’t control me than he is that I’m leaving the lights on.

The underlying eddy between us around my bad habit of leaving lights on doesn’t motivate me to find ways to remember to turn them off.

This is because motivation doesn’t work the way we think it does.

Motivation is not a tank you fill up. It’s not a resource you either have or don’t, something you’re born with more or less of, or something that runs out on a bad day but that can be topped off with the right playlist. Motivation—the attention we give and the energy we have for the things we want and need to do—magically appears when three core psychological needs are met, and vanishes the moment one of them isn’t.

Those three needs are what psychologists call autonomy, competence, and relatedness.

Autonomy is our need to feel a sense of volition and ownership over our own actions, to experience our behavior as self-chosen and self-endorsed rather than imposed by external or internal pressure.

Competence is our need to feel effective and capable; it’s experienced when we see our skills grow. When we feel like we’re always failing (even if it’s just to remember something), our competence is thwarted.

Relatedness is our need to feel connected to others, to care about them and feel cared for in return, and to experience a genuine sense of belonging.

Three decades of research show that these needs determine whether we keep going or give up.

Steamroll our autonomy with nagging, and motivation collapses. Undercut our competence with criticism, and it curdles into resentment. Cut off our relatedness with isolation, and it quietly disappears. None of it has anything to do with how much we also wanted the outcome in the first place.

And these same three needs govern how we motivate ourselves, not just how we seek to motivate others.

Think about it: Does it work when you bribe or put pressure on yourself? Did you follow through on your intention to go to the gym five days a week because you promised yourself a cute new pair of shoes? Did self-criticism for not doing it yesterday help you get out of bed at six this morning to do it? How about when you isolate yourself until you do the thing you feel like you should do, avoiding the “distractions” of friends and loved ones?

Most of us, when we fail to do the thing we think we “should” do, blame our mediocre willpower or busy schedule. But what actually happened is that one or more of our core psychological needs went unmet or were thwarted.

We violate our need for autonomy constantly, usually without noticing. We demotivate ourselves when we tell ourselves we “should” or “have to” do something. Humans resist being bossed around, even by our own inner voice, and even when we genuinely care about doing the thing itself. People who feel coerced typically don’t follow through over the long run until the motivation becomes their own. Real, lasting change only happens when we feel we’re choosing it for ourselves.

You will only do the thing if you don’t feel like you have to, if you feel like the consequences won’t be dire if you don’t do it. You’ll only do it if you want to do it, of your own volition. So stop asking yourself what you should do, and ask yourself: What do you want?

In addition, you’ll only do it if you feel like you can do it effectively and capably. So ask yourself: Is the challenge you’re giving yourself realistic? Does it stretch you enough to be engaging while still giving you a clear shot at success? What clear, near-term feedback can you give yourself that you are improving?

And finally, ask yourself: Who can help me feel like I’m not doing this alone? Relatedness is a requirement, and it also makes the other two needs easier to meet. When you feel supported, you don’t have to white-knuckle a new habit alone, which protects your autonomy. And when someone notices your effort and reflects your progress back to you, you get the clear feedback that satisfies your need for competence. Relatedness isn’t the cherry on top of autonomy and competence. It’s the foundation that holds them up.

Which brings me back to my husband and the lights.

What he wants is simple: for me to turn off the damn lights. But when he nags, it steamrolls my autonomy and undercuts my competence at the same time. It tells me I have to do this, and that I’m constantly failing at it.

What helps me more is when he finds ways to be on my team, to be with me in it instead of over me. Saying “I noticed you got the porch light three nights in a row—thank you!” does more for my motivation than a hundred reminders, not just because it’s nicer, but because it satisfies my need for relatedness while quietly restoring the autonomy and competence nagging destroys.

This is true for whoever you’re trying to help, whether it’s a partner, a kid, a friend, or a parent. You can’t manufacture motivation in someone else. But you can make it easier for them to feel like they’re not doing the hard thing by themselves, and that, it turns out, is one of the most powerful things you can offer someone.