In sociology, the “Broken Windows” theory suggests that small signs of deterioration, like a broken window in an abandoned building, can eventually lead to significant social deterioration. An illustration of this hypothesis is found in several studies proposing how the accumulation of trash in the streets statistically correlates with rising crime rates (article).
On a personal note, I find a clear analogy to this phenomenon: every time one fails to commit to themselves, this sets a precedent that acts as a broken window in their system of discipline. If one allows these cracks to remain, these fails become entry points for disorder in other areas of life.
As of my experience, everyday actions can have a disproportionate impact on achieving larger goals. Something as simple as making my bed at the start of the day, or dressing well not only organizes my environment but also my mind. Of course, there are habits of greater importance, such as doing high-intensity sports regularly, eating healthily, going to bed at time, or doing deep-work on a daily basis.
Breaking one of these habits might be taken as non-significant in the moment, but that small crack can slowly erode the strength of our character in the long-term. And the problem with erosion is that it is asymmetrically one-directional: it’s always easier to break something that works than to build it from scratch when there is nothing working.
Why to expose to hard things? Beyond the significant impact of those actions on our lives, the reason is rather simple: every time we confront something that takes effort, we gain control over our mind, we strengthen our character. These actions are not (just) an end in themselves; they are training for mental resilience.
It’s a virtuous cycle: the more consistent we are in doing challenging things, the easier it becomes to stay in a state of excellence. Each challenge overcome reinforces our sense of accomplishment, driving positive momentum that elevates us to a higher state of consciousness. That momentum—a chain of small personal victories—is what enables us to operate at our best.
Avoid that place where aspirations fade, where we settle for what is easy and comfortable at the moment, because it’s the same place where dissatisfaction and unhappiness takes root. The worst place is not necessarily a visible disaster; it might be a very suboptimal local maximum, a silent underexploitation of our potential.
That’s why every action reinforces a narrative: either you act with self-respect and intention, or you give in to weakness. Take always the pain upfront, and be prepared in advance so that when you face that moment of weakness, you’ll remember: don’t break your windows.