Nothing Is Promised

Ivan Ryabokon

 Work collapses 

not because it is difficult, 

but because it refuses to 

reward us on schedule, and 

most people were never prepared 

to give without being paid.

People rarely give up on work because it fails.

They give up when it doesn’t pay off right away. When effort doesn’t quickly lead to progress, recognition, or relief, excuses appear. We blame circumstances, use timing as an excuse, and call the world unfair.

But under every excuse is a simpler truth: the work was never done freely.

It always came with an expectation of reward.

Expectation quietly undermines most efforts. It often looks like motivation, ambition, or planning, but it’s really a deal we try to make with reality: I’ll give my time and effort if I get progress, recognition, or relief in return.

When reality doesn’t deliver, our effort falls apart.

Instead of reflecting, we feel resentful. The work feels unfriendly, resistance feels personal, and difficulty seems like a sign we’re on the wrong path.

That’s why most people quit.

It’s not a lack of talent that makes people stop. They just can’t stand working without immediate results or feedback. They struggle to keep going when their effort doesn’t pay off right away.

So, people start to think goals are the problem. They say goals cause pressure, disappointment, and burnout. They decide to work without goals, telling themselves they’ll create freely and explore without direction. This sounds good, even wise, but it’s not the whole story.

Getting rid of goals doesn’t make you stronger. It just takes away structure.

Working without expectations  

isn’t the same as working without demands. 

The world will still expect things from you. Time still passes, your body still gets tired, money still matters, and people will still interrupt or doubt you. Changing your mindset doesn’t make these things go away. It just shows whether you can handle them.

Many people mistake enjoyment for strength. They believe that if work entertains the soul, it will sustain itself. This is a comforting illusion. Enjoyment is a side effect, not a foundation. It appears when energy is abundant and disappears the moment resistance sharpens. 

The work that survives only when it feels good 

was never rooted deeply enough to survive reality.

Your soul isn’t something that needs constant entertainment. It either grows or weakens, depending on what you do.

Meaningful work asks for courage before it gives you pleasure. 

It asks for sacrifice before it gives you meaning. 

It asks for persistence before things become clear. 

Anyone who says otherwise isn’t being honest.

The world is not designed to accommodate your inner life. It is designed to test it.

Every serious effort runs into the same wall. Fatigue. Doubt. Isolation. The sense that you are giving more than you are receiving. This is the moment when people begin negotiating with themselves. They soften their standards. They delay. They distract. They rationalize retreat as wisdom. They say they are choosing balance, self-care, or alignment. In reality, they are choosing relief.

Relief is the enemy of becoming.

1. If you only work when conditions are favorable, you are not disciplined. You are compliant. 
2. If you only continue when progress is visible, you are not committed. You are dependent. 
3. If you only persist when the work feels meaningful, you are not strong. You are entertained.

Creation does not ask whether you feel ready. It asks whether you are willing to be strained.

There is a popular fantasy that meaningful work flows naturally from passion. 

That once you find the right thing, effort becomes light. 

This fantasy has destroyed more potential than failure ever could. 

It teaches people to abandon work the moment it becomes heavy. It trains them to interpret resistance as a sign to stop rather than a signal to deepen.

Resistance is not an error in the process. It is the process.

The individual who continues despite resistance does not do so because they are optimistic. 

They do so because stopping would be a form of self-betrayal. 

Their work is not a hobby. It is not therapy. It is not an expression of personality. 

It is a battlefield on which they test their capacity to endure.

This is where most readers grow uncomfortable. Because this way of working offers no consolation. It does not promise happiness. It does not guarantee success. It does not care about your mental narratives. It demands that you stand upright under pressure without applause.

The modern obsession with purpose misses this entirely. 

People want a reason that makes suffering acceptable. 

They want meaning to justify endurance. 

But meaning is not a prerequisite for work. 

Meaning is something that appears afterward, if at all. 

Those who wait for it in advance rarely begin.

You do not need a reason to work. You need a spine.

The work that shapes you will not align neatly with your preferences.

• It will offend parts of you.

• It will expose weaknesses you would rather keep hidden.

• It will force you to confront limits you hoped were temporary.

If your philosophy cannot survive this confrontation, it was decorative, not structural.

There is no safe version of devotion.

To continue working when the world demands something from you is not a matter of necessity. You can always quit. You can always choose something easier. Most people do. 

What distinguishes the few who persist is not obligation but affirmation.

They choose the burden and then refuse to complain about its weight.

They do not ask whether the sacrifice is worth it. 

They have already decided that not sacrificing would be worse.

This is where self-deception ends. 

You discover whether your work was an escape or a commitment. 

Whether it existed to soothe you or to transform you. 

Whether you were seeking comfort disguised as creativity or discipline disguised as freedom.

There is no purity in avoiding struggle. There is only stagnation.

Those who endure do not do so because they believe the world will reward them. They do not believe effort guarantees outcomes. They do not cling to hope as fuel. Hope is unreliable. It fluctuates. It depends on circumstances. Discipline does not.

What carries them forward is something colder and stronger. 

A refusal to shrink. 

A refusal to abandon what demands growth. 

A refusal to lie to themselves about the cost of becoming something more than they are.

This kind of work is not romantic. It does not produce inspirational quotes. It does not feel like self-expression. It feels like pressure applied over time. It feels like returning to the same task after the excitement has died and before any reward has arrived. It feels like solitude.

Most people are not prepared for solitude. 

They crave feedback. They want reassurance. 

They want signs. 

But solitude is where strength consolidates. 

Without witnesses. Without validation. 

Without the comfort of being understood.

If your work cannot survive neglect, it cannot survive reality.

The world does not owe your work attention. It does not owe its success. It does not owe it fairness. Waiting for these things is another form of expectation. 

And expectation, as always, corrodes effort.

The strongest individuals do not ask whether the world supports them. 

They ask whether they can continue regardless of the world.

This is not about grit as a personality trait. It is about orientation. About whether you measure your life by ease or by expansion. About whether you want to be comfortable or formidable.

Pleasure will come and go. 

Motivation will fade. 

Clarity will dissolve. 

What remains is the question you cannot avoid.

Can you endure the consequences of choosing what demands the most from you?

If the answer is no, then stop pretending you were ever serious. Choose something lighter. There is no shame in it. But do not dress retreat as enlightenment.

If the answer is yes, then understand what you are accepting. 

You are accepting friction. You are accepting sacrifice. You are accepting that the work will cost you more than it gives for long stretches of time. You are accepting that no philosophy will save you from fatigue.

And you are accepting this without guarantees.

This is the point where shallow interpretations collapse. Where slogans about flow, balance, and joy fail. Where only strength remains.

Work is not a means to happiness. 

It is a means of self-confrontation.

Through it, you discover what breaks you and what does not. 

Through it, you learn whether your values are aesthetic or embodied. 

Through it, you either harden or hollow.

The question is not whether the work will succeed. 

The question is whether you will survive it without diminishing yourself.

Those who do are changed. Not made gentler. Made sharper. Less dependent on outcomes. Less impressed by comfort. Less eager for approval. 

They move differently. They work differently. They stop asking for permission from the world.

They do not need goals to threaten them into action. They do not need pleasure to seduce them into continuation. They do not need meaning to console them.

They work because this is how they remain intact.

Everything else is noise.

And most people will hate this. Because it offers no shortcuts. Because it exposes how much of their thinking is designed to protect them from effort. Because it refuses to reassure them that they are fine as they are.

That is precisely why it matters.

If something in you resists this, pay attention. 

Resistance is honest. It tells you exactly where the work begins.

in, Nietzsche Wisdoms