How cult of self-discipline spiralled out of control

From the rise of complex morning regimes to taxing exercise challenges, self-discipline is now the latest status symbol. Katie Rosseinsky on a worrying strain of individualism

- Katie Rosseinsky

Rise at 5am. Peel off the tape you've placed over your mouth to optimise the way you breathe when you're dreaming. Immerse yourself in ice-cold water - it's teeth-grittingly unpleasant, but someone on the internet with a convincing manner told you it would supercharge your focus for the rest of the day. Once you're out, it’s time to cue up a podcast, in which the earnest presenter bombards you with more advice on how to make tomorrow’s morning routine more punishing, and therefore more powerful. You're freezing, you’re exhausted, but you’re also basking in the knowledge that you are more disciplined, more rigorous, than the rest of the world that hasn’t even pressed snooze yet.

When did self-discipline become the ultimate humblebrag? The impulse to knuckle down, engage our will power and hope that it makes us better people has permeated everything from our morning routines to our social media feeds to our weekend plans. Overindulgence, it seems, is out; an Instagram-friendly form of asceticism is in (some people are calling it “monk mode”, thanks to its similarities with the pared-back, isolated lifestyle adopted by monastic types).

If you’ve ever spent a few seconds hovering over some kind of exercise or wellness-related posts on social media, you’re probably now being bombarded with motivational videos encouraging you to block out distractions, cut out anything fun and focus your energies on becoming a fully optimised version of you. “Disappear and come back unrecognisable” is a common refrain in these posts, as if wiping out any foible, weakness or idiosyncrasy that made you, well, you, is the ultimate goal.