Is Your ‘Effort’ Just a Ritual of Escape?

I sat at my window last Tuesday night—rain tapping like forgotten promises—when it hit me: I’d been playing effort all week.

Not working. Not growing. Just performing.

The screen glowed with open tabs, unread messages, unfinished drafts. My heart raced not from purpose—but from fear of being seen as idle.

That’s when I remembered: we don’t always work to achieve. Sometimes we work to avoid feeling.

The Myth of the Hustle Temple

We’re told success is earned through relentless motion. But what if our routines are just rituals? Like ancient offerings to a god we no longer believe in?

In my journal—a habit born from burnout—I wrote:

“I didn’t win today. But I didn’t stop either.”

That line haunted me.

It wasn’t victory. It was survival disguised as progress.

When Games Become Mirrors

The game called “斗鸡” promised epic stakes—mythological themes, lightning-fast bets, glowing rewards. On paper, it looked like adrenaline-fueled fun. But beneath the gold-trimmed interface? A familiar trap: the illusion of control.

You choose your fighter, say your prayer, drop your coin… then wait for fate to decide.

Sound familiar? Like applying for jobs, taking online courses, messaging ‘I’m fine’ when you’re not— every action feels meaningful… until it doesn’t.

The Psychology Behind the Scroll Loop

Research shows we crave activity even when it lacks outcome (APA citation: Baumeister et al., 1998). Why? Because inaction triggers anxiety—a primal signal that we’re failing at survival. So we fill silence with noise: notifications, tasks, decisions—even games with no real stakes.

This isn’t laziness. it’s trauma response dressed as discipline. The body says: Move or die. The mind replies: But what if moving doesn’t matter? And so we keep going—not toward goals—but away from emptiness.

Reclaiming Stillness as Resistance

Last month, I quit three apps that tracked my ‘productivity.’ No more daily streaks. No more checklists where every box felt hollow. Instead, I started sitting in silence for ten minutes each morning—just breathing and noticing: a bird outside, a crack in the wall, a thought passing like smoke. It felt useless at first… then sacred. Because stillness isn’t failure—it’s clarity under pressure.

When you stop performing effort,*you begin to see what was hidden: your true rhythm,*your real needs,your unspoken grief.

You aren’t broken because you rest.
You’re human because you need to.

## What If Winning Was Never the Point?

In “斗鸡,” they promise rewards.
But here’s what they don’t say:
Some victories are just illusions built on momentum.

The real prize?
Catching yourself mid-scroll,
pausing before clicking,
asking:*“What am I trying to escape right now?”

This isn’t about quitting.It’s about asking:Am I chasing meaning—or just avoiding feeling empty?

If this resonates…Please comment below:“Write down one time this week when you worked hard but still felt empty.”

No judgment.We’re building a quiet archive—not of achievements—but of honest moments.You’re not alone.r